تنیشا @mutton-biriyani - Tumblr Blog

Apr 4

So yeah i think we all went collectively insane over this and here is my thesis

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), semi public sex, fingering, cum eating, making out (a lot), dom!nicho, sub!reader, forced proximity, dagger and blood ehehehe, reader's lowkey put in her place but it's nicho so whatever, pirate!nicholas, princess!reader, I wrote this in one day very rushed please don't mind

Word count: 5.3k (did that in one fucking day I am powerful)

“Now what’s our little princess doing in a place like this, hmm?

The sea had always felt like freedom.

That was why you came back to it—again and again—despite the risk, despite the guards, despite everything your title demanded of you.

Tonight, it was colder than usual, the salt-kissed wind tangling your hair, a wild, rebellious contrast to your usually neat hairstyle. You were a shadow against the rough stone of the harbor wall, the rhythmic crash of the waves against the pilings drowning out the frantic beat of your heart. For a few stolen moments, you were not a princess in a gilded cage, but a girl by the sea, revelling in freedom.

The voice that slithered out of the darkness behind you was like oil over water—smooth, familiar, and utterly unwelcome. Your fingers curled into the cold stone. You didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

Of course, the universe just had to send him forth on the one day you had grabbed your temporary freedom.

Nicholas.

The most infuriating, notorious pirate to ever plague your father’s navy, with hair as black as the tar on his ship’s hull and a grin that promised delightful trouble. He knew the palace protocols, the guards’ rotations, and, most annoyingly, he seemed to know you.

You didn’t turn immediately, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But you could already see him in your mind, those sharp, cocky eyes and that infuriating ease he carried like the world had never told him no.

The wind clawed at your dress, dragging strands of your hair loose as the tide roared in restless, endless motion. When you finally faced him, he was exactly as you remembered—and worse.

Nicholas stood with the sea at his back, like it belonged to him. His coat shifted in the wind, his silhouette cut sharp against the moonlight. There was something wild about him, something untamed, and you hated that your first thought wasn’t ‘dangerous pirate’. It was beautiful.

You crushed the thought before it could take shape properly. He leaned against a mooring post, arms crossed, that knowing smirk firmly in place. Cocky, handsome bastard.

“Getting away from nuisances.” You answered him, still looking around for the guards, “It seems I’ve just run into one.” You adjusted the strap of your nightgown below your robe, a poor choice to run out in but you didn't have much time to change.

“Oh?” Nicholas said, tilting his head, studying you in a way that made your skin feel too tight, “Is our princess finally growing up? She sure does run her tongue that way.” He always looked at you like he was peeling you back layer by layer. Your jaw clenched as you glared at him, nevertheless holding your head up high.

“You are trespassing.” You said coldly.

“Pretty sure this is my territory, darling.”

“I doubt pirates own coastlines.”

“We take what we want.” His fiery gaze didn’t leave your face. “You should know that by now, shouldn't you?” You swallowed your irritation……and something else you refused to name.

“Then take your leave,” you snapped at him, tugging your robe closer at the sudden movement of cold air.

“You know…” Nicholas drawled in that deep, lazy voice, stepping closer, “You’re doing a poor job of escaping, Your Highness. The watch will spot you before the hour’s out with that ridiculous thing in your hair.”

Your hand flew up instinctively, fingers brushing the ornamental clip in your hair—a delicate golden piece of art. Stupid.

You yanked it free without another thought and threw it at him. Nicholas caught it easily, of course he did, turning it over between his fingers, the faint glint of moonlight catching on the metal as he examined it with quiet amusement.

“Expensive…” He murmured, eyes flicking up to you as he bit his lip, “You sure you want to give it to a dirty pirate like me?”

“It’s useless.” You shot back, “And I’ll do anything to stay hidden so you can have it.” Your voice was defiant as if you were daring him to challenge it.

But he didn't, merely looking over the ornament with a raised brow. Handsome bastard.

Nicholas was all sharp angles and coiled strength, but it was the details that undid you. The way his hair, the deep, rich hue of a raven’s wing, fell carelessly across his brow, the faint, pale scar that bisected one eyebrow, a story you’d never ask for, the stubborn set of his jaw, now dusted with the shadow of a day at sea.

Your pulse betrayed you, quickening despite every ounce of your will.

“You shouldn't be here alone.” Nicholas said suddenly, “It’s not safe for pretty princesses like you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.” You said, still glancing over your shoulder for any sign of guards.

“I don’t doubt that, darling.” His eyes flicked for a second to the hidden edge of your sleeve, where your dagger rested. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

“I don’t need your concern, pirate.” You snapped again, the wind curling between you, carrying salt and tension in equal measure, “And I told you, I’d do anything for this.”

There was a brief pause. Nicholas’s gaze dropped briefly to the way your robe slipped just slightly at your shoulder before you pulled it tighter again. Then back to your eyes. He smiled, like a cunning fox in a fable.

“Anything?” He repeated, softer this time, like he was testing the edges of the word.

“Did you not hear me?” You scoffed, “Yes, anything.” Another pause and he ran a sharp tongue over his lips which for some reason made your knees go weak.

“Careful what you offer, princess.” He purred. Before you could respond, he slipped the ornament into his pocket. “You’ll want that back,” he said lightly.

“Then give it back.” You said simply.

“Mmmm...” He tilted his head, considering you like a puzzle he hadn’t quite decided how to solve. “No.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Think of it as insurance, princess.”

“For what?”

“For your…..anything.”

The word lingered between you dangerously. You stepped closer, anger flaring fast enough to almost drown out everything else. “You don’t get to bargain with me.”

“I already am, Your Highness.” Your hand twitched, like you might reach for your dagger again—but you stopped yourself. Nicholas leaned in, his voice dropping just enough that it felt like it belonged to the space between you, not the world around it.

“You’re out here alone, poorly disguised, being hunted.” A beat. “And now you’ve handed me something valuable.” His gaze locked onto yours and you almost gasped. Those beautiful eyes, dark as a moonless night.

“Tell me, Your Highness……what exactly do you think your position is here?”

The answer sat on your tongue, and those eyes kept pulling you in like a whirlpool in the middle of the sea. There was a story in those eyes and you were going to fish it out. You stepped even closer instead, refusing to give him an inch of ground.

“My position,” you said quietly, “is that you haven’t turned me in.”

“And why do you think that is?” Nicholas asked.

“Because,” you said, your voice steady despite the way your pulse betrayed you, “you want something.” A pause, and then another cocky smile.

“Now that,” Nicholas murmured, “sounds like a negotiation.” The distant echo of voices cut through the moment, closer this time, probably the changing of the night guards. Your head turned, tension snapping tight again. Nicholas didn’t look away from you.

“Looks like your time’s running out, princess.” he said softly.

Your gaze flicked back to his. “Then stop wasting it.”

Nicholas stepped back, just enough space to breathe, looking you up and down again. You tugged your robe closer, pulling your hood over your head.

“I know a place. A ledge just around the headland.” He said, extending a hand, “You can see the whole bay, the waves crashing against the cliffs… nothing between you and the horizon. It’s a better view than whatever this is.”

It was safe to say you were the most fucked person in the world.

Nicholas’s hand held your gaze. Broad, with long, dexterous fingers that looked capable of many, many things. Perhaps tying a complex knot or tracing skin.

His skin was tanned a deep gold, weathered by sun and salt, and across the knuckles were the faint, silvery whispers of old scars—a testament to fights you could only imagine. And on those fingers, he wore his rebellion.

Silver rings, heavy and ornate, adorned both hands. One, on his right index finger, was a thick band carved into the likeness of a coiled sea serpent, its tiny emerald eye catching the faint light. Another, on his left thumb, was a simpler, rougher thing of blackened iron.

Beautiful, beautiful man.

“Lead the way.” You slowly took his hand, hating the sudden, traitorous leap of curiosity in your chest, “And no tricks, pirate.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Nicholas said, teeth flashing as he grinned at you. Your hands were utterly soft, like cream pudding in his. The scent of you as well—roses and a little bit of brattish rebellion. How very intriguing.

In Nicholas’s opinion you were exactly what the world had made you: a spoilt, pretty princess, wrapped in silks. And yet there was something else, something that didn’t belong, like a rose growing where it shouldn’t. Untouched and pure—for now.

Nicholas led you through a maze of narrow, damp alleys, away from the main wharf. You were so focused on keeping up with his swift, silent steps and absorbing the thrilling sights that you didn’t hear the approaching bootfalls until they were nearly upon you.

A gruff voice echoed from the next alley over. “...check the west wall. Captain said he saw something.”

Your blood turned to ice at the voices of the royal guards and Nicholas’s grip on your hand tightened.

“They’re looking for you.” Nicholas murmured, his expression shifting instantly, the careless amusement gone.

“I know that,” you hissed.

“Then stop arguing and be a good princess so we can both live.”

He caught your wrist roughly before you could pull away, dragging you toward a darker stretch of rocks. You should have resisted, should have fought him. But who were you to do that? A law abiding princess?

The path narrowed, shadows swallowing you whole as the cliffs rose higher. The sea grew louder, crashing harder, like it was trying to drown out your thoughts. You heard the voices again, closer this time.

“Nicholas wait—”

In one fluid motion, Nicholas hooked an arm around your waist and spun you both into a narrow gap between the stone walls. The space was tight, barely enough for one person. He pressed you back against the rough stone, his body a solid, unyielding barrier between you and the world.

Your back hit the cold rock, breath catching as he stepped in front of you—too close, entirely too close.

There was nowhere else to go. The space forced you together. His arm braced against the wall beside your head, caging you in without quite touching you. You could feel the heat of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

Those beautiful eyes, and that musky scent. Your eyes lingered over the way his muscles pressed against his faded white shirt, the red cloth wrapped round his arm threatening to tear at any moment.

Your heart refused to slow and heat flooded to your inner thighs.

“Relax, darling.” Nicholas murmured, his voice a low growl.

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re gripping my sleeve like you’re about to fall off a cliff.”

You let go immediately, glaring at him. “I am not.” His eyes flickered down to your lips for a second, and then up.

“You’re so spoiled, princess…”

“Excuse me? I-”

“Shh.” He shushed you quickly as the footsteps grew louder and closer. One of the guards paused—just beyond the rocks. Your breath hitched.

Nicholas shifted, subtly, placing himself fully between you and the opening. His body blocked the view completely, shadow swallowing you both.

And for a moment, everything stilled. You could hear the guards, the sea, your own pulse.

And his pulse.

And the way his pink lips parted slightly, breaths coming steady. The way the moonlight caught the edge of his face, his sharp jaw. Or how his expression softened just barely as he looked down at you, like he was seeing something he hadn't expected.

You shouldn’t have noticed the fact that Nicholas was standing so damn close.

You tore your gaze away from him, hearing the footsteps move ever closer. The silence was heavy and suffocating, your hands resting on this chest. You exhaled slowly, cocking a brow up and the hesitant, almost apologetic expression on his face.

“What is it?” You whispered, fighting to keep your eyes on his, a battle you were losing. Nicholas bit his lower lip and chuckled softly, the sound a low vibration you felt through your fingertips.

“I think we both need to save our lives right now.” He murmured, “Don’t hate me for what I’m about to do princess.”

Before you could utter a protest, or a threat, or anything at all, his head dipped and his lips captured yours.

It was a performance, a desperate, convincing lie, deceptively tender to any observer. The shock of it stole your breath as his mouth moved over yours with a practiced heat that made your knees weak.

Nicholas tasted like salt and something unexpectedly sweet—honey or spiced rum—like a sea breeze carrying the scent of a far-off land. You could hear the guard’s footsteps slow just outside your shadowy alcove, the shuffle of boots pausing.

And the performance faltered.

Or perhaps it transformed. The initial pressure softened and his hand, the one with the heavy sea-serpent ring, came up to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb stroking the frantic pulse there. Your hands, still flat against his chest, curled inward, clutching the rough fabric of his shirt. A tiny, traitorous sound escaped you, swallowed by his kiss.

The footsteps didn’t move on. You were distantly aware of a presence lingering, but the awareness was a distant thing, drowned out by the roaring in your ears, the feel of his lips slanting perfectly over yours, the way his other arm banded around your waist, pulling you flush against him until not even a sliver of moonlight could slip between you.

A low, derisive scoff cut through the haze, a coarse, masculine sound of dismissal. The sound of a guard seeing a dockside dalliance and thinking nothing of it.

Nicholas broke the kiss with a slow pull, leaving you breathless and unmoored. He didn’t look at you. Instead, he turned his head just slightly over his shoulder, his voice dripping with lazy, post-amorous annoyance. “You need something, mate? A little privacy is a terrible thing to waste.”

You peeked around the solid barrier of his shoulder. The guardsman, a grizzled veteran with a bushy mustache, was shaking his head, a wry, almost envious smirk on his face. He’d seen a sailor stealing a moment with a willing tavern girl, nothing more.

“No,” the guard grunted, his voice gruff. “Carry on.” With another dismissive shake of his head, he turned and trudged away, his footsteps fading into the night.

Silence descended again, thicker now, charged with something far more dangerous than the threat of discovery. Nicholas turned his head back to you, his dark eyes searching yours in the dim light. His lips were slightly swollen, and your own felt achingly sensitive. A performance was over, and it had served its purpose.

Too damn close.

Your hand flew to your dagger, the cool hilt a comfort. In a flash of moonlight, you pressed the sharp point firmly against the column of his throat, right above the pulse that hammered against your blade.

“Do that again,” you hissed, the words trembling with rage, “and I’ll open you from ear to ear. I am not one of your tavern wenches to be mauled in an alley.”

Nicholas didn’t flinch, he didn’t even pull back. His eyes, dark as the deep rumbling sea, held yours, a slow, dangerous smile touching his kiss-swollen lips. Both his hands came to rest on the wall on either side of your head, as if showing you he held all the power to cage you in, yet he chose not to use it.

And when he leaned forward, it was like watching a melodic symphony being composed.

The razor edge bit into his skin, a sharp, clean line of crimson welling up, a single, dark bead of blood tracing a path down his beautiful neck. He let out a soft, shuddering breath that was almost a sigh. The pain seemed to exhilarate him. He was offering his throat to your steel with the same casual grace with which he’d probably offer a glass of rum.

“I wouldn’t mind that, princess.” Nicholas whispered, his voice a rough caress, “Go on, open me up.”

The world narrowed to the point of your blade and the unyielding warmth of his throat beneath it. His words were a challenge, a seduction, a madness.

Go on, open me up.

The dagger trembled in your grip; the single bead of blood, black in the moonlight, traced a slow path over the taut line of his tendon, disappearing into the collar of his shirt, like a flag of surrender. And he was still smiling. That damnable, beautiful, reckless smile.

“You’re insane,” you breathed out, the rage in your voice fracturing, bewildered fascination beneath.

“Frequently." he agreed, his voice low and intimate. His hands remained on the wall, fingers flexing slightly against the stone. “But you’re the one holding the knife, sweetheart. The power is all yours. Do you feel powerful, Your Highness?”

The cruelest trick of all.

You felt utterly, completely at his mercy. The weapon was yours, the threat was yours, yet he had disarmed you with nothing but a lean into the blade and a whispered dare.

Your gaze dropped from his mocking eyes to his mouth, still flushed from the kiss, then back to the thin red line you’d drawn, a strange, possessive thrill shooting through you.

You had marked the untamable. You had drawn blood from the pirate who slipped through your father’s nets like a ghost.

The dagger fell from your nerveless fingers, thudding dully on the damp ground. You didn’t know who moved first. Perhaps you both did, drawn together by a force stronger than pride or disdain.

Your hand, the one that had held the blade, came up instead to the side of his neck. Your thumb, trembling, smeared through the trail of blood, painting a faint, warm streak across his skin. The act was shockingly intimate, more so than the kiss had been.

His breath caught, the playful mockery vanishing from his eyes, replaced by a dark, consuming heat. That was all the invitation you needed. Your second kiss was nothing like the first.

Salt, copper and honey, a storm of sensation.

It was your fingers tangling in the ink-black silk of his hair, pulling him closer. It was his hands finally leaving the wall to haul you against him, one splayed possessively against the small of your back, the other cupping the nape of your neck.

These were the hands of a pirate, a thief, a villain……and in that moment, as they held you with a possession that felt more like worship, you thought they were the most devastatingly, infuriatingly beautiful things you had ever seen.

It was a kiss that felt like drowning and coming up for air all at once, a desperate, passionate battle where neither of you wanted to win, only to get lost. He met you with a hunger that matched your own, a low groan vibrating from his chest into yours.

The sea roared its approval against the cliffs, a secret witness to this strange pair—a pirate and a princess, not even a lovesick poet could have conjured such a couplet.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Nicholas hummed, pulling back, “Tell me darling…..” His hand came to tilt your head up by the chin, “Do you feel powerful?”

“Should I?” You whispered, the word escaping your lips like a reluctant confession, “Because I do not.”

“Would you like to feel powerful then?” Nicholas said, “Would you let me show you?” He shifted slightly, his body heat radiating against you, the salty tang of the sea mingling with the metallic scent of blood.

Your breath caught, the emotions in your chest twisting into something hotter and insistent. The danger of him, of this moment, pulled at you like the tide.

"Yes." you said, the admission sharp and defiant, a pearl in dark water.

In an instant, his hands were on you—strong fingers gripping your hips. Nicholas devoured your lips, tongue thrusting deep, claiming every gasp you made. One hand slid up your thigh, bunching the fabric of your nightgown, exposing your skin to the cool night air.

“Hmmm, so sweet…” He hummed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to nip at your jaw, your neck, “Never thought a pretty princess would taste so good, darling.”

His fingers found the heat between your legs, brushing over the damp fabric of your undergarments before shoving them aside. You arched into him, a soft moan slipping out as he pressed two fingers against your slick folds, parting them with an intentional slowness.

Nicholas circled your clit first, teasing the swollen nub until your thighs quivered, then slid lower, pushing one finger inside you. Your pussy clenched around the intrusion, wet and eager, and he groaned, the sound raw and almost desperate.

"Oh she’s taking it soooo well.” He murmured, adding a second finger, stretching you as he began to pump them in and out, “So ready for me, darling. What sort of things are they teaching you up there in that palace hmm?” His thumb rubbed firm circles over your clit, building the pressure, making your hips buck against his hand, "Or did you learn this one on your own? Our rebellious princess."

The stone scraped your back, but you didn't care—pleasure coiling tight in your core, his fingers curling inside you to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Nicholas fucked you with his hand, relentless, his free arm pinning you in place. Blood from his neck smeared against your skin, a reminder of the faux power you held, even as he drove you toward the edge.

His fingers plunged deeper into your pussy, twisting and thrusting with a rhythm that had your walls fluttering around him, slick juices coating his hand as you grinded against his palm. This was the thing of forbidden archives, texts you had read and tried on yourself. Now you understood why those texts were written like sweet, ambrosia drunk poetry.

The pressure built relentlessly, your clit throbbing under his thumb's insistent strokes, but just as the orgasm teetered on the brink, he withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving you gasping, empty and aching.

“Not yet, darling.” Nicholas rasped, his voice thick with lust, eyes gleaming with that predatory hunger, “One thing about a pirate—” His hand undid the ties of your robe, yanking it away to leave you in your sheer nightgown, “—we love to plunder.”

The night air whispered against the material, your nipples peaking visibly through the translucent silk, the outline of your curves stark and inviting. Nicholas's dark gaze raked over you, his breath coming in heavy pulls as he drank in the sight. Without another word, he closed the distance, his mouth crashing onto your collarbone with a hunger that bordered on worship.

His mouth descended on your collarbone, lips hot and demanding as he kissed along the ridge, sucking lightly at the sensitive hollow where neck meets shoulder. You tilted your head back against the rough stone, a soft exhale escaping despite your efforts to remain silent—the distant lap of waves against the docks the only sound you dared not drown out.

Nicholas's tongue followed the path of his mouth, tracing the delicate line from your shoulder to the base of your throat, lapping at the pulse that hammered there, tasting the salt of your skin mixed with the faint metallic tang from the nick of your dagger.

“So beautiful…..” Nicholas moaned against your skin, “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

Lower still, he worshiped with painful slowness, his hands sliding up your sides to cup the undersides of your breasts through the nightgown. The fabric bunched under his palms as he squeezed, thumbs brushing over your nipples in teasing circles that made them tighten further, sending sparks straight to your core.

He dragged his mouth down the valley between your breasts, nuzzling the thin barrier before capturing one nipple between his teeth. He bit down just enough to sting, then soothed it with a flat swiiipe of his tongue, the wet heat seeping through the material and making it cling even more obscenely.

“Oh!” You arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders for purchase, the world narrowing to the scrape of his stubble against your skin and the way his free hand kneaded your hip, bunching the nightgown higher, “Oh Nicholas—slow down!”

“Slow down?” Nicholas paused his pleasurable assault, “Now now, our brave princess can handle more than that can’t she?”

He lavished the other breast with the same attention—sucking the nipple into his mouth, rolling it against the roof of his mouth while his teeth grazed the sensitive tip. A muffled whine built in your throat, and you swallowed it down, pressing your lips together as his kisses trailed over your ribs, dipping into the soft dip of your navel through the fabric.

Nicholas sank to his knees then, the gravel crunching under him, his hands never leaving your body. He looked like a priest sinking down to worship his god, a god that would never grant him what he wished for. But you were no god, you were an angel, and in Nicholas’s opinion, angels always granted wishes in return for a little something.

Nicholas hooked one leg over his shoulder with ease, your thigh draping across his back as he positioned you wider, the nightgown riding up to expose your bare pussy, still slick and swollen from his earlier teasing. The position left you balanced precariously against the wall, one foot barely touching the ground, your core aching and open to him.

And gods above—his expression stole what little breath you had left. His dark eyes were wide and earnest in the gloom, reflecting shards of moonlight like stars scattered across a midnight ocean.

“You said you wanted to feel powerful, princess.” Nicholas hummed, taking a deep whiff of your sweet scent, “Go on, tell me you want this.” He looked up, those starry eyes, pictures of utter devotion, “Command me to your will.”

He was giving you everything—the illusion of control, the power of speech—while holding all the real power in his steady hands and his greedy fucking mouth. The words felt foreign on your tongue. You were used to orders given from a throne room dais or through clenched teeth in anger. But this?

Oh this was intoxicating.

"I..." Your voice came out as a shaky whisper. You swallowed, forcing strength into it. "I want it." Your fingers tangled in his hair holding on as if he were your only anchor in a storm-tossed sea. “Your liege commands you, pirate.”

A slow, devastating smile spread across his face—the smile of a man who had just struck treasure.

The first touch of his tongue was a lightning strike—a slow, deliberate lick from bottom to top that arched your back off the wall with a choked gasp. His nose nudged your clit, inhaling deeply before his tongue extended to lick a broad stripe up your slit again, from your dripping entrance to the throbbing bundle of nerves.

The contact made your hips jerk, a sharp gasp tearing from your lips—you clapped a hand over your mouth immediately, so as to not frighten any poor soul who happened to stumble onto this lewd scene.

Nicholas lapped at you as if savoring ambrosia, humming low in his chest with pleasure that vibrated through your entire body.

He groaned into you, the vibration humming through your folds as he sealed his lips around your pussy. His tongue thrust inside, spearing deep and curling to stroke your inner walls, fucking you with wet, insistent motions that had your juices flowing freely onto his chin.

He pulled back slightly to suck at your clit, drawing it between his lips and flicking the tip with rapid, precise laps that built the fire anew. Your leg trembled over his shoulder, muscles clenching as pleasure coiled tight in your belly, but you fought the sounds bubbling up, biting into your lip until you tasted the faint copper of blood.

Nicholas didn't relent, his hands gripping your ass to pull you flush against his mouth, tongue delving back in to lap at every inch. The overstimulation made every touch electric, your clit pulsing under the onslaught, walls clenching around nothing as he alternated between deep thrusts and shallow sucks.

Your body betrayed you, hips rolling forward to chase the sensation even as you tried to stay still, quiet—soft, choked whimpers slipping through like secrets you couldn't contain. He was your secret now.

Sensing your building peak, he shifted again, grasping your other thigh and lifting it over his opposite shoulder. Now you hung suspended, both legs locked around Nicholas, pussy fully exposed and grinding against his face with no escape.

The new angle pressed you deeper into his mouth, his tongue battering your clit with unrelenting flicks while two fingers plunged into your soaked hole, scissoring and curling to hit that spot inside that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

Nicholas was worshiping you with his mouth with a fervor that bordered on a violent religion—a devoted sinner at an altar he never expected to reach.

It was too much—the raw sensitivity turning pleasure into a razor-sharp edge, your nerves firing wildly as he pumped his fingers faster, thumb joining to circle your clit alongside his tongue's assault. Juices squirted lightly with each thrust, soaking his wrist, the wet smacks of his mouth on you echoing too loudly in the night.

You thrashed in his hold, trying to muffle the cries with your hand, but they came out as desperate, breathy pleas—"N-Nicholas... can't... too loud..."—tears welled from the intensity, your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you, pussy spasming around his fingers, flooding his palm with your release.

"Fuck—" you gasped out, half plea and half prayer, “Oh hahh—Nicholas!”

He kept at it through the waves, sucking harder on your clit to draaaag out the tremors, fingers twisting deeper until you were a quivering mess, legs shaking uncontrollably over his shoulders.

The world around you spun, your vision blurring from the overload, every lap of his tongue sending aftershocks that bordered on pain. Finally, as you sagged against the wall, spent and panting, he eased back, lips glistening with your essence, a smug curl to his mouth as he looked up at you.

“Alright there, princess?” Nicholas murmured, voice rough from his feast, setting your legs down gently but keeping his hands on your thighs. He rested his forehead against your inner thigh for a moment before pressing a soft kiss there.

“I–” You panted, not knowing what to say. But it was alright—he didn’t need you to.

Nicholas rose slowly to his feet, hand planted on your waist to keep your stumbling body upright. You were on the verge of falling asleep right there and then if he didn’t pull your robe around you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, looking at you with an intrigued grin.

“Shall we set for sea now, Your Highness?”

fin.

A/N: guys im not even kidding Im actually shocked i managed to write all this in one day like what in the great lock in of 2026. Nichojoo are so fucking insane for this bruh im gonna kms yes of course there will be a nichojoo pirate threesome that im planning ehehehehe. tagging my beloved child @nichozzystuffs im sure she'll scream at me in our gc after reading and my wifey @your-local-lune she needs to give me head rn

divider by @cafekitsune

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