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bythenineshards · 6 months

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Suffering Fools

Summary: The new Doctor in Impel Down gives her patient a hand.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Tags: Buggy x OC, Canon x OC, Buggy x Syre

A/N: So this wasn't initially going to be smut, but it happened. It's not my best, but I hope y'all enjoy it. I said I would post it here, and I ain't a liar lol. So here it is. Stupid sexy clown.

Syre stuck out like a sore thumb in Impel Down. It took a few days for her to find the right words to describe how she felt, but when she did, it was like a slap to the face. Soft. Amid the torture, harsh stone walls, monsters, and even more monstrous guards, she felt soft. She supposed that was a good quality for a doctor to have, but it didn’t stop her from feeling out of place. When she’d joined the Marines, the goal had been to travel and help her comrades after battle. Not be stuck in a hellish prison. She had her theories as to how she’d gotten these orders, but the fight wasn’t worth the effort.

She eased back in her chair and blew out a breath. Paperwork all morning, and the stack mocked her with more into the afternoon. It was probably wrong for a doctor to wish for something to whisk her away from her desk. Only paperwork meant no one had been hurt enough to come see her. That was something else that rubbed her the wrong way. Tending to the guards that were hurt was one thing. Seeing the prisoners and mending their injuries for the purpose of giving them more suffering felt cruel even as a punishment.

The door to the infirmary swung open with unnecessary force, causing Syre to scramble to her feet. A single guard had kicked in the door and brought a prisoner into the infirmary slung over his shoulder. Syre watched as the guard, a hulking man of little rank, carelessly dropped the blue haired prisoner on the examination table. She moved closer cautiously, “What has happened?”

The guard began to strap the prisoner to the table. Syre had a variety of words she wished to impart about his roughness. All of them culminated in her raising hand with a singular finger outstretched to point out his mistakes, but she thought better of it. She got the feeling that trying to explain the possible repercussions of manhandling this inmate like a sack of potatoes that owed him money, was going to have the same effect as doing likewise with the lamp on her desk.

“Don’t know. Best guess? He got lippy with some of the men, and they took offense.” The guard stood back and admired his work, arms crossed with pride.

Syre pushed in close to the prisoner. Pulling out a pen light and gingerly lifting his eyelids. The pupils were responsive, that was good. “And you let this happen?”

“Why does it matter? He’s a pirate. A good pop in the mouth was good for him.” The guard replied, scratching the back of his neck.

She held back the string of insults she had been building and blew out an irritated sigh. At a cursory glance, the damage wasn’t too bad. But definitely more than a pop in the mouth. A few of the cuts needed to be cleaned, and his face was difficult to examine with the paint. Who was giving him paint? As she cataloged his injuries, he began to stir. Syre couldn’t help the smile she gave him. It had become a habit in her training as a physician. It was a little silly in this place, she thought, but her bedside manner wasn’t going to just walk out the door because she worked in a prison.

Buggy woke with a throbbing headache. There was something cold against his back and a tightness across his chest and encircling his wrists and ankles. The pain and discomfort were pushed from the forefront of his mind when he saw the woman standing over him. He’d heard from other men that Impel Down had gotten a new doctor, and now he understood the comments that she looked like she tasted sweet. Her hair was a lovely shade of pastel pink. It reminded him of cotton candy, and the chin length curls only added to that image. Their eyes met, and a smile touched her lips freely. Her eyes were brown and radiated a warmth that he wasn’t typically accustomed to.

“Good morning,” She said. Her accent was like poetry, “I am Doctor Syre Bon-”

“He doesn’t need to know your name. Just fix him up and call for us when he’s done,” the guard interrupted. Buggy eyed the man despite the strap across his forehead.

Syre pressed her lips in a tight line. Her eyes narrowed on the guard, but she stopped that building cacophony of disdain from getting past her lips. “Very well,” she said curtly.

She began to ready a tray of instruments, mostly for cleaning wounds, and set to work sterilizing them when she realized the guard hadn’t departed. Syre stopped working, and her eyes flicked up to the man standing there.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“Yeah, I was wondering,” His voice stammered slightly which was an odd juxtaposition to the way he leaned on the table, “when you’re done for the day, did you want to join me and some of the others for drinks? It’s just a few-”

“No, thank you.” Her response was blunt, and her eyes, surprisingly cold, went back to her work.

“It’s just a few of us-”

Syre interrupted with a clipped tone, “I gave you my answer. I will call for assistance when I am finished with this prisoner. Before you leave my infirmary, could you tell me his number? I need to document this incident.”

Buggy’s cheeks inflated with the laugh about to burst out of him like a balloon. The guard raised his hand to strike him for his insolence, and Buggy swallowed the laugh. Syre cleared her throat sharply, “You will not do harm to my patient. The number, then you will leave.”

The man looked from Buggy to Syre, weighing his options and considering the temptation to hit the bound clown. He lowered his hand and said, “Prisoner E-8200.”

“Thank you.” She replied, still short and frigid.

The guard nodded and left the infirmary. When the door closed, Buggy blew a raspberry in his direction, then struggled against the strap to face her. He caught her just in time to see the momentous eye roll she’d been holding back. She rose from her chair beside the examination table to cross to the desk. Buggy took the opportunity to watch the way her coat swished with the sway of her hips. She was petite but no less beautiful, and watching her walk was a highlight of today he hadn't expected. He stopped staring as she thumbed through the files and found his. The entire time, she was muttering something under her breath. He couldn’t quite hear the words, but the tone of them was thoroughly disgruntled.

“Ah! Here we are,” She said, “Prisoner E-8200… Oh, that is such a mouthful…”

He heard her going through the pages of his file as she walked back at a slower pace.

“You could call me by my name,” He suggested with an impish grin and waggle of his eyebrows. He wanted to hear her say his name.

“And what is your name?” She asked, plunking back down into the chair. They both knew it was right there in the file, but she was choosing to treat him like a person.

“You can call me Buggy, Dollface,” he replied with a wink, “Buggy the Clown.”

“Buggy, Buggy the Clown,” she repeated, as if tasting his name on her tongue. She smiled down at him, “As long as you do not tattle on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Buggy purred with a smirk bordering on wicked.

Her face had softened noticeably with the departure of the brute that brought him in. She had gone quiet and was cleaning the instruments again. As she cleaned, Syre took stock of him. He was tall, but that was by far the least interesting thing about him. His hair was a gorgeous blue, and despite it being a bit of a mess, she thought it was very pretty. It just needed to be brushed and pulled up to help it from getting tangled. He had painted on a big red smile and two bones crossed on his forehead, reaching just to the corners of his eyes. These were accompanied by red marks down the center of his blue eyes. Again, who was giving him paint for these? This was still not mentioning the most apparent trait of his. At first, she had thought the guards or his fellow inmates had managed to glue a big red ball on his nose, and she was pondering how best to extract it without causing him pain. However, after a longer survey of his face, she came to realize it was his true nose. It would be comical if she didn’t find it so deeply charming. It fit him perfectly.

“Does that happen often?” Buggy asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hm?” She asked, his question dragging her out of her musings about his appearance. “Which part?”

“The coming on to you?” He replied, picking which one to inquire about first.

She gave a lazy shake of her head that set the curls bouncing. The gesture wasn’t a no but more to suggest she was outwardly combing her recent memories. It was accompanied by a strangled sound that led into her saying, “Enough for it to be irritating…”

He nodded in understanding.

“The ones that just use words are not the worst. It’s the few that think smacking me on the behind will instantly fill me with desire that truly anger me. What are they thinking?” She made a gesture like she was swinging to spank someone on the ass and gasped a little, “Oh yes, please, take me I’m yours.”

She rolled her eyes again and muttered something else under her breath.

“Maybe they’re just trying to make it a win-win situation. You might say yes, you’re more likely to say no, they got to spank you either way.” He teased.

She smirked, but he didn’t get the laugh he’d been aiming for. With the tools clean, she leaned forward and took a deep breath. Beginning to clean the most egregious of the lacerations, “Poor thing…”

“You should see the other guy.”

“The other guy is not in my infirmary,” Syre said tartly, indicating to the other examination tables in the room. Buggy’s smug smile drooped like a birthday cake left in the rain. Her eyes were smiling, and it slipped to her lips with a giggle when she met his eyes. He watched as she fought the bubbling of laughter like the fizz of champagne. Attempting to quell the laughter, she took a slow, giggle laced breath to calm herself. She thought it was probably against protocol to joke with inmates, but the joy never left her beautiful eyes.

“Don’t look so glum, Mon Cher, you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Yippee.” Buggy replied unamused.

“Just try to play nice with the other boys.” She said, wiping up the blood. She chewed on her lip, and Buggy had the thought that he’d like to be that lip. “Though… I think this one is going to need stitches.”

Syre leaned over him to get a better look. Being at this proximity treated him to the smell of her perfume. It was sweet but in a cozy way, like warm vanilla but more subtle. It also occurred to him that she was nearly chest to chest with him. Her body was as soft as her glance was tender. She was debating the stitches while cleaning the cut and breathed, “Probably for the best that I do. Are you alright with that?”

“You’re the doc.” He replied, attempting to get comfortable on the table. Syre hated the cold tables. She thought they should at least have a pillow. It was just her luck that she would leave home to heal people and end up helping them to suffer more.

She slid her chair across the floor to the cupboard where the needles and thread were kept.

“There will not be many. I doubt it will scar,” Syre tried to reassure him then cocked a brow playfully, “Unless you wish for it to scar. I can do them messily and make it look rather fearsome.”

“And ruin all this handsome?” He scoffed.

“Fair enough,” She shrugged and went to begin the process.

Buggy squirmed away as best as he could with the leather strap, “Whoa there, Sweets! Aren’t you gonna do anything to numb me?”

Syre sat back, “I can not. I’m under strict orders to only use numbing agents on staff. They’re kept under lock and key, and I have yet to figure out how to jimmy open the lock. I am sorry…”

Buggy inhaled a long breath and released it with a raspberry, making Syre smile just a smidge.

“I will do my best to not make it hurt.”

His face told her without words that he didn’t believe that was possible. When she leaned back over him, he didn’t squirm, indicating a tiny bit of trust. “Good, Mon Cher, stay still.”

She could tell he was nervous. No part of her faulted him for that. It was one thing to get an injury by accident and another to watch with anticipation for it to happen. She tried to set him at ease by speaking, bringing up the first thing to pop into her head.

“I was on leave back home when I got my orders to come here,” she started, “They sent me the protocols so I could prepare myself and be informed before arriving. When I read the policy regarding pain, I ranted to my mother for a good hour.”

Buggy hissed with pain, and she stopped, an apology clear in her eyes.

“Keep talking, Dollface.” He demanded, wanting this to be over but enjoying the sound of her voice. It was like listening to a song. He didn’t understand some of the words she said but her inflection was damn near affectionate.

“She asked me what I was going to do? You see, my family was not thrilled that I studied to be a doctor and wanted to join the Marines. Obviously, seeing me so unhappy with my orders, I wanted to travel, and this is not travel. She was hoping that I would quit or refuse and stay home. I knew that was her intention, so I said that I would do what she used to do when my sisters or I got hurt.”

“Which was?” Buggy managed to say through gritted teeth.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips, “I said I would kiss and make it better,” she had to stop stitching due to her own laughter, “You should’ve seen the look on her face. It took me hours to convince her it was a joke.”

“I don’t know, Doll, I think it’s the least you could do considering you’re stabbing me in the face.”

Syre stopped, taken aback by the glint in his eyes. She felt her cheeks getting hot. Why had she told that story? She fought her now, shaking hands to finish quickly.

“All done.” She announced. More for herself than for him. “I will call for the guard-”

“Please don’t. Not yet.” Syre couldn’t help the pang in her heart hearing the plea in his voice, a finger plucking the ridiculous chord of sympathy in her.

She tried in vain to tuck a pale pink curl behind her ear, “I suppose I could…” She searched her mind for something she could do that would take time when her eyes fell on his hair, “Check you for lice?”

“I don’t have lice!” He spat back, thoroughly offended. “What kind of imbecile are you!? What next? Gonna make fun of my nose, huh?!”

Syre flicked his nose. “Of course not. But I should probably check. Do you mind if I comb your hair?”

The offense left his face immediately, finally back up to speed. It had been ages since he was able to brush his hair, and pure stubbornness had kept him from just cutting it.

“Not at all.”

“Good.”

Syre disposed of the needle and rummaged through her drawers, looking for a comb. She wouldn’t say it, but she was a tad giddy to rid his hair of the tangles. It was such pretty hair. Returning to her chair, she swiveled it to the head of the table and unbuckled the strap across his forehead. She gave him a moment to roll his neck while she formed a game plan. A quick look told her he didn’t, in fact, have lice, but she wasn’t about to tell him that she looked.

One by one, she tugged the fingers of her gloves loose and set the pair on the table beside his head. With the help of lifting his head, Syre gathered up all of his hair so that it cascaded off the edge of the table. She separated a lock and combed through it as gently as she could. If it snagged, she held just above and worked out the tangle until the comb went through with little resistance. The two of them were quiet for a long time. Syre wasn’t sure when his eyes had closed, but she didn’t mind. No matter what he had done, Impel Down was no joke. She wouldn’t begrudge him this respite.

“You mentioned you have sisters?” He asked, his tone calmer than before. Thoroughly enjoying the sensation of his hair being brushed.

“Mhm, two of them. Marie and Avery. I am the eldest.”

“All of you have pretty pink hair?”

“You think my hair is pretty?” She teased lightly.

He gave her a look that even upside down made her heart hop into her throat. Her cheeks were hot again, but this time, she was less worried. A comb wasn’t exactly the same as a needle.

“Yes,” She managed to squeak out, “we all do.”

Another silence was starting to build when Syre blurted in an embarrassed little voice, “You have pretty hair too…”

“I know I do, Baby.”

“Is it your natural color?” She asked.

“Why don’t you check for yourself?”

Syre allowed the nervous giggles but didn’t say anything more. With most of the tangles out of his hair, she placed the comb next to her gloves. She sat there for a long moment, biting her lower lip. Before reason or protocol could hinder her, she sank her fingers into his hair. Buggy let out a soft moan, and Syre let herself enjoy that sound low in her belly. Her fingertips drew swirls over his scalp, leading into her nails doing the same or giving him tight scritches. She ran her fingers down the tresses, blue strands slipping through her fingers like silk. Once they reached the end, she returned to massaging his scalp only to repeat their descent. Syre had been focused solely on his hair thus far, but the sound of the straps binding the rest of him being fought caused her to look up.

Her breath caught. She hadn’t noticed the growing tightness in his striped pants nor the writhing he had begun against his binds. Now Syre was doing a poor job of pretending not to notice. She was practically staring at it.

“Oh…” She whispered, “Should I stop?”

“Don’t.”

Syre tried not to look at it, but the breathy moan from before had led into ragged breathing, and primal instinct knew its call. Her face was on fire and grew hotter with each arch of his neck. Her fingers withdrew but were halted with a desperate whimper of, “No…”

“I really should stop…” She said, the blush clear in her voice, “You’re…”

He arched his neck enough to look her in the eyes. There was that gleam again. It sent her heart racing. Hungry, pleading, and looking to her for salvation. “Touch me…” He begged.

Syre gasped, her voice bordering on shrill, “What?”

“Please,” he added, “I can’t do it myself, or I would.”

“That’s obscene and crass and completely inappropriate,” she said, looking around the room, lingering on the door. Anything but looking at those eyes.

“C’mon Sweet girl,” Buggy purred, “Help me.”

Syre blinked, “I couldn’t.”

She tried to ignore it. Taking one of the few leftover hair ties she kept for her sister's hair emergencies and pulled his hair into a hasty ponytail. Syre was about to apologize for the color when she caught sight of his erection. It was still masked by the pants, but she was so tempted.

“Is there anything else I can do to help it go away?”

“Hand, mouth, over the pants or under, I don’t care. Please, Doc.”

She swiveled the chair around so that she was at his side. Her eyes momentarily brushed over the space between his stomach and the slight lift in his pants. A dusting of blue hair led down further, but she ripped her gaze back to his face, “That’s not what I meant. Is there-”

“Please…”

They’d taken so long already. A guard could come by to check on them at any time. If one of them showed up and he was this…aroused, Syre couldn’t see a way for him not to get the shit kicked out of him. Not wanting to do more harm than good, she bit her lip and slid her hand into his pants.

Syre wasn’t inexperienced with love affairs. Over the years, she’d had a few trysts, stolen a handful kisses, and even had a fumbling in the dark a time or two. This was much much different than any of those. There was a tension here that felt raw. She was stroking the cock of a prisoner housed in Impel Down. And he was looking at her with a hunger she wasn’t sure she could handle. His eyes, his history, his cock in her hand, all of it felt so deliciously wicked. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Oh Sweet Girl,” He moaned, arching off the table and elongating his neck into a curve. His hips pushed up into her hand. Each thrust inched the pants off, exposing his cock completely.

Hearing his tender words made the butterflies in her stomach flutter. He was so hard. She'd never felt such a thrill. "A-am I doing it right?"

It wasn’t exactly a hard task. She just felt so damn awkward.

He gave a moan mixed with a chuckle in response. She wasn't exactly sure what to say. This was new for her, but there was a part of her that was enjoying it, "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

“Kiss me.” He pleaded.

“I couldn’t…” She replied with a nervous laugh.

“But you want to. I can hear it in your voice. You’ve come this far. So why don’t you be a good girl and give me a kiss?”

Syre swallowed hard. She was already stroking him. Wasn't that supposed to be later, and a kiss came first? All of this was wrong. Why should she stop now?

"C’mon Doc…" He panted, "I kiss good."

Syre rose from her chair, sending it wheeling back. Her legs were shaking as she moved closer to his face. The chair hit one of the cupboards, causing her to look over. Seizing the opportunity, Buggy ran his tongue along her cheek. Syre squeaked and gripped his shaft harder in surprise. He rested back on the table with a dare in his eyes. She couldn't help but look at his painted lips.

"Just one kiss, Doll."

Syre bit her lip nervously, and he looked a little sad. "Let me do that for you."

Syre caved to the temptation and leaned down to brush her lips against his. Her free hand came up to caress his face, and it didn't take long for him to beg entrance into her mouth. His tongue prodded her lips, and she moaned when it slipped inside with the slightest part. His hands struggled against the straps. He wanted so badly to touch her, too. When he finally broke the kiss, he breathed, "Harder baby, grip it harder..."

"Are you going to cum for me?" The question was posed in the sweetest voice he'd ever heard. She wanted him to. Needed it just as much as he did. Her face, flushed red and lustful mixed with the desire in her eyes to kiss him again, it was too much.

He arched his back, fighting against the straps. Syre was breathless as his cock pulsed in her hand. She didn't mind the hot seed creeping over her hand. She was enthralled. He was inches from her face, panting in ecstasy and holding her gaze. His eyes were hooded with pleasure. She'd never felt more powerful.

"Fuck…" He moaned, his body trembling. Lips brushing against hers just from proximity. As she looked down over his body, he nibbled her ear. Groaning with the aftershocks of his climax.

"F-feel better?" She asked after he seemed to be coming down. She was tempted to give him another kiss, but that would be too much.

"Yes. Oh yes. I wish I could do the same for you." He panted.

She was getting bashful under his eye. "That's not necessary…"

"To stain those thighs red…" He mused, "and if the rest of you is as sweet as your kisses…"

He was growing hard again just thinking about it. "Oh no, you don't!" Syre released him and scuttled to the sink. She didn't need paint for her face to be as red as his lips. Hell, Buggy didn't even need to see it to know it was red. She scrubbed his seed off of her hand while trying to calm herself.

"You want to, though."

"Don't be ridiculous..." She forced a laugh.

Buggy had to give her some credit. Her voice had stayed mostly even, but her cheeks were a dead giveaway. That didn't mention her avoidance of his eyes.

"I won't tell anyone, Dollface." Buggy tempted. "You already know I kiss good, just think what else I can do."

Syre took a measured breath and covered him back up, eyes lingering just a little too long on the blue hair on his lower stomach. "For your sake, Prisoner E-8200, stay out of fights."

Before Buggy could tempt her again, there was a knock at the infirmary door. The guard from before poke his head in, "Everything okay, Doc?"

"Yes, we just finished up. You may take him," She waved dismissively but avoided eye contact with either man.

The guard unstrapped him and roughly got him to his feet. "No funny business, Clown."

Buggy turned to look at Syre and blew her a kiss. "Thanks, Doc."

The guard shoved him down, "Get moving!"

Syre was left in her infirmary, reeling from what had just happened. She busied herself, getting ready for another patient. She tossed the comb, but when she retrieved her gloves, she found one was missing. She furrowed her brows and looked up at the door with a sigh.

Walking down the halls of Impel Down, Buggy held the soft white glove hidden in his hands. A devilish smile across his face.

#buggy the clown #buggy x oc #buggy x syre #buggy fanfiction #one piece oc #suffering fools #fem oc #female oc x Buggy

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bythenineshards · 6 months

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My irl coworker found my fanfic

#suffering fools #syre bonne aventure #buggy x oc #buggy x syre #buggy the clown #she found my cringe #lord help me

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bythenineshards · 6 months

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Suffering Fools (Chapter Two)

Summary: Impatient Buggy returns to Doc Syre.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, Syre fixes a broken arm. It's brief, but I thought it should be mentioned.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! This chapter isn't exactly NSFW, but the fic as a whole is, so I'm gonna label it as such. Enjoy my cringe!

Buggy needed to choose his fights more carefully. He had to find the balance of getting to see the doctor and not being able to enjoy the interaction. Could he have waited a few days to get the stitches out? Sure. But why would he? His potentially broken ribs were the penalty for his hubris as the jailers dragged him between them. It was bad enough that he had to hide his abilities or risk worse conditions, but on top of that, she wasn’t even alone today.

The guards brought him in much the same as they had two or so days before. Syre glanced back from the table she was working at. Buggy got to see her do a double take before looking to the guards and asking, “Again?”

“Hasn’t learned his lesson yet?” Another woman’s voice asked, a touch amused. The woman, Domino, was leaning on the cupboards and watching as Syre tended to another inmate. Her arms were crossed, but her general demeanor was more relaxed than Buggy was used to seeing one from the jailers. Despite the dark sunglasses and blonde hair covering her eyes, Buggy knew she was looking at him.

“I’ll get you fixed up after I’m done with him,” Syre assured Buggy, her voice more professional than their previous interaction would suggest.

“No problem, Dollf-” He caught himself and coughed, his ribs protesting this heavily, “Doc.”

Domino slid her gaze from Buggy to Syre, and the pink haired doctor gave a shrug, the pair deciding it was nothing, “So what happened next?”

Syre brightened, “Right! So Marie and I, livid that they wouldn’t let us go to the party, convinced Avery to sneak in and get us some of the desserts.”

“Why weren’t you allowed to go?” Domino asked with something almost adjacent to a smile.

“I was twelve, Marie nine and Avery six,” Syre explained, then paused, “Could you help me with this?”

Domino uncrossed her arms and allowed Syre to instruct her as she prepared to reset the broken arm of an inmate Buggy didn’t recognize. She had the jailer hold a strip of thick leather in his mouth. Syre was unwavering in her movements. Snapping the bone back into place with precision and stern confidence. The man screamed out in agony and continued to cry as she put his arm in a cast. Even the two men that had brought Buggy in looked away uncomfortably. Once it was all done, she washed his face of sweat. “There we are. You were very brave.”

“Thank you…” The inmate sobbed, clearly a mess from the pain but trying in vain to appear more manly.

She gave him a warm smile as the two guards went to take the inmate back to whatever level he was housed on. She told them with a steely voice how to prevent the arm from getting worse. There was a thinness to her voice though, the cruelty was wearing on her and she knew her words were falling on deaf ears.

Buggy noticed immediately that Syre wasn’t referring to the inmate by the foreign nicknames. He settled into the cold metallic table, smug as can be. The thought that Domino’s presence was the more likely reason didn't cross his mind. He was special to the Doctor.

“So what next?” The blonde jailer hadn’t left yet. Buggy had hoped she would accompany the inmate that was just removed but no such luck. She came to sit at the foot of the table Buggy was strapped to. He wasn’t exactly complaining but he’d hoped for some alone time with the Doc.

“We were much too young to attend such a gathering. Even one thrown by my own family.” Syre explained, as she fetched Buggy’s file and realized the guards hadn’t told her anything. She hastily walked to the door and called down the hall, “WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?”

There was a distant, muffled response that didn’t seem to please her. She began a slew of words in that oddly lyrical language Buggy assumed was her native tongue.

Domino smiled just a little with Syre’s frustration, “Idiots. The lot of them.”

Syre sighed, “It’s like they all share a single brain cell.”

Domino nodded in agreement, “So what happened?”

“Oh they said he got into another fight and wanted me to look him over. Something about his chest looking bad.” Syre explained, clearly annoyed by their lack of details, “I hope his ribs are not broken…”

She lifted the hem of his shirt to start her examination, concern soaking into her eyes before they widened at the sight of the blue hair that sat low on his stomach. It was almost enough for her to completely forget about the bruising.

“I meant the party.”

“Oh!” Syre laughed brightly. Dropping the shirt and continuing her story, as she took his vitals and jotted them down, “Marie and I convinced Avery to sneak down into the party. She was the smallest, therefore not easily spotted and if she was caught, she could burst into tears. She was quite talented with that. Boo Hoo! Papa, I had a nightmare! You understand.”

“Cute.”

“We thought so too,” Syre smiled, looking proud of her past self, “We told her to go down and get some of the cakes for us to share.”

“She got caught and couldn’t cry?” Domino predicted.

“No, worse.” Syre said, getting her stethoscope and warming it with her hands. It was then that Buggy noticed she wasn’t wearing the gloves from before. One was in his pocket at present. It smelled of her perfume and may have had a new smearing of red paint.

“We weren’t specific enough with her and she, somehow, got a three tier cake out of the party without being caught.”

“What?! How?”

Syre gestured vaguely, “Not a clue! We meant for her to get maybe a plate with some of the cookies and little cakes. Something easy to hide but nooooo. Avery said go big because she was already at home.”

Syre sat on the edge of the table, half considering cutting away his entire shirt or asking Domino to help her remove it. She felt something caress her thigh. It was just the slightest of touches, hardly a caress but it caused her to stammer, “W-we panicked of course. We tossed around the idea of sneaking it back into the party but it was lucky she wasn’t caught taking it. We didn’t want to risk it. So we did what any young girls would do.”

“Tried to eat it all yourselves?”

Syre gave a grave nod. She was trying hard to disregard the suggestive caresses to her thigh.

Domino chuckled, “How did that go?”

“We still feel nauseous at the smell of coconut cake,” Syre shuddered.

Domino’s chuckling ended in a sigh, “I should probably get back.” She didn’t sound like she wanted to. It seemed like everyone grew tired of the cold, militaristic atmosphere at Impel Down and enjoyed just feeling like people in a more normal workplace. Syre already missed being able to talk with her sisters and mother. Talking with Domino had sort of filled that void but it was different. She’d tried to do the same with Sadi but it hadn’t gone as well. The woman frightened her, if she was being honest.

Buggy stifled the urge to nod vigorously. He was growing impatient. Touching Syre's leg and getting her flustered was fun but the man wanted to flirt and make her blush.

“Actually,” Syre began, “Could you help me again?”

NO! Buggy thought and it reached his face before he shoved it back down.

Domino nodded, “Sure. What do you need?”

“I want to get a good look at his chest and back, and check his lungs but in order to do that, I need to unstrap him.” Syre explained while focusing on keeping herself calm. She was a professional. This patient was no different than her last. Plenty of patients, especially here, made eyes at her. They made comments about her appearance. She was being ridiculous. Their last interaction had been a momentary lapse in judgment. Her life had been fairly sheltered before. It was new and exciting to have a pirate get so desperate for her touch. It wouldn’t happen again.

Domino had caught Syre’s meaning and readied her weapon. Syre looked down at Buggy, warning him, “I don’t want to have to take care of a gunshot wound with nothing for the pain.”

Buggy’s curiosity was piqued by how she kept her voice so level and firm when her eyes were brimming with compassion. He nodded his own understanding, getting shot didn’t sound like fun to him either.

He could see Syre inwardly debating how best to unstrap him from the table. She shrugged and started with his head then worked her way down. He grunted as he slowly got in a sitting position.

“Could you please remove your shirt?” Syre asked, mentally patting herself on the back. So far, so good. Her face wasn’t warm. She was cool as a cucumber. Buggy peeled off his shirt and Syre swallowed hard, hoping Domino was too focused on Buggy to notice. Her eyes ran over his bare torso and she felt her cucumber coolness melting away. She didn’t know why it hadn’t quite sunk in that he would be sculpted like this. He was a pirate captain. That meant he did work on a ship and likely had been doing so since he was a boy. Why wouldn’t he be covered in hardened muscle? Maybe it was the fact that he looked like a clown that threw her off of the trail. Speaking of trails… the blue hair was on full display and Syre had to shake her head to dislodge the urge to gawk. Cool as a cucumber.

To begin her examination, she took in the quantity of the bruises around his stomach and chest. Circling the table to see how bad they were on his back. There were a few that gave her pause and she had to stop herself from appearing too soft about it. Once she was at his front again, she stepped closer. Not quite between his legs, though the thought did cross her mind. It didn’t seem like a bright idea even with a gun trained on him. She finally took the stethoscope and pressed it to his heart. She listened for a long moment before nodding in approval. Moving it over she said, “Alright, Mon-,” She caught herself but didn’t cover it well, “Um… could you give me a deep breath?”

Buggy did as she asked. He glanced over at her briefly as he did so. She was stone faced and listening intently. “Did that hurt?”

“Not much.”

“Another, slower this time.”

As before he did as she requested, twice more after. She moved the stethoscope to his back, placing a hand on his shoulder and asking him for more deep breathing. Each time she inquired about pain but his answers were negative except the final breath that came with a tight grimace. Her eyes went soft with that and searched his face. The look he gave her in return was overwhelmingly filled with hunger. It made her mouth go dry with its promise of all it wanted to do with her. Completely unabashed, his eyes told her that he didn’t care that he was at gunpoint. His eyes wanted her to know that if Domino wasn’t there, he’d mark her body with red paint. It made her legs feel like jelly.

She avoided looking at Domino as she removed the stethoscope, “Your lungs seem fine. Why don’t you lie down?’

With Domino’s help, he was strapped back down. Syre had to stifle a squeak as he took the chance while laying down to run the backs of his fingers down her thigh. Syre stopped Domino from binding his chest as she was going to check his ribs. With Buggy secured, Domino clicked her tongue.

“Now I should really get back…” Domino sighed, “See you tonight?”

Syre looked up from Buggy’s exposed chest. She hoped Domino thought she was merely doing an examination rather than the blatant ogling she had been indulging in. “Yes. I will be there.”

“Great.”

The shutting of the door echoed in Syre’s mind. She was alone with Buggy now. He was resting his eyes but his painted lips were smirking. There was a long moment for the both of them where Syre searched for something to say but words were frightfully lost in her dry mouth. One of Buggy’s eyes cracked open as Syre was wringing her hands.

“So no coconut cake?” He asked, making her jump a little.

Once she realized what he’d said, she laughed, “No, I can’t stand the stuff.”

“What do you like?”

Syre cocked a brow, “For dessert or…?”

He shrugged as best as he could, “Surprise me.”

Syre thought for a moment while starting to gently poke and prod at his ribs. “I really like Lemon

Meringue.”

“Never heard of it.” He said with a grunt as one of the bruises disagreed with Syre’s prodding.

“Sorry, Mon Chér,” She cooed. “It’s a pie that has lemon curd topped with whipped egg whites and sugar. It was the only thing my mother insisted on making herself. She said the cook never got it quite right.”

Buggy’s brows shot up, “Cook? Sounds like you were a silver spoon kinda girl.”

“Eh,” Syre replied, “What about you? What do you like?”

“Besides Doctors with cotton candy hair?”

Syre’s resolve crumbled. Her face bent to the temptation and she blushed full and hot to the tips of her ears. “I meant to eat, silly.”

“I said what I said, Sweetcheeks.” He grinned at her, large, toothy and deeply immodest.

The frightening yet tantalizing look made her push a little too hard. The seduction cracked as he yowled in pain.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, withdrawing her hands like he was on fire. "You need to stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what, Sweetness?" He feigned innocence but his eyes still held the dark, sensual playfulness.

She flicked his nose, "Like that! It's full of sin and very distracting."

"Oh? Is that so?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, blinking his long eyelashes at her.

She looked at him, thoroughly devoid of humor yet still blushing mildly, "I have scalpels."

“Is that a promise, Sweets? Slice me up and serve me like your lemon pie?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively but the effect was more comical than carnal.

Syre let herself laugh, which seemed to please him. Once the laughs had run out, she pulled up a chair and sat as face to face with him as she could. She didn’t loom over him. Smoothing her jacket, the last of her amusement lingered in her eyes. “Mon Chér… I need to check your ribs and I can’t do that when you’re being a scoundrel, and making my head fuzzy.”

Her face was so filled with concern that it struck Buggy. She actually cared. Not because it was her job, not because she would get anything for it, not even deep down. The sincere air to her face was an open book.

“Fine. But only until you’re done with my ribs. I can’t make any promises after that.”

Her face lit up, “Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t tell anyone I follow orders from you, Toots.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Syre stood, gingerly checking each rib then the cartilage closer to the center. Her touch was delicate, like he was a priceless work of art and she was appraising him. Warm brown eyes like cognac flitted between his chest and face. Searching for the pain he might conceal behind bravado. Her bare fingers caused goosebumps to raise and more than once she had to stop her eyes from traveling further down. She wondered if her touch was giving him a similar reaction as their previous encounter. Would she do much the same if it was? Would she push further?

“You didn’t answer my question from a bit ago,” Syre said, softly. Her voice was distant, not uninterested but focused on what she was doing. The need to make polite small talk warring with her methods as a physician. It lended more credence to Buggy’s theory that she came from a more well to do upbringing. What he didn’t consider was she was trying desperately to cool her fantasies.

“About what? I was distracted by a pretty doctor.”

A smile flashed across her face, “What do you like? Foodwise.”

“Nothing as fancy as lemon meringue. Hotdogs, I love hotdogs.”

“I’ve never had one,” Syre admitted.

“Of course you didn’t, your cook had better things to make,” He teased.

Syre rolled her eyes. “Out of curiosity, what things would you do if I said the examination is over?”

She’d lost the war with modesty in her head.

A devilish smirk spread across his face, equal parts dark and jovial, “You like when I’m… what was the word you used? Sinful?”

She held her face as neutral as she could muster. This was the third time she was going over his ribs. He couldn’t tell if she was just being extra sure or enjoyed touching his chest with her bare hands. It could be both. He wouldn’t complain about both.

“I have a favor to repay, Doll. I gave you options and I know which one I’d take to repay it.” He said, licking his lips.

“If your ribs were broken or even cracked, I wouldn’t risk making them worse,” Syre straightened and placed her hands on her hips.

“My face ain’t my ribs.” He smirked, “You’re avoiding what I asked. You like this, don’t you?”

Syre went to answer but the words caught in her throat. She looked down at him. Her eyes only briefly lingering on his lips before holding his gaze. She replied honestly. "I shouldn't but..."

“You do.” He finished for her and she nodded making her curls bounce.

“I ain’t complaining,” he said in an odd effort to comfort her that was still drenched in smugness.

Syre collapsed back in the chair and bit her lip. Buggy watched her do it and saw the conundrum in her mind. She was a Marine and a Doctor in a prison full of some of the worst scum imaginable. Yet she was enjoying attention from said scum. She was indulging in something wrong in its own right. Did this make her a bad doctor? Most likely.

“No no Sweets, you really ought to let me do that biting for you…” Buggy purred, pulling her away from her semi-spiral.

She blinked at him and a single laugh burst out before she could stop it, “I thought you were going to stop being rakish until the exam was over?”

“I did my best.” He tried to shrug but was still woefully tied down.

Running a hand through her hair, Syre took a deep breath. “Alright… so… the good news, I don’t think any of your ribs are broken. Nor do I think any of them are cracked. You got lucky.”

“Lucky would be you on top of me,” Buggy retorted.

Syre tried to give him an unamused look but he only winked at her. She stood, folding his shirt neatly and preparing to go for the door.

Buggy cleared his throat to stop her, “Before you call the guards to take me back to hell, you hurt me Sweetcheeks. Flicking my nose and all. I think by your own policy, you owe me a kiss.”

Syre lifted a brow with a smirk of her own, “You’re quite right.”

Without hesitation, Syre leaned down and kissed his nose.

Buggy laid there in shock. It happened so fast he had little time to process it, much less the ease in which she had done it. Like she’d been thinking about doing so for days. He saw it happen, felt the tenderness then saw her pleased smile. As he stared, she strode to the door and called for the guards.

“No more fights, Mon Chér,” She commanded as the guards filed in to take him back to level one. His shirt was handed to the guard and in turn thrown in Buggy’s face. She held his gaze as he scrambled to pull it on, soft blush warming her cheeks as she got a good last look at his exposed chest and with just the barest bite to her lower lip.

Buggy was about to get into another fight.

#suffering fools #buggy x syre #buggy x oc #oc x canon #buggy the clown #one piece fanfiction #syre bonne aventure #one piece oc

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bythenineshards · 7 months

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So I've been working on this fic with Syre and Buggy for awhile. It has consumed me.

I've run into a problem, though, and I wanted second opinions. Rationally speaking, and my husband agrees, Buggy could kidnap Syre only a handful of times before her family locked her completely away and shot anyone who got near on sight. This situation of him taking her and returning her would have to come to a head where she would either have to stay with him or not.

Now, the big dumb romantic side of me sees this coming to a head with an arranged marriage her family has been planning between her kidnappings. Hokey side wants Buggy to crash the wedding, steal the bride and proclaim he's not giving her back this time. However, my husband and I both agree that this is far too heroic for him to do. No matter how much he cares for her, he's not this kind of guy.

Idk what to do. I've considered that she flees the wedding. Another idea is that Buggy is finally caught in the act and Syre breaks him out. My husband thought it'd be funny if they caught him in the act and the parents confront him revealing that they weren't clueless. Depending on where this is in his failing upwards to power, they have no qualms marrying her off to a Warlord or Yonko. No one who is kidnapping their daughter and returning her in better condition than before is doing it for the money alone. There's also a related idea that the arranged marriage is a hoax to get Buggy to sit down with them and come to an agreement. The groom is an actor and Syre is just as confused.

What are y'alls thoughts?

#buggy the clown #buggy x oc #one piece buggy #one piece oc #buggy x syre #oc x canon

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bythenineshards · 6 months

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The only fool suffering here is me.

*looks at Crocodile pawing at my Cotton Candy Doctor and glares*

Me: My dude, leave. I don't need your dark romance, enemies to lovers clouding up Syre. She is loyal to the clown. Leave.

I am a weak woman.

#suffering fools #buggy x syre #one piece crocodile #syre x crocodile #syre bonne aventure #i am not apologizing for this #i am a weak woman #crocodile #sir crocodile

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bythenineshards · 28 days

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I wouldn't tell anyone I won the lottery, but there would be hints...

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bythenineshards · 5 months

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Suffering Fools (Chapter Three)

Summary: Things got out of hand, and Buggy has to stay in the infirmary overnight.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, like seriously... don't... improper use of devil fruit powers. There are some mentions of medical work. I'm personally squeamish, so I try to keep it from being too gross.

Tags: Buggy x OC, Canon x OC, Buggy x Syre.

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. I think what I'm gonna do is wait until I actually get to Impel Down in the anime before doing any rewrites. This is just for funsies anyway. Hell, it might work out fine

In the few minutes that Buggy had been strapped to the table, Syre hadn't said a word he understood. She might’ve said something in the time between getting through the door and being strapped to the table but when more guards came in carrying more participants, she devolved into a flurry of hasty yet angry sounding words in her native tongue.

She strode around her office, slamming tools and aggressively flipping through the files. Prisoner after prisoner was brought in and bound to the tables. The infirmary filled with a mix of pained groans and low voiced threats to Buggy. Syre’s tirade ended at Buggy’s side. Lying on the examination table was an absolute wreck of a clown. The only reason she knew it was him was his nose, and even that had a number of imitators. There were so many bumps and bruises he looked like he’d not only lost a fight with a swarm of bees but also a kangaroo. She could hardly tell what was blood and what was paint.

Syre pinned his file to the right of his head with a slam, then with arms crossed, she exclaimed, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Buggy gave her a pained sheepish smile, "It got out of hand."

Syre scoffed with disbelief and shook her head. She looked fit to burst. “I will see you last, Mon Ch-” She pursed her lips withholding the affectionate nickname with a growl and spitting out, “Prisoner! It seems you like being in pain. Fine, have it your way. Wallow in it for all I care.”

But she did care. Even with his swollen eyes, he saw the worry etched all over her face. It doubled then tripled with the flood of inmates that were brought in for her care. From what the guards had pieced together, Buggy had cracked a string of jokes at the expense of one of the bigger guys on level one. When the inmate had predictably reacted with violence, Buggy didn’t hold back. He drew in more people with joke ladened insults, and before long, there was an infirmary full of inmates.

She sighed, repeating his statement of, “It got out of hand,” in a mocking tone as she unbuttoned her coat and draped it over one of the chairs. Underneath was a simple white tank top and the room got a little quieter. Syre started with a quick examination of each of the inmates. Mentally noting the worst injuries and forming a list of everything she needed to do. Buggy had assumed she would go patient to patient, taking care of all their issues then sending them back but that wasn’t the case. She moved from table to table prioritizing the worst injuries, stitching up and cleaning, tending to broken noses and fingers. With the most gruesome wounds taken care of, she returned to sort out their less worrying injuries. She did keep to her word though. Buggy was left alone for the duration of this.

With nothing better to do than feel the pain he wrought upon himself, Buggy watched Syre tend to the inmates. It was like watching an artist at work. He’d gotten a hint of it the previous day when she reset the broken arm. She spoke softly to each man, explained what she was doing and kept constant vigilance to their comfort. She did not refer to any of them as “Mon Cher.” She didn’t blush or get fuzzy either. Even if she wasn’t tending to him, he caught her looking over at him in concern a handful of times. Each time, if she noticed he was staring she’d scowl at him.

It was during one of the few times she hadn’t noticed when the door opened and two younger Marines entered the infirmary. Syre’s concerned eyes lifted from Buggy to the newcomers. One of the boys had a mop of similarly pink hair to Syre and the other was taller and blond.

“Bonjour!” Syre called to the pair, cheerful if not a little tired. It had been a good long time by then, and she hadn’t taken a break since the inmates had been brought in. She rose from her seat and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “What can I do for you?”

The two young men stopped and saluted her, and she gave a halfhearted return salute. The pink haired one spoke for the pair, and Buggy groaned with his peppy demeanor, “Ma’am we’ve been sent to assist you, I’m Koby, and this is Helmeppo.”

“Enchanté I welcome the help. You may call me Syre or Doctor. Whichever you prefer,” She led them through the infirmary, “Did they tell you what has happened?”

“Not really, Ma’am,” Helmeppo replied, starting at the realization that he hadn’t used either of the names she’d given them and corrected, “Doctor…”

Syre gave a pleasant little giggle and waved off the folly, “Ma’am works too.”

“We aren’t medically trained either, Doctor,” Koby added, “But we’re willing to learn.”

Syre looked a little worried about that fact but shrugged. The worst of it was taken care of, and she didn’t mind teaching them something that might come in handy later. If she couldn’t be out helping her brothers in arms, then she could at least teach others to do it for her. She lingered near Buggy’s table and scowled at him, “Prisoner E-8200 started a fight that got out of control, and now we have to pick up the pieces. I’ve taken care of the worst of it so far, but there’s still a lot to do.”

Koby surveyed the prisoner on the table with a tilt of his head, “Is that Buggy the Clown?”

Syre narrowed her eyes on Buggy, “Yes. It is indeed a clown.”

She sauntered away, ignoring the apologetic grin he offered her. The boys watched her carefully, and though Buggy couldn’t really hear all that she was saying, he heard the patience in her tone. She taught them what to look for and how to properly clean the abrasions and ease swelling. She explained what was in each salve and what it did for the patient. Helmeppo took on stitching up a split in an inmate's forehead and went green upon feeling the flesh and had to stop before finishing. The clown raucously laughed at the boy’s queasy face, earning him another glare from Syre as she came to face the boy. She placed a comforting hand on his back.

“Sorry…” He said between dry heaves.

“It’s alright,” Syre said, “breathe, Mon Chér. In through the nose and out through the mouth.”

When he heard his nickname being used for the Marine, Buggy frowned, but Syre didn’t see it. She rubbed the boy’s back and used her foot to slide a trash bin over in front of him. She didn’t think he was going to vomit, but it was better to have it than not. “It’s different than you expect and takes some getting used to. When I was taught, we had two people in the class faint.”

“Really? It just felt like-” Helmeppo pinched his fingers together and heaved again, sending Buggy into a fit of cackling. Syre stood and approached Buggy. His laughter was smothered with the glove she shoved into his mouth.

“Behave or I’ll send you back just as you are.” She threatened then returned to her work.

As they worked, the boys told Syre all that was going on outside the walls of the prison. Buggy wasn’t really listening, but he picked up that they were also discussing their training and how it compared to hers. Swapping stories and common experiences in training, it was all too sappy and wholesome for him.

Hours later, Koby and Helmeppo were tending to the last few inmates when Syre came to loom over Buggy. She looked tired, and his mind covered up the slight pang of guilt he felt with the idea of this being how she would look after he was done with her. If he had his way, of course. Wordlessly, she checked his vitals and removed the glove from his mouth. She checked to see if his nose was broken, though she had no idea how she would fix it if it was. Her touch was tender as she squeezed and prodded. The honk his nose made was so unexpected that she cracked a smile and tittered before smothering it down to being angry again. Normally, Buggy would’ve been enraged that someone dared to laugh at his nose. However, he was so relieved to see how thin her angry facade was that being upset by it didn’t spring to mind. Next, she gingerly ran her hands over his chest, arms, and each finger to check for breaks. By the time she’d gotten to his toes, Koby and Helmeppo had released the last of the other inmates back to their levels. They approached the table and stood at attention.

“Anything else, Doctor?”

She shook her head then looked up at them. “Actually, yes, when you return to your superior officer, could you tell the Warden that I intend to keep Prisoner E-8200 overnight? I fear for his life due to retaliation from his fellow inmates.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Koby replied, both boys giving her a salute.

“Thank you for your help,” Syre smiled and the boys left her and Buggy alone.

She remained quiet as she finished checking his legs and feet for breaks. Having worked down one side and back up the other in silence. She was writing something down in his file when she abruptly asked.

"Are you doing this to see me?"

A big toothy grin spread across his face.

Her eyes softened but then redoubled in rage.

“Mon Chér, I am not worth this!" She gestured to the room and then himself.

"Speak for yourself, Sweetness. I'd endure a lot worse to see that face." He met her eyes. She was fuming, yet he still dared to smirk at her, "Even that face."

Syre exhaled a substantial amount of fury but said nothing.

"Even now, you're the nicest thing in this hellhole." Buggy said and he saw her hinder her writing.

“I do not want to be the cause of pain and suffering!” She retorted, “Did you not see the other men in here?”

“I don’t give two shits about those bastards.”

“Look what they’ve done to you!” She exclaimed, her eyes soft and brimming with worry, “You are hurt, and it’s my fault! I’m afraid to send you back for fear of what they will do to you! Or worse, what you will do to get back in here to see me.”

“Sounds like you should just keep me here,” Buggy grinned wickedly.

Syre rolled her eyes and muttered something he didn’t understand.

“If it makes you feel any better, once those idiots were so distracted fighting each other, I slipped out unnoticed.”

This earned another exasperated sigh. The mask of anger was thin, but it was iron lined. Once she cataloged all of his injuries, she worked in silence. This was his punishment. She knew he liked hearing her talk, so she was withholding her pretty accent. The softness in her eyes was all but gone, too. Syre was cold as she cleaned him up and repaired the damage. He hadn’t been lying. If he wouldn’t have said anything, she would’ve likely guessed that he had snuck out of the brawl before any non-superficial damage was done. So, while he looked fairly gruesome, he’d survive. While she was at it, she removed his stitches. If he had just waited a few days, he would’ve been in here without the need for the fight.

“There you are.” She said and rose from her seat beside him. Syre ran a hand through her curls as she made her way to her desk. Stopping to pull on her coat and fumble with the buttons. Looking down at herself, she sighed. Her uniform pants were bloodstained. Buggy heard a drawer open and close along with some grumbling. He strained against the leather strap to see what she was doing. Syre didn’t quite like the way the dress blues skirt looked with the coat, but it would have to do for now. She was exhausted but courtesy of the clown, she had a mountain of paperwork. She ignored his attempts to get her attention, and after a while, he gave up.

“You called that boy Mun Share.” He said when listening to her scribble in files got too boring.

The writing stopped, but she didn’t turn to look at him, “What?”

“Mun Share? That’s my nickname.”

Syre scoffed, “Mon Chér means My Dear. I call-”

“You call me Dear?” She could hear the smirk in the smug bastard’s voice.

She exhaled through her nose in frustration, “You are trying to make me fuzzy. It is not going to work.”

“But you’re so much fun when you’re fuzzy.”

She whirled to look at him, “I have paperwork to do.”

“Paperwork later, Sweets,” He whined, “come here and let me make it up to you.”

She turned away with a huff.

“Come on Dollface-”

Syre didn’t even turn to look at him, “Another word and I will gag you again. Don’t try me, Mon Chér.”

Buggy wasn’t sure how long he was laying there when she finally pushed out from the desk. She stretched out her legs then stood to do the same with the rest of her. She meandered over to his table, she knew it was a horrible idea but she was drowsy and needed to move. He didn’t say anything despite being tempted. Having her glove in his mouth wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Her bare fingers grazed the swelling around one of his eyes, and she nodded, he assumed that was a good thing. He managed to catch her gaze, and to his surprise, she smiled just a little. It wasn’t exactly a smile. Her eyes got that soft look in them, but that was good enough for him. She blew out a breath and unstrapped his head, letting him roll his neck.

He watched as she unbuttoned the coat again, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, then morphed into a wide grin. He could see now that she had changed into a different uniform than before, and he liked this one better, “Taking me up on my offer?”

Syre rolled her eyes, but of the handful of times he’d seen her do it, she didn’t even look annoyed with him, just amused. She folded the coat into a little rectangle and set it on his chest.

“Doll, folding it makes it a terrible blanket.”

Still no words. Syre moved to the head of the table and looked down at him. Careful not to hurt him, she released his ponytail. He didn’t have to tell her how good it felt to have his hair down, the groan he breathed out when she massaged his scalp was enough to pull her lips into a small actual smile. She didn’t do it for very long, likely to not risk another tent situation. Next, she reached over him to grab the folded coat and slid it under his head. Buggy stared up at her, not sure if he should say anything. Her eyes were hooded, whether from exhaustion or interest, Buggy didn’t care. Either way made his chest was tight, and he stifled the urge to use his Chop Chop powers to get close enough to kiss her.

He could see the conflict in her eyes and which side was winning. She rested on one of her hands, and the other ran fingertips over his stubbled jaw. He leaned into her palm when it cupped his cheek. Her hand was soft and warm, just like the rest of her. Her lips parted when he kissed her bare palm, leaving red smudged across it.

“I shouldn’t do this…” She breathed, withdrawing her hand.

“Why not?” Afraid you’ll get addicted?”

Syre allowed herself to giggle, “No. But I fear you already are.”

Buggy shrugged as best he could, “What if I am? There are worse things than sweet doctors.”

There was a longing in her pretty brown eyes but her lips said, “This is wrong.”

“Wrong? Doc, I want more.”

“I am taking advantage of you, Mon Chér.” She corrected, “You’re a prisoner here, and I have power over you. I could request that you be taken to a lower level for the fighting.”

“Oh but a sweet girl like you wouldn’t do that,” he purred.

She felt a little challenged by that notion. A bit ago, she had considered requesting his transfer to Level Two to keep him from the prisoners he’d severely pissed off. She wasn’t sure one night was going to be enough to cool tensions with them. If he was this vexing while trying to put him from her mind in this manner, just how much did he linger in the minds of those he pissed off? He might have to stay a few days if that was the case.

“I’m in a lot of pain, Doc…” He said and Syre knew what he was asking for.

She crossed her arms and looked at him thoroughly unamused, “Buggy, that’s not going to work.”

“Why not?” He whined.

“I’ve told you, I have an unfair advantage over y-”

“Pssh…” He dismissed her point and rolled his eyes. “Doc, I’m not asking for much. If I’m going to be stuck here all night, the least you could do is have some fun with me. I won’t tell anyone.”

Syre’s cheeks grew warm with that and blew out a breath. Truthfully, she wanted to kiss him. She liked the thrill of it, and from what she could tell, he wasn’t telling anyone, “One kiss, then I have work to do.”

“For now.” He teased, “We have all night to get to everything making your cheeks so red.”

Her kiss was slow, and being upside down allowed for him to suck her lower lip into his mouth with a whimper. He felt her fingers toy with his hair. Caving to a bit of the temptation she felt for him. As she tried to break the kiss, he followed, lifting his head and hoping to coax her into staying without having to pop his head off to pursue her. She sank back down, but the kiss still broke a moment later. Her nose brushed softly over his.

“More…” He pleaded.

Syre giggled, a quiet, enticing sound dangerously close to sensual, “So greedy you are.”

A wide grin spread over his face as she came back for another kiss. He was trying to figure out how he was going to sweet-talk her into getting on top of him when she broke the kiss and moved to sit on the edge of the table at his side. No prodding before she was leaning over him once more. The little moans he tasted from her as she parted her lips set his blood on fire. He’d been doing so well, but now his pants were growing tight.

A million ways he could lure her into assisting him with his growing need flooded his mind, none of them persuasive. His best came with no words as she gave in to her own desire to be closer. Syre straddled Buggy, feeling his erection against her, “Oh…”

Even through his pants, he could feel her heat. She teased it, whether intentionally so or not, grinding herself along his length. Her breath turned ragged between feverish kisses. Excitement coursed through him with two shy words exhaled into his mouth.

“May I?”

He nodded, his reply thick with need, “Please…”

Anticipation turned her hands clumsy as she reached between them. It was agony waiting to feel her and helpless to assist. Buggy groaned, ending in a chuckle. If Syre hadn’t thought she was worth a beating for her sweet face and tender care, then this was. There was no argument her pretty red stained lips could utter that would dissuade Buggy now. He’d risk level two or lower if he could hear the sugary sweet mewl that escaped her as she eased deliciously down his cock.

He gripped the edge of the table as she allowed herself time to adjust to his size. He wasn’t complaining. He was buried to the hilt, and she squeezed him sinfully. The only thing he could ask for now was to be rid of the straps, keeping him from ripping that uniform apart. It was torture being unable to touch her.

Syre braced herself, firmly pinning his chest to the table. She craved friction, but Buggy was quite formidable. Her hips allowed her to test the waters with slow grinding, arousal warming her from within. She reveled in the full sensation of him bottoming out inside of her. It left her a little delirious. He grew impatient with her slow rolling hips and bucked as far as his binds would allow him. The sudden thrust caught her off guard. The gasp strangled a moan, forming a delightful little squeak. A wide toothy grin twisted his face impishly, and he urged her to bounce to hear her do it again.

Bouncing was torment for Buggy. As soon as she started and the breathless moans of, “Mon Chér” and “Mon Dieu”, whatever that meant, mixed with the occasional squeak he was straining against the straps binding him to the table. Her curls bounced, and what was breathless was beginning to lace with vulgarity. Each new noise driving him more and more feral. The worst were her panicked moans of his name in her accent. They were pleading with him, “Oh Buggy…”

He couldn’t take it.

One of his hands detached and gripped her hip, guiding her rhythm while the other lifted to her face, caressing her jaw and his thumb tracing her lower lip. She leaned into his hand. Lips wrapping his thumb and sucking gently, moans vibrating it with a pleasing hum. Syre had been so lost in the moment that it didn’t strike her as strange at first. Buggy felt the second she noticed. Her eyes flew open, and she expected to see that he’d broken the straps and was sitting up. Instead, she saw him on his back with two disembodied hands. Her eyes went wide, and the hand at her face stifled her scream. She tried to push away, but the other detached hand held her there. Buggy would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way her sex gripped him like a vice.

“Shh shh shh, sweet girl, calm down…” He purred, continuing to buck into her and lead her in their previous pace. She looked down at him in horror, but with each roll of their hips, her eyes got a little lost in the pleasure.

When he was sure she wasn’t going to scream, he relinquished his hold on her mouth. She panted, mixing enchantingly with soft moaning. “You’ve…eaten…”

“Chop chop fruit…” He explained, euphoric now that he was free to touch her.

It dawned on her, “You can… you could…” She moaned, “You could’ve gotten out at any time…”

He chuckled, “But why would I?”

“You hid it?”

He nodded vigorously, “Didn’t want the cuffs or on a lower level.”

“You could’ve told me before this,” She said, a squeak following, “You scared me half to death.”

“Couldn’t have been that scared, you’re still so wet…” He cackled, hands sliding underneath the skirt to grip her thighs hard enough to bruise. He was debating if detaching his tongue to play under her skirt was too much too soon when she gasped and looked toward the door.

Even through her pleasure filled haze, Syre heard the handle to the infirmary door jiggle like an alarm. With a gasp, she hastily dismounted, expecting to feel Buggy pull out of her. Panic welled on two fronts. First, despite her skirt offering her discretion, whomever was coming in would still see... She only had enough time to hear his snickering and see his pants cover where his cock was supposed to be when Domino came in through the door. Realization hit her deep, as deep as the cock still buried between her legs.

#suffering fools #buggy x syre #buggy x oc #female oc x buggy #oc x canon #one piece oc #syre bonne aventure #buggy the clown

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