#syre bonne aventure | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bythenineshards · 8 days

Text

Hook and Lace

Welp... Here's the Croc x Syre smut lol

Summary: Croc catches a scantily clad Syre in one of his coats.

Warnings: Rough sex, vaginal penetration, oral, little bit of shame, and exhibitionism, no aftercare in this scene (sorry).

Minors... please dni. This isn't for you.

A/N: So there's some context needed for this scene. I'll try to keep this short. Syre met Croc in Impel Down. She saved his life, and the two of them got...friendly. She also accidentally dropped her last name. Syre's family owns a generations old weapons manufacturing empire. Magellan didn't think it was wise for her to disclose her name to inmates for that reason. During the jailbreak, Croc rescued her from the prisoners and got her to safety (killing a few men in the process). After Marineford, Syre was released from duty in hopes that Bonne-Aventure Arms wouldn't drop their contracts with the World Government. Syre returns home, and life goes on normally for a short time. Crocodile then shows up and gives her a proposition. She marries him, he gets introduced into the society of her island, a partnership with Bonne-Aventure Arms and he doesn't take evidence to the WG that her family were friends and business associates of Gol D Rogers. Syre agrees. Thus begins a time in which Syre is torn between being attracted to him but obligated to hate him for threatening her family.

Syre liked the way she looked in lace. She admired the delicate patterns in white against her skin and the twinkle of a garter belt holding up her stockings. She played with her hair, pulling it up, contemplating in the mirror then letting it bounce around her chin. The maid would be back with her clothes soon. Not soon enough if she was being a little spoiled. Winter had fallen on Bella Violette and left her bedroom chilly this morning. She was about to grab her robe when she noticed something in the mirror.

A monstrous black fur coat was draped over one of her chairs. Syre glowered at it. Ridiculous man. Leaving his belongings all over her room like he owned the place. She had half a mind to burn it to warm up her room more. He must've forgotten it after his visit last night. A huff left her body with a shake of her head. She reached for her robe and was left wanting. It was lovely but too thin. Gerta had better get back soon or she was going to freeze in here.

Her eyes drifted back to the coat.

Stupid man, leaving his things all over my house, she grumbled internally as she padded over to it.

Her fingers ran through the luxurious black fur and her lips formed a soft smile. She lingered there, listening for footsteps to tell her that Gerta was approaching. Crocodile wasn’t home. He had business with her mother that morning and wouldn’t be back for at least a few hours. She bit her lip, well if it was going to be in here, it might as well be useful. Syre was glad she wasn’t in heels. She might’ve toppled right over with the weight of it as she pulled it from the chair and draped herself in it. Heels might’ve kept it from brushing along the floors though. It was comically big for her but she was warm in a matter of seconds under its weight.

If he’s going to leave his things in my room, they belong to me now… Another justification. Syre had gone back to the mirror and swayed a little to make the coat do the same. Her hands stroked the thick fur and pulled it tighter around her. She shrugged the fur closer up and inhaled. It smelled of his cologne, rich, heady and twisted with cigar smoke. It smelled of him. She had no justification for the warm feeling it gave her. A husband should make his wife feel comforted yet sensuous. Crocodile was not her husband. He was a filthy pirate that was blackmailing her family. He made her sick. He was scum and Syre hated him. Who cared that he smelled good and made her come undone so easily?

A dry rumbling chuckle sent warm prickly terror blooming in her chest, “Isn’t that a sight…”

Syre whirled to face the door, catching the coat and pulling it tight around herself. She didn’t want him to see the lacey things underneath and get laughable ideas. Curse this mansion and its well-oiled doors, “Were you raised in a barn? Barging in here like a heathen!” She chastised like a cornered animal.

Her vitriol was met with another chuckle as Crocodile closed the door behind himself. It was a pleasant contrast. Her pink and sugar features and his midnight black fur. The only thing that didn’t please him was the cocktail of fear and disdain in her doe brown eyes. It was a far cry from the sultry look he’d seen in her mirror.

“What do you want?” Syre spat at him, taking a step back as he moved closer.

“I believe that’s my coat,” he replied, “I was going to meet with your mother and came back for it.”

“You left it in my room.” She retorted, clutching the coat tighter.

“My mistake,” He gave her a wicked look, his eyes hungry, "It won't happen again.”

“Good, now begone with you.” She dismissed him with a wave and strode toward her vanity.

“My coat, Syre.”

She stopped, searching for something to say. “I'll have this sent when I am properly dressed. Have a servant fetch one of your others and leave me.”

She continued to the vanity and casually dabbed her wrist with perfume. Crocodile followed, eating up the distance with his long legs. Syre caught sight of him in the mirror and spun to face him. He was closer than she expected. Her startled step backwards jostled everything on the vanity. Her hands grabbed the tabletop for support as he loomed over her. With nothing holding it closed, he was able to glimpse the ensemble. His hook glinted in the faint morning light, coming to move the coat aside so he could get a better look. A satisfied groan eased from him as freely as cigar smoke.

Crocodile drank her in greedily. This coat had never adorned anything more lovely. He never tired of seeing her like this.

“Stop staring, cretin, and leave.” Syre mumbled, avoiding his eyes. She could smell his cologne and it was making her dizzy.

His brows lifted with amusement, the round side of his hook trailing down the center of her belly, “If that is what you desire…”

Syre made no move, said nothing. She trembled with the graze of his hook on her bare skin.

Crocodile leaned in closer, inhaling her subtle perfume, “Sweet girl, if that is what you want, look me in my eyes and say it again.”

Her eyes remained averted but her words were tart, “I want nothing to do with you.”

Quick as a flash, his large hand came to jerk her chin to look at him. A startled squeak rattled through her as his fingers squished her face. Her cheeks were pleasantly pink and her eyes, settling down from the brief shock, held the same guilty need he'd seen time and time again since their wedding. Since Impel Down.

“I see,” A smirk tugged at the smolder on his face as he released her and she looked away again. He seized the opportunity to place a kiss on her neck. A breathy whimper escaped her, making his smirk deepen. He whispered in her ear, “do you know what I think?”

“No. I couldn't care less.” She rolled her eyes.

“I think you've done well in pretending to hate me.”

“I will not have you slander me in my own home.” She snapped.

“Our home, Sweet,” he corrected in a deep purr. He leaned down, his lips barely brushing her neck. “No one's here to see you enjoy me. I won't tattle. So why don't you drop the spiteful hellcat act and be the sweet girl we both know you are. The one that gave me kisses in prison.”

Syre said nothing but her blush was reaching her ears now. After giving her neck one last kiss, he slowly sank down to his knees. Surprise made Syre look at him quizzically, “What are you doing?”

“I'm going to make you miss me. Even if you say you won't.”

Syre bit her lip as he gently pushed on her collarbone, guiding her to sit on the vanity. His hand slid under her thigh, prying it open with little resistance. The lace tore like tissue paper as he dragged his hook down her body. Despite the sharp tip causing no damage to her skin, she still gasped.

“Shhhh, I'll buy you more later.” He said, nuzzling the lace that the top of her stockings with his nose then the pink curls. His breath was hot on her exposed sex. It seemed like she was going to gasp again when his tongue came out to separate her folds with one long stroke. The sound came out breathless, soft and bordering on a mewl. He chuckled in response.

“So defiant yet already so wet…” He taunted, teasing her entrance with a thick finger. She could feel how easily the broad fingertip slipped over her beautifully displayed pussy.

Syre squirmed as his hook came to wrap her thigh but seeing he meant no harm, she relaxed. She watched as Crocodile’s tongue lingered on her aching slit, rolling torturously but never caving to her desire to be stretched around it. A soft sound made his violet eyes immediately meet hers.

Crocodile savored his feast, coaxing out breathy moans as his tongue lapped at her growing arousal. His eyes never left hers. Syre's legs trembled and her hips bucked of their own accord.

“See…” He drawled, pulling away to breathe. A string of saliva and arousal was wiped away as he panted. “Such a good girl… my Sweet Girl, blushing while I lick her cunt…”

Syre's lips parted to bite back that she didn't belong to him. She wanted to rebuke the idea but the heat in her cheeks made her silent. Holding back the desire to taste his name as a moan was challenge enough. Forming a coherent argument to rebuff him was a herculean feat. Especially as he yanked her closer and lavished her neglected clit with slow messy kisses. His fingers gripped her thigh so hard she feared it might bruise. His tongue flicked the small bud, swirling around it in tight circles and sucking on her parted lips. It all left her body warm and fuzzy with pleasure. Sinking her fingers into his hair felt sensitive and unreal, borderline ethereal. She was a delicate doll cast in sugar, poised to dissolve in his mouth.

“Sorry, Doctor Bonne-” Gerta said as she came bustling cheerfully through the door carrying Syre’s clothes for the day. She stopped dead at the picture before her, eyes widening in shock.

“Out. Your Mistress is busy.” Crocodile commanded, his tone leaving no room for questioning. Syre’s cheeks burned knowing that Gerta had seen how exposed and shamefully aroused she was. Part of her didn't care, she wanted to plead for him to keep going. Her fingers hadn’t left Crocodile’s hair. She just met her maid’s eyes, her own weak with desire. Syre's body was taught but her legs were held firmly open. Her eyes looked down at her husband. The indecent man wasn't going to wait for the poor older woman to leave. Returning to his feast leaving Syre to burn more vibrantly with embarrassment and the moans she was withholding.

Gobsmacked, Gerta fumbled with what to do. Decorum warring with the harsh order from the master of the house and the astonishing scene before her. She scurried to lay the clothes down on the chair, wiped her sweaty hands on her apron and went to ask her usual “will there be anything else, Doctor?” then realized how silly that was. Her mouth opened and snapped shut twice like a fish, her eyes seeking refuge on the polished wood floor. The maid then fled the room before she could be ordered to leave again.

“T-The servants gossip…” Syre managed to say.

“Nothing they didn't already know, Darling,” Crocodile retorted, rising from the floor. He practically slithered up her body to kiss her. She accepted the kiss without thinking about it, tasting herself on his tongue.

“See how sweet you are?” He asked, his hand easing the coat from her shoulders.

Syre wasn't particularly fond of being manhandled, or that's what she would say if asked in polite conversation. Crocodile on the other hand, enjoyed it thoroughly. Once the coat rested on the vanity, Croc had her bent over before she could squeak out a protest.

“Wait…what are you-” She began as he unbuckled his belt.

“If you want me to stop, use your words.” He demanded. When nothing came from her, he smirked, “that's what I thought.”

Syre's fingers gripped the fur underneath her. She abruptly sank down with a firm kick to her ankle. It wasn't meant to hurt her, just spread her legs further apart. She felt the blunt tip of his cock wetting itself in her folds. Croc hummed with satisfaction at just how soaked she was.

“Breathe,” he warned, as he lined himself up and pressed inside her heat with a groan. Syre's resolve was breaking as he, inch by glorious inch, stretched her.

Her legs went to jelly the moment he'd felt her relax enough for him to move. His pace was nowhere near as gentle as his initial easing inside. He pulled out slowly at first only to ram back in completely, bottoming out with a startled moan. His large hand running fingertips up then down her back. She didn't have long before the pace of his thrusts became merciless. She whimpered and moaned into the fur, feeling her walls squeeze his cock deliciously. Her shame caused her to melt into the fur and bury her face, amplified by the teasing low chuckle behind her.

"I wish you could feel how greedy your pussy is. Already trying to milk me like a spoiled brat. You can cum on my cock all you want, Princess. But you're going to earn what your cunt is begging me for.”

All Syre could do was whimper and mewl, too lost in the pleasure of being stretched around his cock to care that he was taunting her. Listening to the mingling of her cries and his grunts and deep groans. Every so often he'd utter a, “Good sweet girl.”

She was ripped from her haze when the cold metal of his hook wrapped her neck and yanked her upwards. His massive chest was flush against her back, pinning her to the vanity with hard muscle. Crocodile forced Syre to meet her own gaze in the mirror. His pace never relented as he growled in her ear, "Look at your pretty face. I want you to remember this face every time you say you hate me. Because I damn well will."

He nipped at her ear, her head filled dizzyingly with his panting. Her own breath caught when his free hand left its position steadying the vanity to rub her clit. She didn't even try to prolong her climax. He groaned feeling her come undone, fresh heat and arousal coating his cock with each wave.

“Atta girl…” He chuckled, giving her clit a pat causing a wave of aftershocks to clench him. Her soaked sex reinvigorated his pace.

The various bottles of lotions, perfumes and cosmetics teetered and fell without his support, rolling over the edge and hitting the floor. Those that found the rug were salvageable. Those that hit the bare wood floor met a messier fate. Crocodile’s merciless pace moved Syre's jewelry chest closer and closer to the edge with each thrust. The small cushion lined chest joined the shattered bottles not before erupting on impact, sending necklaces, bracelets and earrings scattered all over her room.

Syre boldly broke eye contact with herself to look at her husband. He was practically cheek to cheek with her, rutting her like a wild beast. Unruly locks of hair had fallen over his face as he kept his rhythm. Sweat was beading at his forehead and dripping down his face. He didn't notice her looking, his eyes were closed, savoring the feel of her weakly squeezing him for his seed. The sight of him was intoxicating and she felt her walls spasm, threatening a second climax. Syre was sure he felt it too, a smirk came before a growl as he nuzzled her face affectionately, "Again? So soon?”

Syre didn't have the wherewithal to answer. Instead she returned his lust drunk tenderness with some of her own in the form of a soft kiss to his cheek amid her breathless moans.

Her second release was more subdued. A pathetically weak plea for him to join her. She wasn't sure he'd accept the offer with how pitiful her offering was. His name drifted from her lips accompanying her begging.

“Please Crocodile… I need it… please fill me…”

His hand returned to her drenched sex to persuade her to give him a third, “I'm so close… just one more Princess and I'll give you what you want.”

Syre whimpered that she couldn't. He called her bluff with sinful circles at the apex of her thighs. Helplessly, she submitted to the pleasure and let it build. She was in a daze as the third orgasm had her trying to escape him. He yanked her back with a groan. Crocodile held her in place as she felt him pulse inside her. His body was tense above her, his hand bruising her hip as it kept her still. They stayed like that for a while after he finished. Syre was too weak and shaky to move leaving Croc to kiss her jaw and cheek, whispering to her.

“Good girl…”

Her neck felt bare without his hook around it. As he withdrew from her all of her was suddenly cold and lonely. Syre's legs trembled, his hot seed spilling out of her, the only thing keeping her on her feet was the vanity underneath her and that shook almost as much as she did. Her hooded eyes watched through the shaky mirror as Crocodile buckled his belt and smoothed his hair back into place. She made a slow turn, trying to straighten and face him, grasping the tabletop for dear life. Noticing her staring wide eyed, he sauntered over, glass crunching under his shoes, and took her chin in his thumb and index finger. His thumb grazed her bottom lip. He leaned down and gave her a quick yet mocking kiss.

“I'll tell your mother you say hello,” he said with a smug grin before departing her room without the coat he'd come for.

#syre bonne aventure #one piece oc #oc x canon #syre x crocodile #crocodile x oc #smut #Hook and Lace #Bonne-Aventure Syre #op sir crocodile #sir crocodile

15 notes · View notes

bythenineshards · 6 months

Text

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

39 notes · View notes

bythenineshards · 6 months

Text

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

29 notes · View notes

bythenineshards · 3 months

Text

My friend @onyxopossum got me this! Look at it! Look at them! They're so perfect! My heart!

Ahhhhhhhhhh!

Art was done by EriahChan on Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/EriahChan?mibextid=ZbWKwL

#syre bonne aventure #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #oc x canon #one piece oc #sweet blorbo #corazon one piece #cora san #corazon x syre

18 notes · View notes

bythenineshards · 6 months

Text

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

21 notes · View notes

bythenineshards · 2 months

Text

Do you know how frustrating it is to find pose references for a pairing with this height difference?

#all the bandages #syre x corazon #syre x rosinante #syre bonne aventure #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #one piece oc #oc x corazon #oc x canon #rosinante x oc

12 notes · View notes

bythenineshards · 28 days

Text

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

19 notes · View notes

bythenineshards · 5 months

Text

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

15 notes · View notes