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bythenineshards · 19 hours

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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 me begging 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

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