Hongo is the Red Hair Piratesâ calm, disciplined doctorâuntil you start calling him âdoctor.â What begins as playful teasing quickly turns into a night of unbearable tension, interrupted kisses, and a very frustrated Hongo.
With the crew constantly getting in the way, Hongo finally decides itâs time for revenge. But behind closed doors, the teasing gives way to something deeper: love, passion, and a confession neither of you can take back.
the Red force was louder than usual that night
music carried across the deck,mixing with the sound of laughter and clinking bottles.Someone had started a drinking game nearthe main table,while others argued over who had cheated in the last round,but inside the infirmary,the only sound was soft scrape of cloth against metal. A single lamp burned on th table, casting a warm, golden glow ove Hongo as he carefully cleaned his tools.
his movements were slow and steady,almost too steady.
you stepped into the room without saying a word.
Hongo glanced up. His eyes immediately fell on your arm. Blood had soaked through your sleeve, trailling down towards your hand,the cut was deep,and judging by the look on his face, he knew it needed more than a simple bandage.
"sit down" he said quietly
You smiled "okay...Doctor"
the word slipped out so softly,like it always did.
Hongo froze. for a moment, evrerything seemed to stop
the cloth slipped from his fingers and fell onto the table.
His breath caught somewhere deep in his throat , and his his dark eyes locked onto yours.Something has changed in them- something you couldn´t quit name.
You only meant it as a joke, but the way he looked at you made the room suddenly feel much smaller.The air between you gre thick and heavy.
Hongo swallowed, his gaze lingerd on you as thought he had forgotten about the wound entirely.A strange warmth settled low in his stomache, sharp enough to make him uncomfortable.
He looked away half a second, trying to regain his compusure.
Then his eyes returned to yours.Neither of you spoke.
The ship continued to sway gently beneath your feet,but somehow, the entire room felt different now.
As if one simple word had quietly changed everything.
Hongo didn´t answer right away.Instead ,he set the cloth aside and stepped closer. the space between you disapeared almost before you realized it.His expression has changed , the calm professionalism he´d worn all evening was beginning to crack.
His eyes flickered toward your injured arm before returning to your face.
"you really shouldn´t tease me like that " he murmured.
there was something different in his voice now-lower,rougher, but controlled.
You raised an eyebrow "why not, Doctor?"
for a moment, he simply stared at you,as tought trying to decide whether you were serious.
Then he leand closer,stopping just short of touching you.
"you know exactly what you´re doing" He smiled.
You could feel the warmth of him in the smal space between you.The scent of sea salt and iron clung faintly to his clothbes, mixed with the clean smell of medical supplies surrounding you.
Hongo glanced down at your wound again.
"you came in here bleeding," he said, his voice steadier now."and somehow you´re more intrested in getting a reaqction out of me than getting yourself treated."
A small smile tugged at your lips.
"Maybe i already got the reaction i wanted"
For the first time, Hongo looked genuinely flustered.
He exhaled slowly and stepped back just enough to give you room.
You laughed softly "yes.Doctor."
He shook his head,thought you chaught the faintest hint of smile.
"keep saying that"he muttered, reaching for the bandages "and your going to make it very difficult for me "
The quiet of the medical bay feels like a trap. Hongo is trying to focus, but your voice is ruining his concentration. He picks up a clean bandage, his knuckles white as he grips the fabric.
"Keep still, doll " he mutters, his voice a little rougher than usual. "I need to clean the edge."
You look up at him, leaning forward just enough to narrow the space between you. "Whatever you say, doctor."
Hongo freezes. The cotton swab in his hand hovers a millimeter above your skin. His jaw tightens so hard a muscle twitches in his cheek. He slowly lowers his hand, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, dangerous intensity. He doesn't say a word for a long three seconds. The only sound is the rhythmic creaking of the ship's timbers.
Hongo leans in, his chest nearly brushing your shoulder. "You're doing that on purpose," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.The
You tilt your head, completely innocent.
"Doing what, doctor? I'm just being a good patient."
His hand moves from your injury to your uninjured shoulder. He doesn't hurt you, but his grip is firm, heavy, and grounding.
He steps between your knees, trapping you against the examination table. He is so close you can count the eyelashes around his dark, focused eyes.
"You think it's a game," he speaks into the space between your lips, his voice dropping an octave. "You think because we're at sea, I have to keep my composure."
You lean up, your lips almost brushing his jawline.
"I know you're the boss in here... doctor."
Hongo lets out a low, ragged growl. The professional facade shatters completely. His hand slides from your shoulder up to the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair to tilt your head back. His eyes are dark, completely consumed by the word, and all warnings are officially over.
Hongoâs fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to expose the line of your throat. His breath hits your skin, hot and uneven. He is a second away from pressing his lips to yours, completely done with your games.
Heavy, chaotic footsteps sprint down the wooden corridor. The sudden noise shatters the heavy silence of the medical bay.
Lucky Rouxâs loud, boisterous voice booms through the door before it even swings open.
Hongo pulls back instantly. His hand drops from your neck. He steps a foot away, turning his back to the entrance.
He grabs a bottle of antiseptic with a speed that defies his large frame. His hands are slightly shaking as he forces his posture to look neutral.:
Roux bursts into the room, holding a half-eaten meat chunk, totally oblivious to the thick, suffocating tension he just walked into.
"Yasopp managed to cut his finger open showing off with his knife again," Roux laughs, wiping his mouth. "He's whining like a kid.":
Hongo does not turn around immediately. He closes his eyes. He takes one deep, ragged breath to force the dark, hungry look out of his expression.
"Tell him to wait," Hongo says.
His voice is dangerously calm, but there is an underlying edge that makes Roux blink in surprise.
Roux shrugs, sensing the foul mood but not the cause.
"Alright, alright. Don't take off my head. Just get out there when you're done." He leaves, slamming the door shut behind him.
The room falls silent again. Hongo slowly turns back around to face you. He walks back to the table, leaning over you with his hands planted on either side of your thighs, trapping you again.
"He bought you five minutes," he whispers, his eyes burning.
"Do not say that word out there."
You slip out from under his gaze before the five minutes are even up, offering a playful wink that leaves Hongo staring at the closed door, his knuckles white against the wood.
When you step out onto deck again, the Red Hair Pirates are in full swing. Music is playing, drinks are flowing, and Yasopp is loudly exaggerating his finger injury to anyone who will listen. You blend into the crowd, but you keep your eyes on the medical bay door.
When Hongo finally emerges, his professional mask is firmly back in place. He looks calm, steady, and completely in control. But you know better. You can see the slight stiffness in his shoulders and the way his dark eyes immediately scan the deck until they lock onto you.
You walk right into the center of the action, sitting down on a crate next to Benn Beckman and Shanks, well within Hongo's line of sight.
Hongo walks past to check on Yasopp's hand. As he passes your crate, you lean back, raise your voice just enough to carry over the wind, and say, "Be careful with him, doctor. He's had a very traumatic day."
Hongo misses a step. His boot scuffs against the deck. He doesn't look at you, but the vein in his neck visibly throbs. Shanks laughs, completely missing the subtext.
You stay surrounded by the loudest crew members. You know Hongo can't do a thing to you with forty men watching.
Every time Hongo looks up, you are looking right back. You take a slow sip of your drink, your eyes heavy and mocking over the rim of your cup.
Later, Hongo has to hand a crate of supplies to Roux right next to you. You intentionally lean in, brushing your shoulder against his arm. "Need some help with that, doctor?" you purr, almost entirely under your breath.
Hongo stops dead in his tracks. The air around him practically sizzles with heat. Roux notices the sudden freeze and asks him if he's alright.
Before Hongo can answer or react, you give him a sweet, innocent smile. You stand up from your crate, stretch lazily, and announce to the group that you are heading down to the quiet lower decks to rest.
You look directly into Hongo's burning eyes, hold his gaze for three agonizing seconds, and whisper, "Goodnight, doctor."You turn on your heel and walk away, your hips swaying just enough to ensure he watches every single step.
Behind you, you hear the heavy, definitive thud of Hongo dropping the supply crate right back onto the deck.
The lower decks are dim and quiet, a stark contrast to the loud party roaring above. You walk slowly through the narrow corridor, hearing the faint, heavy thud of boots following a short distance behind. Hongo isn't rushing, but he isn't letting you get away either.
You turn into a secluded cargo nook, backing against a stack of crates. A second later, his tall silhouette blocks the dim light of the hallway. He steps into the space, his broad chest rising and falling with a heavy, controlled breath. He thinks he has you trapped.
You don't retreat. Instead, you step closer, resting your palms against his jacket. You move your hands across his chest, continuing the "doctor" game by checking his heartbeat, which is steady and strong under your touch.
You look up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "It seems the doctor is quite focused today," you say quietly.
Hongo leans in, attempting to catch your attention with a more serious look, but you quickly step to the side, maintaining the distance of your game. You let out a light laugh, enjoying the challenge of the chase.
You try to sidestep him to find a new path through the cargo nook, keeping the energy light and energetic.
Hongo is quick, however. He reaches out, his hands finding your waist to steady you and stop your exit.
With a quick movement, he guides you so that you are standing in front of him, your back toward his chest. He holds you there, effectively ending the game of cat-and-mouse for the moment.
You stop moving, leaning back slightly against his steady frame. The air in the quiet nook is still as you both catch your breath.The
He keeps his arms loosely but securely around you, preventing another escape.
i The silence of the lower decks surrounds you both. Hongo leans closer, his presence a constant weight behind you. "The game seems to have reached a stopping point," he murmurs, his voice low in the quiet space.
The heavy warmth of Hongoâs chest against your back vanishes as he slowly turns you around in his arms. His grip on your waist is unyielding now, his dark eyes fixed entirely on your lips.
He leans down, his breath hitching as he finally goes in to claim the kiss youâve been denying him all night.
The heavy wooden door to the cargo nook flies open with a violent crash. A completely boisterous, heavily intoxicated Lucky Roux stumbles into the dim space, holding a fresh jug of ale in one hand.
Roux doesn't even notice the suffocating tension. He lunges forward, grabs your wrist with a loud laugh, and yanks you out of Hongoâs embrace.
"Everyone's looking for you! You can't hide down here, we need more dancers on deck!"
Hongo is left standing in the shadows, his arms literally frozen in mid-air where he was just holding you. The sheer look of unadulterated, murderous frustration on his face is a work of art.
Roux begins dragging you backward down the hallway, stumbling over his own boots but pulling you along with enthusiastic, drunken strength.
Instead of fighting Roux's grip, you look back over your shoulder, letting yourself be swept away into the dim light of the corridor.
You lock eyes with Hongoâwho is now stepping out of the nook, his jaw clenched so tight it looks ready to shatter. You slow down just enough to catch his gaze and deliberately wink at him.
You flash a brilliant, teasing smile and call out over Roux's loud laughter,
"Duty calls! Don't look so sourâa good doctor always knows when to let the patient get some exercise."
Hongo stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the hallway. His fists clench so hard at his sides that his knuckles turn completely white, his dark eyes promising absolute ruin the next time he gets you alone.
Up on deck, the party is a chaotic roar of music, clinking mugs, and roaring laughter. Roux pulls you right into the center of the bonfire's glow, spinning you around in a clumsy, enthusiastic dance. You play right along, laughing as you spin, but your eyes immediately find Hongo.
He is leaning against the ship's railing a few yards away, a mug of ale tight in his fist, his dark eyes tracking your every single move like a hawk.
He looks absolutely miserable, radiating a heavy, irritated heat. And the crew notice instantly.
Yasopp and Limejuice swap a look, nudging each other as they watch Hongoâs death glare.
"Look at him," Yasopp cackles.
"Our good doctor looks like he swallowed a barrel of lemons!"
Howling Gab and Bonk Punch join in, letting out loud, mocking howls.
"What's the matter, Hongo? Too old to join the dance?" Bonk Punch shouts, clapping a massive hand on Hongo's tense shoulder.
Behind them, Beckmann catches your eye, a knowing, amused smirk playing on his lips as he takes a drag from his cigarette.
He gives Shanks a sharp nod, signaling that the game is officially afoot.
Before Hongo can snap at them, Yasopp and Limejuice grab his shoulders from behind.
With a coordinated, drunken heave, they shove Hongo straight into the center of the dancing circle. Hongo stumbles forward, his large frame colliding right into you.
Roux stumbles back with a laugh, leaving you trapped directly against Hongoâs broad chest once again.
Hongoâs hands instantly find your waist to steady you. His breath is hot against your face, his eyes dark, intense, and completely done with the crew's interference. He leans down, his lips a millimeter from yours, determined to finally take his kiss right here in front of everyone.
Just as your lips are about to touch, a Black-cloaked arm swoops in out of nowhere. Shanks wraps his arm around your waist and yanks you completely out of Hongoâs grip.
Shanks spins you into a dramatic, theatrical dance move, throwing his head back and laughing right in Hongo's face.
"Too slow, doctor! You gotta be quicker than that to dance with the prettiest patient on the ship!"
Hongo stands frozen in the middle of the roaring circle. His jaw clenches so hard a vein throbs violently in his forehead. He glares at his laughing captain with an expression that promises a very painful medical checkup tomorrow.Through it all, you look over Shanks's shoulder, giving Hongo another slow, devastating smile.
The morning sun rises over the Grand Line, but the Red Force feels less like a pirate ship and more like a floating graveyard. The deck is completely silent, save for the occasional groan of a hungover pirate.
At the center of it all stands Hongo. He holds a steel clipboard. His expression is completely blank, cold, and professional. But beneath that icy exterior, his dark eyes gleam with a dangerous, vengeful satisfaction. He has designed a specific, agonizing punishment for every single man involved in last night's antics, and he intends to enjoy every single second of their misery.
Hongo taps his pen against the clipboard. "Yasopp. Limejuice. Medical bay. Now."
The two instigators stumble into the clinic, clutching their pounding heads. Hongo doesn't say a word. He rolls up his sleeves and pulls out the thickest, dullest needles in his inventory for their routine booster shots.
"Hey, Hongo, man, isn't that a bit big?" Yasopp whines, his eyes widening.
Hongo looks him dead in the eye, deliberately pushes the numbing agent to the back of the shelf, and drives the needle home. A second later, a loud, agonizing yelp echoes across the sea, waking up the entire ship. Limejuice tries to bolt for the door, but Hongo catches him by the collar, offering a cold, terrifying smile as he preps the next syringe.
By mid-morning, Hongo takes his wrath to the main deck. He corners Bonk Punch and Howling Gab near the mast.
"Digestive purification," Hongo announces flatly, slamming two massive wooden mugs onto a barrel.
Inside is a thick, bubbling charcoal tonic that looks and smells like rotten seaweed mixed with liquid ash. Howling Gab takes one sniff and gags.
"Drink. Every drop," Hongo orders. He stands over them, crossing his arms, his unblinking glare boring into them. The two massive pirates choke and cough, tears pricking their eyes as they force the foul sludge down their throats, utterly terrified of what the doctor will do if they stop.
Next is Lucky Roux. Hongo marches straight into the galley and slaps a heavy iron padlock onto the medical freezer, where Roux keeps his emergency rations.
"Mandatory cholesterol detox," Hongo tells the horrified cook. "No meat for forty-eight hours."
Roux drops to his knees, clutching his empty, growling stomach, weeping openly as Hongo walks past him without a single shred of pity.
Right outside, Benn Beckman is leaning against the railing, enjoying a quiet smoke and thinking he safely escaped the chaos. Hongo walks right up to him, snatches the unlit cigarette straight out of Beckman's mouth, and tosses it into the ocean.
"Smoking is a safety hazard for the ship's ventilation," Hongo says calmly, holding up a sack containing Beckman's entire private stash of high-grade tobacco, which he just raided from his cabin. Beckman stares at the empty sea, looking completely hollowed out.
Finally, Hongo stalks toward the captain's quarters. He doesn't knock. He bursts inside and slams a heavy metal surgical tray right next to Shanksâs throbbing, hungover head.
Shanks screams, diving under his blankets. Hongo rips them away. "Acute liver fatigue," Hongo barks, tossing a week-long alcohol ban notice onto his face. Shanks begs on his knees, crying and gripping Hongo's boots, but the doctor simply kicks his hands away and leaves him
As the afternoon wears on, the Red Force feels less like a pirate ship and more like a floating prison camp. The deck is filled with the sounds of Yasopp groaning, Rouxâs stomach loudly growling, and Shanks weeping over his empty sake cups.
Then, the crew notices you.
You are sitting comfortably on a crate in the shade, completely untouched, unbothered, and sipping on a fresh, cold drink. The realization hits the crew like a cannonball.
Yasopp stumbles out of the medical bay, rubbing his sore arm. He stops dead, pointing a trembling finger at you.
"Wait a minute... why are you just sitting there?! You were the one dancing with Roux! You were the one mocking him!"
Limejuice, still pale from his shot, storms over. "Yeah! She called him doctor like five times right to his face! Why aren't you drinking the ash-sludge?!"
Shanks pokes his head out of his quarters, his eyes bloodshot. "Itâs a mutiny!" he wails, pointing at you.
"Hongo is playing favorites! This is a clear abuse of medical authority!"
Within minutes, a small, miserable crowd of terrifyingly strong pirates has surrounded your crate, crossing their arms and demanding justice. They are absolutely furious that you managed to escape the doctor's wrath completely scot-free.
The crew's complaints grow louder by the second.
âShe called him doctor!â
âShe got to dance all night while weâre drinking charcoal!â
Shanks points dramatically from the doorway of his cabin. âI demand justice!â
Hongo stands silently in the middle of the deck, clipboard tucked beneath one arm.
His eyes move from the miserable crew...
You take another casual sip of your drink. Hongo's expression doesn't change.
âFine.â The entire deck goes quiet.
He turns toward you. âYou want to know why you're not being punished?â
You blink innocently. âI was wondering.â
Hongo walks toward you. Slowly.
The crew watches with growing interest. When he reaches your crate, he stops directly in front of you.
âBecause your punishment is different.â
Your eyebrows rise. âDifferent how?â
Hongo reaches down and takes your drink from your hand. âYou're spending the rest of the day with me.â
âThat isn't a punishment!â
Shanks practically falls out of his doorway. âYou can't do that, Hongo!â
Hongo doesn't even look at him. âMedical orders.â
âYou're abusing your position!â
He turns back to you and holds out his hand. âCome on.â
You stare at his hand for a moment before taking it.
The crew watches in stunned silence as Hongo leads you toward the medical bay.
Just before you disappear below deck, you glance over your shoulder. âTry not to miss me.â
Yasopp groans. âWe're the ones being punished!â
The brass lock on the cabin door clicks into place, sealing the room in a heavy, charged silence. Hongo turns around, his dark eyes instantly locking onto you. The stoic, professional mask he wore on deck is completely gone, replaced by a raw, hungry focus.
He crosses the room in three long, deliberate strides. Before you can even utter a teasing remark, his large, calloused hands find your waist. He pulls you forward, completely eliminating the space between you as his mouth crashes down onto yours.
The kiss is deep, fierce, and demanding. His tongue slides past your lips with an urgency that leaves you completely breathless, claiming your mouth as if it belongs entirely to him.
You wrap your arms tightly around his neck, pulling his broad shoulders closer.
A quiet gasp escapes your throat into the kiss, and Hongo lets out a low, rough growl of pure satisfaction, his grip tightening on your hips.
He presses his lower body flush against yours, backing you up until the edge of his heavy wooden desk hits your thighs.
Without breaking the kiss, Hongo moves with effortless strength. He sinks down into the large leather chair behind him and yanks you right along with him, pulling you directly onto his lap.
You find yourself straddling his thighs, completely enveloping him. His large hands slide down to the undersides of your legs, lifting you up slightly so you are pressed perfectly against his burning heat.
His arms wrap securely around your lower back, anchoring you to his chest. You can feel the rapid, heavy thud of his heart hammering against your own ribs.
Hongo pulls his mouth away for a fraction of a second, both of you panting for air, your lips glistening in the dim lamplight. His lips drop to your jawline, biting softly at the sensitive skin right beneath your ear.
You tilt your head back with a soft sigh,Hongo groans against your skin, his hands sliding up your sides, his thumbs tracing the curve of your ribs. He pulls back just enough to look straight into your dazed, heavy-lidded eyes.
His voice is a rough, breathless baritone as he murmurs against your lips, "Go ahead. Say it now."You lean down, your lips brushing right against his as you whisper, "Make me, doctor."
Hongo lets out a dark, low chuckle that vibrates straight through your chest. His restraint shatters completely, and he buries his face back into your neck, his hands tightening possessively on your waist as the room fades away into pure, unadulterated heat.
. His restraint doesn't just crackâit shatters completely.
He shifts his weight in the leather chair, his large, calloused hands sliding down from your waist to grip your thighs. With a sudden burst of effortless strength, he lifts you slightly and adjusts your position, pressing you down hard against his lap. The friction is immediate, heavy, and hot, sending a sharp jolt of electricity straight through your core. You let out a breathless gasp, your fingers digging sharply into the thick muscle of his shoulders.
His fingers dig deep into the soft skin of your thighs, anchoring you in place. He makes sure you can feel every single inch of the rigid, throbbing heat coiled beneath him.
His mouth smashes back down onto yours, harder and deeper than before. It is no longer just a kiss; it is an interrogation. His tongue sweeps into your mouth with a wild, commanding rhythm that completely consumes you.
A low, needy groan tears from the back of Hongoâs throat. He drinks the soft, helpless sounds you make, his chest heaving violently against your chest as the pace turns frantic.
You arch your back, completely yielding to his weight. Your hands fly to his shirt, desperately tugging at the remaining buttons. Fabric rips slightly in the quiet room as you push the linen off his broad shoulders, needing skin-on-skin contact.
Hongo tears his mouth away from yours, his breathing ragged and dangerously uneven. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth biting down on the sensitive junction of your shoulder, marking you as his in the dark.
His hips hitch upward instinctively, a subconscious grind that aligns perfectly with your core. A desperate, heavy sigh escapes your lips, your head falling back as the sheer intensity of his large body pinning you down leaves you completely dazed.
Hongo lets out a low, animalistic growl. He enjoys the defiance, his restraint shattering into a thousand pieces as his mouth crashes down onto yours in a fierce, deeply possessive, and hungry kiss.
Hongoâs teeth sank into the soft curve of your shoulder, leaving a blooming mark. He tore his mouth away, his eyes dark with a hunger that bordered on feral.
you arched her back, your fingers digging into the muscles of his chest. "And here I thought you enjoyed the challenge, Doctor."
"I enjoy the reward more."
He reached down, his calloused hand hooking into the waistband of your trousers and yanking them down with a single, violent motion. He didn't stop there, stripping your underwear away until you sat bare against the rough fabric of his trousers. The contrast of the coarse material against your aching center made you whimper.
Hongo groaned, his hand sliding between your thighs. His fingers found your drenched, the slick heat of your pussy coating his skin. He slid two fingers deep inside you with a wet, squelching sound.
"Look at you," he murmured, his thumb grinding relentlessly against your clit. "Absolutely dripping for me."
"Please," you gasped, head falling back. "Doctor, now."
"Not yet. I want you desperate."
He withdrew his fingers and stood, lifting you effortlessly. He kicked his own trousers away, freeing his cock. It sprang out, thick and rigid, the head glistening with a bead of pre-cum. He sat back in the leather chair and guided you down.
you lowered yourself slowly, your wet lips stretching to accommodate the massive girth. A loud, air-pushing pop echoed through the quiet cabin as Hongo buried himself deep, bottoming out against your cervix. You cried out, your voice echoing off the wooden walls.
"God, you're tight," Hongo hissed, his hips bucking upward to seat himself fully.
"You're... too big," you panted, though you clamped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
He began to move, his thrusts heavy and deliberate. Each plunge created a rhythmic, shlicking sound as his cock slid through the abundance of your cream. The leather chair creaked under their combined weight, the sound mixing with the wet slap of his balls hitting your perineum.
"Do you feel that?" he groaned, his pace quickening. "How much I've wanted this doll?"
"Yes... yes, please, don't stop!"
Hongo's control snapped. He gripped your hips, his fingers bruising your skin, and began to hammer into you with raw, unbridled force. The friction turned into a searing heat. His cock slipped out nearly to the tip before slamming back in, the force sending a jolt of electricity through your core.
"I'm close," you sobbed, her internal muscles pulsing around him.
"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice a guttural roar. "Right now."
You screamed as her orgasm crashed over you,your walls clamping tight. The sensation triggered him; Hongo let out a low, animalistic growl and thrust one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he erupted. He filled you with thick, hot jets of seed, his entire body shuddering against yours.
They collapsed together, panting, the only sound the ticking of the clock and the slow drip of fluids onto the leather.
"Stay right there," Hongo whispered, kissing your forehead. "Don't move an inch."
Hongo let out a long, shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as both of your heartbeats slowly synced. He eventually shifted, lifting you gently to carry you toward the washbasin in the corner of the cabin.
With a methodical tenderness that contrasted his previous ferocity, he dampened a cloth with warm water. Hongo cleaned you carefully.
"You're shaking," he murmured, his voice returning to its usual calm, though it remained thick with affection.
"I'm just... coming down from that," you whispered, leaning Your head against his shoulder.
Hongo set the cloth aside and pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around you as if he feared you might vanish. He pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head.
"I love you," he murmured, the confession sounding heavy and honest in the quiet room. "More than I probably know how to handle."
you pulled back just enough to look into his dark eyes, a small, genuine smile on your lips. "I love you too, Hongo."
The dim lamplight flickered as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the cabin into a deep, velvet shadow. Hongo guided you to the bed, pulling the heavy quilts over their tangled limbs. For a long time,both of you simply lay there in the dark, the only sound the rhythmic of their hearts and the distant creak of the ship's hull.
As sleep began to pull at your consciousness, you felt a surge of playful mischief. You shifted your hips, sliding your body upward and grinding your core firmly against his thigh.
"Hey... Doctor," You breathed into his ear, voice a teasing lilt.
Hongo stiffened instantly. A low, warning groan escaped his throat and his hand shot out, gripping your waist with a sudden, bruising firmness. He clamped you in place, pinning you against the mattress so youcouldn't move an inch.
"Don't," he rasped, his voice a dangerous, sleep-heavy rumble. "I am exhausted, and if you start this again, neither of us is getting any sleep until tomorrow afternoon."
You let out a soft, melodic giggle, feeling the heat of his palm through your skin.
"Fine, fine," you whispered, relaxing into his hold.
"Good," Hongo muttered, his grip softening but not letting go, anchoring you securely against his chest. "Now go to sleep."
He pulled your head under his chin, and within minutes, the silence of the cabin was filled with the steady, synchronized rhythm of your breathing.
The next morning, you and Hongo emerge from his cabin to a silent hallway before entering a chaotic, jealous galley, where Shanks and the crew react to your presence. Hongo confidently shrugs off the crew's playful accusations of using his medical authority for personal time, leaving everyone in a state of amused defeat while you share a knowing, smug smile with the doctor.
Behind him, Beckman lets out a loud, booming laugh, shaking his head as he watches the rest of the crew dissolve into pure, jealous chaos. You catch Hongoâs eye over the rim of your mug, offering him a tired but incredibly sassy smile, knowing the doctor's orders were worth every single second.
The galley is in absolute, roaring chaos. Shanks is practically throwing a tantrum on his bench, loudly mourning the fact that he was banned from alcohol while his chief medic spent the night in pure bliss. Yasopp and Limejuice are shouting about a "medical conspiracy," and Lucky Roux looks like heâs about to faint from the sheer injustice of his empty stomach.
Hongo stands completely unbothered by the noise. He takes another calm, slow sip of his coffee, his broad shoulders relaxed as he watches his crew completely fall apart in a wave of hilarious defeat. They have been thoroughly bested by the doctor, and there is absolutely nothing they can do about it.
Shanks buries his face in his arms on the table. "Iâm the captain," he groans miserably. "I shouldn't be the only one suffering on this ship. This is a dictatorship."
Beckman leans back in his chair, completely empty-handed without his tobacco, but enjoying the entertainment anyway. "Give it up, Captain," Beckman chuckles. "The doctor always wins. You should know that by now."
Hongo glances at the clock on the galley wall. "Roux, you still have thirty-six hours left on your detox. Shanks, six days. If I hear another word of complaint, Iâll double it."
The entire room goes instantly quiet. Shanks shuts his mouth tight, and Roux buries his face in his hands. The defeat is absolute.
You stand right beside Hongo, leaning against the counter. Your body is still thoroughly exhausted from the "treatment" he gave you last night, but seeing him look so smug and entirely in control brings the playful spark right back into your eyes. You decide he shouldn't get to be too comfortable.
The crew is watching the two of you closely, trying to figure out how you survived a night locked in the territory of the shipâs most terrifying man.
You take a step closer to Hongo, intentionally entering his personal space. You lift your coffee mug, taking a slow sip while holding his dark eyes.
With your free hand, you reach out.
Your fingers slowly trace down the fabric, brushing lightly against the top button of his shirtâright where his chest is still warm.
You lean in just enough so that your voice carries over the quiet galley, giving him a sweet, incredibly innocent smile
. "You really are a miracle worker. My behavior is completely corrected... doctor."
The word echoes softly through the silent room.
Hongo misses a breath. The smug, satisfied smirk vanishes from his face instantly, replaced by a sudden, intense heat that floods his dark eyes.
His knuckles turn completely white as his grip tightens around his coffee mug, his jaw clenching so hard you can hear the faint click of his teeth.
The entire crew blinks, looking between the two of you, completely missing the secret meaning behind the title but sensing the sudden, dangerous shift in the air.
Hongo lowers his mug and looks down at you, his voice dropping to a rough, low growl that makes your pulse spike all over again.
"Get to the clinic," he murmurs, his eyes promising absolute ruin. "You're due for a follow-up exam."
You let out a soft laugh, turning on your heel to head out of the galley with a victorious sway in your step, leaving the good doctor completely breathless and counting down the hours until midnight.
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