(Vivi x Crocodile) One Piece: The Princess and the Villain - Season I

21 - THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM

The sun had already risen high in the afternoon sky, its light casting a soft glow through the torn, disheveled curtains that barely clung to their rods. The bedroom was in complete disarray—pillows tossed aside, blankets crumpled on the floor, sheets ripped and tangled in knots from the violent passion that had consumed the space all night. The bed, the walls, even the floor—every surface told the story of their shared frenzy. The air still felt thick with the remnants of their shared desire.

Vivi was the first to stir, her body aching and heavy from exhaustion. Her lashes fluttered as consciousness slowly returned, and with it, the raw sensation of everything that had happened. She groaned softly, her lips dry and swollen, her throat hoarse from the moans and cries that had escaped her the night before. As her vision cleared, she became aware of the state she was in—utterly ruined.

Her hair was a tangled mess, matted against her skin from the sweat and heat of their savage encounters. She reached up to touch her lips and winced as her fingers grazed a raw spot. When she pulled her hand back, she noticed a faint smear of blood. She couldn't even tell whose blood it was—hers or Crocodile's. Not that it mattered. She chuckled softly, the disbelief still settling in as she tried to make sense of it all.

Her body was covered in marks—bruises and love bites running from her neck to her thighs, evidence of his relentless need to claim her, over and over again. Her chest, her stomach, even her legs bore the weight of what they had done. The aching fullness inside her made her grimace, reminding her of how many times he had taken her, filling her so completely that she could still feel traces of him spilling from her. It was everywhere—on her skin, her thighs, the sheets beneath her.

She tried to sit up but immediately collapsed back down, her knees too weak to support her weight. A sharp hiss escaped her as she steadied herself, every muscle in her body trembling from overuse. It took a few attempts, but finally, she managed to stand, though her legs wobbled beneath her as she slowly made her way to the bathroom, each step reminding her of just how brutally Crocodile had taken her.

In the bathroom, Vivi caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused. Her reflection was a sight to behold—disheveled, bruised, and marked in ways she had never been before. Despite the mess, there was a strange satisfaction in seeing it all. She could feel it, a quiet pride buried under the exhaustion. Last night had been a storm, and she had survived it. More than that—she had been wanted in a way she hadn't fully grasped before.

As she cleaned herself, letting the warm water wash away the remnants of their passion, her mind wandered back to Crocodile. How relentless he had been, how each touch, each kiss had become more desperate as the night wore on. He had been on the edge of madness, driven by months of pent-up hunger. No wonder he had collapsed into such a deep sleep.

By the time she returned to the bedroom, feeling somewhat refreshed, she noticed Crocodile was still in bed. He hadn't moved an inch, his body sprawled out on the ruined sheets, his breathing deep and even. Vivi paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of him, and a strange feeling twisted in her chest.

Crocodile looked so different when he was asleep—peaceful, almost vulnerable. His usual sharp, intimidating features seemed softened in the dim afternoon light, the lines of his face more relaxed than she had ever seen them. His brow wasn't furrowed in thought or frustration, and the tension that usually clung to his broad shoulders had melted away. His chest rose and fell steadily with each breath, the powerful muscles shifting under his skin in a way that made him look...almost human. Almost gentle.

Vivi found herself lingering, watching him for longer than she expected. He's... really handsome, she admitted to herself, somewhat begrudgingly. It was easy to forget when he was awake, when his aura of control and domination filled every room he entered. But like this—lying there in the aftermath, without his armor, without the mask of power he wore every day—he was undeniably striking.