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Nami would like to state, for the record, that she is nothing like Sanji.
First and foremost, there are women who actually want to sleep with her. She likes to think that a large part of this is due to the fact that she, unlike Sanji, is able to keep any attraction she may feel politely to herself unless that attraction is actually wanted.
She’s also much cuter, but that goes without saying.
If someone were to make an argument that she has anything in common with Sanji besides the incidental nature of their being on the same crew though –which, for the record, she does not– Nami might have to concede that the two years of celibacy is a rather unfortunate coincidence. She is immensely grateful for the shelter and training she received in Weatheria, of course; but the fact is that the sky island is populated solely by old men, and the only thing about old men that even remotely sparks Nami’s interest is their wallets.
Thankfully, she’s back with her friends now. Exploring the New World side by side as they all chase their dreams together is everything Nami could ask for and more. After all the chaos of their reunion and subsequent liberation of Fishman Island though, emotionally fraught as the experience was for her, she’s glad to have a moment to breathe and take some time to herself on shore leave.
The woman who invites Nami back to her place is classically beautiful. Much like the sleepy little nowhere of an island that they’re currently visiting, Nami doesn’t know her name and doesn’t really care to. She’s got the sort of ageless quality about her that could mean she could be anywhere from thirty to fifty; and her dark hair, bright eyes, and wicked smile as she curls a strand of Nami’s hair around her finger and calls her pretty over the drink she buys her is enough to convince her to take her up on her offer of a partner for the night. She’s poised and confident, and Nami likes that.
She’s also very willing to take charge, and Nami likes that even more.
It’s not necessarily the pain itself that she enjoys, although she can’t deny it’s an important aspect of how these things usually go. What Nami likes best about being with women and letting them boss her around is the relief of finally being forced to relinquish the iron control she likes to keep on everyone and everything around her, knowing that she won’t come to actual harm. She likes being helpful. She likes clear instructions and predictable consequences. Most of all, she likes being told that she’s done well and being rewarded for it.
She likes being held and feeling cared for, and it’s been so, so long since she’s felt that.
Nami is not like Sanji, who seemingly made it his life’s goal to have a woman in every port. She does occasionally find a stranger like this though, who is willing to temporarily shoulder her burdens for a little while because Nami is both pretty and an excellent liar. It’s a shameful indulgence that she’s never quite been able to deny herself. The secret that Nami has kept since she was a gawky sixteen year old in the East Blue, crumbling under the weight of Arlong’s demands and the lives of an entire island and wanting nothing more than for everything to stop for just one night and discovering peace for the first time under a pretty girl’s hands, is that she’s greedy. Nami likes money and tangerines. She likes cartography, meteorology, pretty things, pretty women, the ocean, and her friends. Before she dies, she wants to draw a map of the entire world. She wants to see and experience everything, and to claim it for herself with her pen and hands. She wants to peel the world open like a fruit and plunder the sweet riches inside until her hands and face are sticky with it, and Nami knows that she won’t be satisfied even then. She wants and wants and wants.
In her heart of hearts, Nami knows that she wants too much: that she’s too much. She’s been this way for as long as she can remember, even when she was just a tiny child chafing against poverty and the shoreline of an island that seemed to grow smaller and smaller with each passing year. The voracious beast inside her was quieter before Arlong educated her on the true price of not having enough, but it’s always been a part of her and has been clawing at the inside of her ribcage and howling for more ever since. Strangers are the safest choice for Nami to let herself be so hungry with because she’s gone by morning, long before her neediness can swallow them whole, so she can take from them without an ounce of guilt and she tells herself that it’s enough.
(She wants.)
This stranger isn’t any different. Nami is pinned comfortably beneath her, arms stretched deliciously above her head and tangled loosely in her own underwear by the headboard in an imitation of cuffs —because Nami is voracious, but not stupid enough to let a stranger tie her up for real when there’s a bounty on her head, unlike Sanji— and her ass is smarting and no doubt glowing red from the woman’s earlier punishment. It’s overwhelming, and it’s almost enough, and the woman’s fingers are just reaching down between Nami’s legs as she whispers against her lips that she’s done so well when a third person throws open the door and bursts into the room.
The woman shrieks in surprise and scrambles off the bed. Nami doesn’t, because she’s pretty sure she’s just died and gone to hell.
The intruder is Robin.
To her credit, she looks at least a little apologetic beneath her urgent expression. “I’m sorry Nami,” she says, already reaching for her. “A Vice Admiral just docked. Luffy and Zoro are keeping them busy, but we have to go.”
Nami seriously considers allowing herself to be captured and taken to Impel Down, because she would’ve preferred literally anybody else to have walked in on this. It’s too much to hope that Robin has missed even a single detail of what she’d just been doing, and who she’d been doing it with. It isn’t something that she’d really considered until this exact moment, but Nami’s bed partner for the evening looks superficially similar enough to Robin that seeing them in the same room makes it hard to write off as coincidence, and Robin… Robin never misses anything.
Nami is not like Sanji. She isn’t.
In the end, she decides that suffering through the indignity of Luffy inevitably storming the prison to come and break her out would be the worse outcome here (although it’s an extremely close call) and jumps to her feet. She finds her bag on the floor where she left it along with her dress, which Robin stuffs unceremoniously over her head while politely ignoring how Nami shoves her discarded underthings into her purse.
One would think that running for her life might distract her from spiraling into a pit of absolute despairing mortification, but unfortunately, Nami is actually very good at running away from Marines by now and is perfectly capable of both. By the time the Sunny settles into the water after a quick coup de burst, their pursuers now nowhere in sight, she is pale and shaky from a combination of the slowly ebbing adrenaline and the urge to just throw herself overboard and be done with it. The desire that had been coursing through her just minutes ago is completely gone now, despite the stickiness lingering between her thighs. Her ass still smarts every time she moves and it makes her feel oddly vulnerable, which isn’t helped at all by the fact that Nami can feel Robin’s eyes on her.
There won’t be any avoiding this conversation, she knows, and she dreads it with an intensity that almost scares her.
Brook volunteers to steer the ship for the next few hours so the rest of them can sleep, since it’s well into the night by now, and Zoro stays with him on watch. This leaves Nami without any excuses to delay it any longer, so she wordlessly turns on heel and marches into the room she shares with Robin and tries not to look like she’s walking to her own execution. Robin follows her on silent feet, and Nami isn’t sure if the lack of reaction makes things better or worse.
“I really am sorry Nami,” Robin says the second she closes the door behind them. “I never wanted to invade your privacy like that, but nobody else could find you.”
Nami can’t bring herself to look at her, ears burning hot as she stands at the foot of their bed, fidgeting and staring at the floor. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” she admits, feeling small.
“Why?” Robin asks. When Nami glances up at her through her eyelashes she looks genuinely confused.
“I never told you that I…” Nami trails off and bites anxiously at her lip. Homosexuality isn’t uncommon amongst pirate crews, she knows, since they tend to collect those who don’t otherwise fit in with the rest of society. She’s never talked about her own preferences with anyone else before though. Not with anyone who matters to her anyways.
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Robin says gently. So gently that it makes her stomach turn.
Nami shakes her head. “I do,” she disagrees, still staring at the floor. “We share a bed. I should’ve said something in case it made you uncomfortable.”
For a moment Robin doesn’t say anything, and Nami fists her hands into the fabric of her dress and braces herself for the worst. She jumps when Robin touches her —When had she come so close?— but her fingers are gentle as they curl beneath her chin and coax her into looking up into Robin’s face.
“Before anything else, you’re my friend, Nami,” the woman says fiercely, once she’s sure Nami is paying attention. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to apologize for. There isn’t any part of you that makes me uncomfortable.”
The words hit her harder than she expects, and Nami can’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes as she looks into Robin’s face. She’s so relieved she can’t even speak. Robin is so, so important to her, and the prospect of disappointing or disgusting her had been completely unbearable. In lieu of trying to find the words to say how unbelievably grateful she is to have her as a friend (because there just aren’t any that would be sufficient) Nami just throws herself into Robin’s arms and hugs her tightly.
Laughing, Robin hugs her back with just as much strength, and Nami clings to her.
Robin had frightened her once, back in the early days when they were all still brushing the sands of Alabasta out of their clothes. To Nami, she’d seemed like something of a dark mirror of herself. The dead look in Robin’s eyes had been gut-wrenchingly familiar to her, and Nami could recognize that Robin was a player of the same game that she herself was: ingratiate yourself into a group and when the moment is right, take them for all they’re worth. The difference between them, of course, was that Robin was far better at it than Nami had ever been, and had been playing for longer than she’d been alive. Once, Nami never would have dared to touch Robin like this. (Once, she never would have dared to call her a friend.) It never fails to fill her with a quiet sense of wonderment now that when Nami is greedy enough to reach out to her, Robin lets her.
Robin always lets her. Nami is not like Sanji though and never dares to push her luck, because although she’ll never admit it out loud (she has a reputation to maintain, after all) Robin’s hard earned trust is worth more to her than any amount of money.
“Nami,” Robin asks after a moment, resting her cheek on the top of her head as they sway together. “Are you okay after all that? It seemed intense.”
“I-I’m fine,” Nami stammers, cheeks feeling warm again. “It was just a spanking, I’m not actually hurt.”
“I noticed,” she replies, sounding terribly amused. “I meant emotionally, though. I pulled you away mid session and into a life or death situation, and you didn’t get any kind of aftercare.”
At this point, Nami thinks she could probably cook an egg on her face with how hard she’s blushing. She doesn’t know if she can handle hearing Robin talk about this so casually —doesn’t want to think about why Robin knows exactly what dynamics had been at play in the stranger’s bedroom— especially because she’s right. Her night cut short, she’d received all punishment and no reward and it’s left her feeling cold and needy and bereft.
She wants and wants and wants, and it curls behind her teeth like a dragon’s tongue.
“I’ll be fine,” is what she says instead, pulling away a little and averting her eyes, although she can’t quite bring herself to remove herself from Robin’s space entirely. She doesn’t want to see the sweet concern in Robin’s expression.
There are some things that even Nami is not allowed to want.
“You’re shaking,” Robin points out, and tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind Nami’s ear. “I’m worried about you.”
Somewhat hysterically, Nami wonders what exactly she’s supposed to do in the face of such sincerity. Her lower lip wobbles.
She wants.
“Tell me what you need, Nami,” Robin urges, and Nami can’t. She can’t.
“Please don’t,” she begs, and she almost doesn’t recognize her own voice. It’s tremulous and watery and so unlike herself. So much so that it almost distracts her from the flash of hurt that momentarily flickers across Robin’s face before her expression clears and she steps away from Nami like she’s been burned.
Almost. It doesn’t though, and Nami hates herself a little when she sees it.
“I can’t,” she confesses, scrubbing a hand across one eye and fisting at her hair in distress as words start to fall out of her mouth in an uncontrolled rush of babble. A river of sound, overflowing its banks. “It’s too much. I’m too much. If I let you help now I’ll just take more and more from you until you hate me, and I can’t lose you Robin. Not you. I… I only just got you back!”
Slowly, Robin reaches out again. Her hand hovers mere inches from Nami’s waist, but she doesn’t touch. She simply waits. “Nami,” she says, calm and even. “There isn’t anything you could take from me that I’m not willing to give. I could never hate you. You could never be too much.”
Hearing those words feels to Nami like what she imagines getting struck with her thunder tempo does. They freeze her in place, just for an instant, as wild hope and sheer disbelief war for pride of place in that space in her chest where that voracious monster prowls. Then, she falls back into Robin with all the inevitability of a returning tide subsuming the shore, and Robin holds steady to meet her. She kisses Nami slowly and runs her hands through her hair, smiling when it makes Nami shiver.
“I missed you so much Robin,” Nami whispers when they break apart. It’s the only thing she can think of to say, and it’s the absolute truth. She feels so touch-starved after two years of separation from her friends that the idea of Robin letting her go even for an instant now that she finally knows what she tastes like is making her insane.
“Tell me what you need, Nami,” Robin requests again, and Nami whines. It’s a desperate sound that she doesn’t have the wherewithal to be properly ashamed of at the moment.
It’s all she can manage though, and Robin seems to take it in stride as she hums and drags a thumb over Nami’s lips. “You’ve had a hard day today, haven’t you dear?” she observes.
Nami nods frantically and tries to ignore how her heart trips and shudders in her chest at the endearment.
“Tell me.” The command is soft, and accompanied by a light brush of fingers against her cheek, but Nami recognizes it for what it is. Robin’s expression is one of intense interest, and it’s something she only usually sees the woman direct at things like old books and crumbling buildings. Her pupils are blown wider than she’s ever seen them though, and Nami suddenly feels like an insect that’s been pinned to a corkboard for study. She likes it.
(How many times has she envied the subject of Robin’s attention? She wants and wants.)
“This morning, Luffy ate my breakfast,” Nami begins haltingly. A genuine grievance because Sanji had made crepes today, and she loves crepes. Robin nods sympathetically, and Nami continues with more confidence. “Franky accidentally knocked Chopper overboard when we spotted the island and I had to change course to go back and get him. Then he had the audacity to ask for spending money at the market when he knows he’s already over budget.”
“And then?” Robin prompts when Nami hesitates.
“And then I took shore leave on my own, and ended up with… that woman.”
Robin raises an eyebrow. “No name?”
“I didn’t ask.”
Tilting her head, Robin considers her silently. Nami knows that she’s probably curious about why she’d chosen that woman. The one with the dark hair and blue eyes. They’re both aware that Nami will never answer truthfully though. They’re liars, the pair of them: through and through.
“And what did you do to deserve those spanks?” Robin asks instead after a long moment, reaching around to run a bold hand along the curve of Nami’s bottom.
Even through the fabric of her dress it still stings, and Nami hisses in a breath and shies away from the contact by pressing herself into Robin’s front and burying her face in her chest. “I asked for them,” she admits, slightly muffled. “I needed to apologize.”
“For?”
Nami doesn’t have an answer. For being herself, maybe? For wanting too much? For existing? She shakes her head into Robin’s clavicle, and Robin doesn’t push her.
“How many? Did you count?” she prods, hands smoothing over her back as she switches to a safer question. Nami’s grateful on both fronts, and leans into the contact shamelessly.
“Twenty,” she responds, breathless, because she knows this one. “I took twenty, and then you came to get me.”
“And then I came to get you,” Robin agrees, pressing an apologetic kiss to her cheek. “And you left with me when I asked even though you hadn’t gotten what you needed, and you made sure we all escaped from the Vice Admiral.”
“Yes,” Nami whimpers.
Robin kisses her again, and this time it’s deep and filthy. She knots her fingers into the fine hair at the nape of Nami’s neck and tugs, tilting her head back and swallowing Nami’s moan at the sharp pain. “You were perfect today Nami,” she praises once she comes up for air, voice sweet and sharp as citrus. “You worked so hard, and did so well. You listened to me when I needed you to, so I think you deserve a reward now, don’t you?”
“Please,” Nami blurts, staring at Robin with wide, teary eyes as the praise washes over her and sends shudders of need down her spine. A small part of her is convinced that this must be a dream. The rest of her wants.
Dipping her head, Robin nibbles down the exposed column of her throat. “You can choose,” she tells her. “Do you want my hands, or my mouth?”
Nami wants and wants and wants until she’s delirious with it. She’s always been greedy, and Robin had said that she could take, hadn’t she? “Both,” she gasps, squirming as Robin pushes her dress off one shoulder and sucks a bruise onto the side of her neck. “Please Robin, can I have both?”
Robin smiles into her skin. “How polite,” she comments mildly. “Since you asked so nicely, I don’t see why not. Take off your dress and lay down on the bed for me.”
In her scramble to obey, Nami nearly topples over. Robin catches her of course, hands caressing over her ribs, and lowers her to sit safely on their bed before crawling on top of her. The drag of her bare skin against Robin’s clothes feels heavenly, and Nami arches into her with a quiet cry.
For her part, Robin isn’t wasting any time. She litters kisses over Nami’s chest and stomach with what feels uncomfortably like desperation. Like she’s waiting for Nami to change her mind and ask her to stop. Nami has half a mind to say something to reassure her that she will never, ever ask her to stop, but can’t string a coherent thought together long enough to find the words. Each press of Robin’s mouth and fingers washes them away like footprints in the sand, and the only thing left remaining to her is the sheer awe and disbelief that this is actually happening.
In one way or another, Nami has been fixated on Robin since the day they met: has been ruthlessly crushing the part of her that wants into silence for years now. She’s always been selfish. Most of the time, Nami isn’t even ashamed of it since she’s sailing under the flag of the one person alive who might be even more selfish than she is. Nami is the sort of person who keeps her friends in debt to her so they can never leave her: the sort of person who doesn’t share her tangerines. She’s never been able to bring herself to give Robin a debt though, and she’s lost count of how many times she’s pressed a slice of one of her tangerines to Robin’s mouth, the sweet juice passing from Nami’s fingers to Robin’s lips like a kiss. Sparing Robin from the endless voracity inside her, Nami thinks, is one of the few selfless things she’s ever done.
But here she is, and here is Robin; and there is a sudden, aching hope inside her that Nami’s years of quiet, heartfelt admiration and childish fantasies haven’t been for nothing after all. Nami has never been allowed to want before. She’s gone her whole life as an ungrateful brat and a thieving little shit and a greedy harpy and a cat burglar, and she’s learned to be proud of it.
Still. Maybe just once, Nami thinks wistfully, it would be nice to want something without needing to commit a crime to have it. And maybe, if Robin wasn’t lying earlier about being so willing to give… maybe this could be that once.
By the time Robin is satisfied with the constellation of bruises on Nami’s chest, stomach, and inner thighs —and she truly had never imagined in any of her many daydreams that Robin would be this bitey, although she isn’t complaining— Nami is so worked up that the noise she makes when Robin’s nose brushes up against the curls at the apex of her thighs could best be described as a wail. She claps a hand over her mouth to muffle herself almost immediately, but is foiled when one of Robin’s devil fruit hands sprouts out of her shoulder and pries it away.
“I want to hear you say my name, dear,” Robin purrs, and then dives in.
Robin’s mouth on her is as hungry as Nami feels. Ecstasy floods her body like a towering tidal wave, swallowing everything in its path, and yet all Nami can think of is that this is Robin. Robin, who is her friend. Robin, who she’s been willing to die for since even before Enies Lobby. Robin, who’s been willing to kill for Nami for even longer than that. Robin, who has promised to hold her hand as they travel with their friends to the end of the world and back again.
Robin, who only moments ago cradled that ugly, wanting thing that lives inside her chest and promised to feed it until it can’t eat anymore.
Nami’s orgasm overtakes her embarrassingly quickly, and she sobs Robin’s name over and over as she rides it out, fists clenching helplessly in the sheets beneath her. For her part, Robin just watches her closely with gleaming eyes, her cheek resting on the inside of Nami’s thigh until Nami’s thrashing stills and she surges up her body to kiss her.
She can taste herself in Robin’s mouth, and Nami can’t remember the last time she’s felt this good, or even if she ever has.
“Good girl, Nami,” Robin whispers into her ear, then eases her fingers down across her belly. “You can give me one more, can’t you? You asked me for both.”
Head spinning, Nami can only whimper and nod. She’s willing to do anything Robin asks her to.
She wants.
This time, Robin goes slow. If she’d been desperate before, it seems she’s decided to savor this now. She eases two fingers inside her and moves carefully, openly studying Nami’s face as she does so and cataloguing every gasp and twitch and whine with the same sort of prodigious precision she uses to decipher lost languages. Her touch is thorough and exploratory, pressing and stroking in different places and at different speeds to test how best to make Nami lose her mind. As with any task that Robin sets her mind to, she achieves mastery very quickly and to absolutely devastating effect.
Not that Nami is given much choice in the matter. With her wrists and ankles held in place by Robin’s extra hands, she’s trapped in a position where she can neither escape her ministrations nor chase more, and the heat that coils ever so slowly in her abdomen as she continues is close to maddening. Robin’s grip is loose enough, of course, that Nami would likely be able to tear free if she really wanted to. If that happened this would all stop though, and Nami would rather die than risk that. She doesn’t want Robin to ever stop touching her.
Still, Nami isn’t above begging. “Robin please,” she whines, a high and breathy noise that feels like it was dragged out of her chest as she trembles, pinned in place and gasping and not quite able to reach her peak again even as she dances right on the edge.
The smirk that tugs across Robin’s mouth when she hears her is just the slightest bit unkind, because she’s a tease and she knows it. Her eyes flicker with mischief in a way that seems to come so much easier to her now, two years after they’d last been together, and it warms something inside her to see it. “Tell me what you need, Nami.”
This time, Nami knows the answer. It’s easy, because it’s what she wakes up in the morning wanting and goes to sleep at the end of the day still wanting, no matter how much she takes and takes and takes in between.
“More.”
True to her word, Robin obliges, and Nami comes so hard her vision whites out a little and she goes boneless.
She’s present enough to still do her best to cling to Robin as she sits up though, and Robin laughs and gathers her into her lap and holds her close, much to Nami’s satisfaction. “That was beautiful, Nami,” she whispers, sounding a little breathless herself as she presses a plush kiss to her mouth. “You’re beautiful. Thank you for trusting me.”
Perhaps it’s telling that a simple compliment can make Nami blush more than actual sex. Cheeks and ears burning, she shyly ducks her face to hide in Robin’s neck and focuses her limited mental energy on keeping as much of her body in contact with hers as possible. Her whole body stings with love bites and she’s buzzing with that loose, contented feeling that comes after excellent sex all the way from her fingertips to her toes, and Nami knows that the best way to prolong that sort of bliss is to steal as many cuddles as she can feasibly get away with. Thankfully, Robin seems more than happy to oblige, and even sprouts a second set of arms to hold her tighter.
(She wants and wants.)
“Let’s find your robe and go take a bath,” Robin suggests after a while, leaning their foreheads together and sighing happily. “I can wash your hair, and I want to take a look at some of these bite marks to make sure I didn’t break skin. I also have some aloe for your butt if you want. Your skin still feels hot there, so it’ll probably help.”
Nami blinks at her. “Don’t you want…?”
Robin is already shaking her head. “I want tonight to be about you,” she says, stroking a soft hand down the notches of Nami’s spine. “You really did have a hard day, dear. I wasn’t kidding about that. You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“But I want–”
“Let me take care of you,” Robin requests, interrupting Nami’s protests. Her expression is soft and adoring for all that her voice is firm. “It’s important to me. You’re important to me.”
Nami’s breath stutters in her lungs, because she quite simply can’t control herself when Robin is saying everything she’s ever wanted to hear with that earnest look on her face. “Robin,” she says hoarsely, forcing herself to do the selfless thing and warn her one last time. “This… this is the only chance I’ll give you to walk away. If you don’t, I’m going to take you for everything you have.”
Nami isn’t exaggerating in the least. She’s not like Sanji, who is content to love someone from afar and simply enjoy their happiness. Nami is so much worse. She wants, wants, wants Robin. Everything about her. She wants her smiles, her attention, her brilliant mind, her sleepy mornings, her quiet evenings, her pleasure, and even her tears and grief. She wants all of her tomorrows, all of her somedays; and Nami is greedy and selfish and she’ll take it all and never, ever give any of it back. Not even if she begs. If Robin gives her an inch, Nami isn’t going to stop with just taking a mile. She’ll unfurl that mile like a sail above her head and bite and claw at the entire horizon until her fingers and mouth are bloody, and she probably won’t stop even then.
In the face of Nami’s threat, Robin doesn’t flinch. Her eyes sharpen and she smiles fiercely, leaning forward into Nami’s face to the point that their lips nearly brush when she speaks. “Good,” she says forcefully, digging a cruel finger into one of the bruises she’d sucked into Nami’s inner thigh and looking pleased with herself as Nami gasps and squirms in her hold. “Then the next time you want something, you’ll come to me to get it. Understand?”
“Yes Robin,” Nami agrees, halfway moaning and entirely sincere. Not bothering to hold back anymore, she grabs at the back of Robin’s neck and drags her into a needy kiss, relishing the tiny noise of surprise and pleasure that she makes against Nami’s lips. She wants and wants and wants, and she’s allowed to. She’s allowed to.
Robin had asked if she understood, and finally, Nami thinks she does.
The Robin from two years ago had been entirely too willing to let things and people go. She’d boarded their ship with nothing but the clothes on her back, and even then she’d had to borrow some of Nami’s because those had been unsalvageable. It never seemed to bother her then, but Nami knows intimately what it’s like to only have access to the things you can borrow or steal. Robin lived her whole life with nothing and no one to call her own, or to lay a claim to her in turn. Everything about her life —including Robin herself— had always been painfully temporary. No matter how many hands she could grasp with, not even Robin could hold a wave on the sand after all.
The Robin from two years ago had learned to stop wanting, because she’d never had anything that wasn’t eventually taken away.
Until the Straw Hats.
So maybe it’s not very surprising at all, she thinks, that Robin seems so willing to let Nami grip into her with her sharp harpy claws and threaten to never release her. That she can stare into the raging sea of Nami’s voracious heart that has scared off so many people because she’s too much and smile before diving right in without the slightest fear of drowning, because she knows Nami will never let her head slip under the water. Maybe it’s not so strange that Robin sees all of her insatiable wanting and reacts by sinking her own teeth into Nami’s skin again and again until she resembles nothing so much as a canvas of the blooming purple flowers that Robin loves so much. Nami is one of the people who taught her to be selfish, after all.
Nami is used to wanting, but she’s not nearly as accustomed to being wanted in turn.
She likes it.