#wanihana

[humans-are-tasty]

recent cmms

[wigglesdtuff]

Let's roll the dice and we'll both make our moves Playing like lovers do

[louplont]

like bruh your obsession is showing a little

[kartoffelstern]

partners in crime

[kookoofufu]

How is he supposed to compete with THAT???

[sivayatheclown]

Drink | Wanihana 鰐華 🐊🌸

[coconut-puonch]

Wanihana art dump

[mjrtaurus]

I don’t typically ship Crocodile and Robin, but when I do, it’s always as one of those situationships that’s cold and painful from start to finish. Two people that have been burned multiple times, that are emotionally unavailable, either unwilling or unable to be vulnerable, and deeply, terribly lonely.

[stjarnskrik]

inappropriate workplace relationship

[animunerdery]

🐊🌸

[the-bar-sinister]

Just For This Moment (10084 words) by thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Crocodile/Nico Robin Characters: Crocodile (One Piece), Nico Robin

Additional Tags: Getting Together, Pre-Canon, Trust Issues, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Soft Crocodile (One Piece), Drinking, Smoking, POV Nico Robin

Summary: Returning from a mission Robin is invited to dinner by Crocodile and their conversation turns to something more intimate.

Neither Robin nor Crocodile can fully trust anyone-- certainly not one another-- but that doesn't mean that they can't enjoy one another's company. The terrible thing about that, though is when you enjoy someone's company, you start to care about them.

[mushiemellows]

Frobin + Wanihana

These Foolish Things on Ao3

Rating: M

Words: 14,179

Summary: She thinks it's over the day she sails away from Alabasta. Months and miles separate her from her past, but the more she gets used to a new routine, the more she realizes just how deep the hooks remain. Franky is not the same man that Crocodile was, but that doesn't mean little things don't remind Nico Robin of her previous lover. The scars are fresh, and the archeologist isn't sure if this is an aspect of herself that she's ready to excavate just yet.

And there's a lot of Frank Sinatra.

Content Warning: This is a story of a previously abusive/toxic relationship. Robin is not a perfect victim, and Miss All Sunday participates in the toxic cycle of physical and emotional manipulation between herself and Crocodile. She is not perfect in recovery, either. Sex is not gratuitous (as in, not my standard way of writing smut) but it is present. Consent is technically given, but power dynamics and the toxicity of the relationship make it complicated. There is brief discussion of miscarriage. There is discussions of transphobia against both Crocodile and Franky.

[wigglesdtuff]

it's messy

[louplont]

mr. 0 & miss all sunday

[kartoffelstern]

who's the boss behind closed doors...

[deathbyclown]

This was the expectation. It had been established long ago, against her better judgement. But she had been desperate to get into his good graces, to be accepted, to be protected. To be safe for just one night. And this was what she could offer. Fealty. Submission. Sex. It felt like the only thing that someone like her, with nothing but her name and a past that dogged her at every step, could offer someone like him. Nico Robin could only bring trouble.

But still. Crocodile didn’t seem to mind. When they met…it was like he had unearthed a precious jewel. He kept her close, and for a fleeting moment she felt wanted. Needed. Valuable.

But still she felt the need to show how valuable she could be, to offer something in return for the trouble she knows she must be causing. And that’s how it happened. That first night after an intimate dinner together, after agreeing to be partners in a business venture that made Robin sick to her stomach. But the prize at the end would be well worth it.

And to show her loyalty, her gratitude, her appreciation, she slept with him. At that time, it was just sex. He was gentler than she expected, but it still hurt. He was big, bigger than any man she had been intimate with in previous encounters. He was so much more, an overwhelming force: Looming, self-assured, dominating.

From then on it became a norm. A nice meal at the end of the week, summarizing what they achieved, and then sex. But it started to bleed into their interactions over the years. His hand would linger on her skin as they walked together, a kiss goodbye when they parted, sitting her on his lap like a prized pet. Everything blurring together until she’d give a report and then be on her knees, under his desk, swallowing him, stroking him, fondling him. Until she was bent over his desk, his face between her legs. Until she was pulled into a bathroom stall, held in his arms as he pushed inside of her.

And she started to expect it, started to look forward to it, to those short moments when she felt real, felt alive, felt electric. He was the only one who knew how to bring that out of her. That’s what she convinced herself. She bent to his whims, convinced she was flexible enough to handle whatever he asked of her, strong enough to withstand any challenge. But still, something in her splintered. And she realized he was trying to break her.

All of it was unhealthy. A toxic root that grew out of control, that wound them together so tightly there would be only one way to escape. It was a sick game they played, where they started to resent the other, started to distrust, but only knew how to keep the other close.

And she had a feeling from the beginning, but now she really knew; she would not survive Crocodile.