#One Piece 1048

[hana-blogs]

A small detail that i wasn't sure was intended or not in the manga; that 8 year old Yamato is about the same size as an adult (plain human??) man due to his oni blood.

(He is smaller than the 3 samurai though)

But i do love the adorable feisty lil fella in the anime all the same 🥰

[hanabridge]

NO MAMEN YA VIERON EL CAP 1048 DE ONE PIECE???

GODA HDTPM GRACIAS POR CREAR A MI YAMATOOOOO.

eSTOY ENamorada

[windwaver]

[kookoofufu]

Every time Oda has drawn goofy personified weapons/clothing/sideboob in SBS (so far)

Sidenote, I adore these fan designs of Mihawk's swords. justice for Tokaguhi

[soupkiddo]

Compilation of the most special little guy in the world

[curlybrow-kun]

you can tell Shimotsuki Ushimaru is Zoro's dad because they have the same tits

[brave-symphonia]

I really like them showing how Wano was completely corrupted by Orochi over the last 20 years right before Denjiro kills him once and for all.

It feels really good to be reminded of everything he's done to this country and have that shown alongside his final death.

And then it cuts to Luffy vs. Kaido.

Because while Orochi was a main factor in Wano getting this way, if they can't defeat Kaido, it will all be for naught.

[algumaideia]

Orochi is difficult to kill wow

Bye Kaidoooo

[dbphantom]

Alice Cooper is playing right now but you know what's more important?

Episode trailer :3

[wanoboywednesday]

FUCK its STILL gonna be like a month now until momo bites kaido scene nooooooo

[arcade-gann0n]

i want shimotsuki purple zoro to show up again hes fine

(watching: e1048)

[maha-ya]

Those characters, their designs, their voices!!! Everything about one piece is always topping itself, not just the storyline and character development. Every. Little. Thing.

Ugh I love this show so fucking much.

[marigold-hills]

July 5: burnt | @jegulus-microfic | word count: 1048

It’s July now, but it’s been happening for at least three months.

Every evening at half past seven an ice cream van comes hurtling down the street, blearing out its tune. It stops on the corner. No one ever comes out to it. After five minutes of silence, it starts up again, the sound somehow even louder for the reprieve.

James Potter is sick and tired of it - because every evening at seven, five-month-old Harry falls asleep only to be woken up by the noise.

It’s been a bad week. Teething. Crying. James hadn’t had longer than forty minutes of sleep at a stretch in days and it’s starting to get to him. Every single smile Harry gives him makes it worth it, every kicked off sock makes him laugh and every little cuddle leaves him in awe – but.

(He hates the but. Hates adding it. There shouldn’t be one, he thinks, he should be endlessly grateful for every moment, take it all in stride. Because Harry – because his son - isn’t a but. Isn’t a burden.)

But.

Harry falls asleep, little arms stretched out to the sides. James puts him in the crib and the little thing turns himself onto his belly (a brand-new trick, that). Deep breathing, sleepy little sighs.

James is burning and burnt out. Eyes filled with sand. Back half numb from carrying a heavier-by-the-day infant for days with little break.

I’ll have a cup of tea, he thinks, and drink it while it’s still hot. Then sleep.

The kettle boils. James picks out his favourite tea, adds in the sugar. Just finishes pouring in the water when the music starts.

A precarious moment between sleep and waking but Harry tips into consciousness, little face scrunched up with dissatisfaction and cries mounting, building, louder by the second.

James Potter is a patient man, a kind man. But he’s had enough.

He picks up Harry, shushes him. It’s a quick thing, for him to stop crying once he’s in his daddy’s arms, but his brilliant eyes are wide open now, sleep all but forgotten.

It’s the thought of his nice hot cup of tea that does it. He’s barefoot, when he leaves the house, Harry hoisted up on one hip. Babbling happily now because it’s a great adventure, every time they leave the house.

The music stops and there it is, the thrice-blasted ice cream van. James stomps up to it in a manner certainly not dignified. There is no one at the open window.

“Excuse me?” James shouts into the interior.

A head pops up from below the counter and James thinks oh, fuck me, because:

1.        He’s ready and rearing to have a go, furious and fuelled by exhaustion, but the man is the most beautiful creature James had ever had the misfortune of seeing, and

2.        Literally just fuck me, but

3.        He has Harry on his arm and pieces of mashed up carrot in his hair, some unknown substance on his shirt, and the man is stunning, and

4.        James is just so, so tired.

“Yes?” The beautiful man asks, looking a bit confused and that’s fair enough actually because James is the first customer on that spot in the last three months.

“Err…,” he stutters, “a flake, please?”

“I don’t sell ice cream,” says the beautiful, stunned man driving an ice cream van.

James takes a look at the menu on the back wall, and on the decal on the side of the van that says a .99 flake is £2.50.

“No?”

“No,” and somehow the beautiful man is the one who sounds confused, and he won’t stop staring between James and Harry, big round eyes striking underneath black curls, “I sell drugs.”

“Huh. Like… pharmaceuticals?”

“No. Like weed.”

“Huh.”

Harry takes that as a queue to start babbling at a new person he’s never seen before and the man in the van visibly melts. “Hi there little one,” he says, and James knows he should be walking off right this fucking moment, because a self-confessed drug dealer is speaking to his son and that’s just, categorically, not on…

 But.

“Can I get some of that?” He blurts out because it’s been so long since he got high and he’s so so tired, and maybe tomorrow he’ll take his mum up on the offer to babysit, sit in his garden and just smoke.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” the beautiful man says like it’s the biggest affront and isn’t he the one selling?

”But… why?”it sounds weak and petulant even to his own ears.

Harry makes a few giggling sounds and stuffs his little fist into his mouth. James switches him onto the other hip. The man points to the baby, like it answers the question, and actually, fair enough, it does.

(His hand is also rather slender and fragile looking, and there are pretty silver rings on his fingers and James’ sleep deprived brain says bite.)

“I wasn’t… I wouldn’t…” James tries to explain himself, but it all comes out wrong and awkward. “Anyway, no,” he gathers himself and remembers he had a reason to storm out of his house and just because the man was pretty it wouldn’t change that, “you wake him up every day.”

Somehow, he manages to sound stern and he’s pretty proud of himself for that, actually.

The man’s face falls. Just… collapses. Like it’s the worst news he’s ever heard.

“I do?”

“Yeah. You come by just after his bedtime and the music is really loud, don’t know if you noticed. And it’s been months.”

It’s something akin to pure devastation that spreads through the man’s features like a sun burn. “I’m very sorry, little one,” he tells Harry, seriously. “I won’t play it anymore.”

There, job done, James thinks, and finds he doesn’t actually like that, not at all. Still, “thank you,” he tells the man because that’s what polite people do when their requests are granted, and his mum raised a polite man.

They stare at each other, him and the man, and James knows that this is when he should turn around go home, put Harry back down and then maybe have a shower, but…

“Can I have your number?”

And the most surprising thing? It’s not James who asks.

PART 2

[dirtyvulture]

Natasha Romanoff x GP!Virgin!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: PowerBottom!Natasha x Shy!GP!Reader where they’ve been mutual pining for each other but one night Natasha gets a little possessive and takes reader’s virginity at a party 

I am over the age of 18

Word count: 1048

AN: No pronouns used.

Parties were never really your scene, but you tag along with your friends anyway because you know your crush, Natasha Romanoff, is going to be there. Although you can't quite explain your obsession with her, as she definitely seems like the kind of woman who wouldn't look twice at someone like yourself, being in her presence makes you nervous (in a good way) and you don't mind fantasizing about something that you could have with her.

By the time you and your friends arrive--fashionably late, of course--people are already passed out on the couch, the floor sticky with spilled beer and punch, and the bass of the music is heavy enough to make your whole body vibrate.

You accept a red solo cup of jungle juice, taking a cautious swig and your gag reflex activates at the mix of random fruit flavors and alcohol. You abandon your cup on the first table you find, looking around anxiously for your friends who already have seemed to ditch you.

"Lost, honey?"

"Hmm?" You can't believe another human at this party is even acknowledging your existence when you turn to see a black-haired girl waving at you.

"You look like you'd rather be anywhere else than here," she says, stalking up to you and coming so close that you take a step back to prevent her chest from touching you.

"Uh..." Part of you wants to be honest, and part of you wants to fit in.

"You want to go upstairs? It's a lot quieter," the girl says, brushing her hand up your arm.

"Oh, there you are, Y/N."

Relief fills you when you hear someone call your name, but then you register that it's not the voice of one of your friends. Natasha Romanoff is suddenly by your side, looping her arm in yours and tugging you towards her.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" Natasha asks, as the black-haired girl gawks at the physical contact between you. You're so shocked that Natasha is actually touching you that you don't give her an immediate answer.

"No, not at all," the girl mumbles.

"Good. Come with me, Y/N."

You don't argue, obediently following Natasha up the stairs and into the first room you pass. Now that you think about it, you're not even sure who's house this is, or if you're even allowed up here. Before you can ask Natasha, she shoves you into a chair and locks the door behind her.

"Who was that?" Natasha asks.

"I don't know."

"She looked like she wanted to eat you," Natasha comments, coming back to you and putting her hands on the armrests and leaning forward until her cleavage is right in your face. You gulp and force your eyes up to meet hers. "But you don't want that, right?"

"No, no, I do enjoy being alive and in one piece," you answer nervously.

"Not like that." Natasha chuckles at your innocence.

"What do you mean?"

"She wanted to suck your dick." Hearing the filthy word come out of Natasha's mouth makes your stomach twist. "But I think I get the honors of being your first, right?"

"I...I'm not--"

"A virgin? You don't have to lie to me, it's nothing to be ashamed about." Natasha drops to her knees and your eyes widen as she reaches for your belt and undoes the buckle.

"Natasha..." You're practically squirming in the chair with her hands so close to your crotch. While she's right that you are a virgin and have never fucked anything other than your hand or the toy hiding in your bedroom nightstand, you're excited and terrified for her to be your first. What if you don't last as long as she wants, or make a big mess?

"Tell me to stop if you don't want me," she says, her fingers brushing over the bulge in your jeans.

"I--Yes, yes I want you," you admit pitifully.

"Good." You lift your butt up so she can pull your jeans down and you feel the heat bloom in your face when she lowers your boxers and exposes you to her. Both of you stare down at your cock that pulses against your thigh; it's not at its full hardness yet, but you have a feeling Natasha can help you with that very soon.

Natasha wraps her hand around your cock and starts to pump it. Your thighs tense at the pressure and the warmth of her skin. If this is what her hand feels like, you don't think you'll last long with any other body part. You feel yourself go light-headed as the blood rushes down to your cock and makes it grow.

"Do you want to cum on my face or in my mouth?" Natasha asks suddenly, her hand gliding faster up and down your cock as your pre-cum leaks out to lubricate it.

"What?" You're so overwhelmed by the choices and the current stimulation that you fear you'll release without giving her a proper answer.

Natasha shrugs, then leans forward and wraps her lips around the head of your cock. The heat of her mouth is so intense you feel yourself practically melt, your head tipping backward and painfully hitting the top of the chair.

"Oh, fuck. Oh my God," you pant, your hands shooting down into her red hair as you try and push her mouth further down your cock. Her tongue circles your head a few times to gather every taste of you she can get and your hips tremble uncontrollably. "Natasha, I--"

Her fingers dig into your thighs as she holds you down and slowly inches you into the silkiness of your throat and you lose all control without warning. You moan as spurts of cum burst from your cock, and Natasha breathes hard from her nose to swallow every last drop. She licks at your cock until the sensitivity is too much and you yank at her hair to pull her off.

She leans back and wipes her lips with a triumphant grin on her face, while you want to die from how quickly you came.

"Don't be so disappointed, baby. Practice makes perfect, right?"

And you gladly spend the rest of the party in that room with Natasha, learning how to make it up to her.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[curlybrow-kun]

👀

[eiichiro]

ONE PIECE #1048 created by oda eiichirou