There were many different shades of red. Especially when it came to Eustass Kid. And you loved each and every one of them.
There was auburn—the colour of his hair as you ran your fingers through the strands, tugging him closer. You always liked it when he wore it down. He hated having hair in his face, especially while he worked, but you couldn't get enough of it. You loved the way he shook it out of his eyes, water droplets flying as he stepped fresh out of the shower. You loved when he ran his hands through it in frustration after hours at his work station, pushing the strands away from his forehead only for them to fall right back into place. And you loved the strands that stuck to his forehead as he moved above you, sweat dripping from the ends when he leaned down to capture your lips with his.
There was vermillion—the colour of his scars, dark and twisted against his pale skin. You liked to run your fingers over them, tracing every ridge and pucker, testing the spots where he was numb and where your touch caused him to shudder and turn away. He never told you how he lost his arm and you never asked, but you always wondered about it when he woke sometimes in the dead of night, the phantom pain pulling him from sleep.
There was carmine—the colour of his eyes as they locked onto yours, the intent in them clear. Those eyes had frightened you initially. They reminded you of a demon's—bloodthirsty, insatiable. But there was kindness behind those eyes too, if one was only willing to look for it. And there was love, as difficult as that was to believe. For you and for his crew, though you'd be hard pressed to get him so say it aloud. Not that you minded. His eyes spoke more than his voice ever could.
There was burgundy—the colour of his lips as he leaned in to kiss you for the very first time. They were hesitant, unsure. Gentle was not in his nature, but when he kissed you, it was the only way you could describe it. His mouth tasted of rum and salt water, and when he trailed kisses down the side of your neck, a smear of that burgundy lipstick followed, standing out against your skin like a bruise. Lipstick stains littered the sheets, the pillows, your body—lingering reminders of the feel of his lips on your neck or between your legs.
There was scarlet—the colour of his nails as they raked your thighs in ecstasy, angry, raised paths crisscrossing and diverging. Far from the gentle kiss you had shared in the beginning, his lovemaking was rough and primal. You traded wounds—the bruises on your hips for the bite marks on his neck, the nail gouges up his back for the hand prints on your backside. Pleasure, pain—the line always blurred when the two of you collided. You wouldn't have it any other way.
And finally, there was crimson—the colour of your blood as he watched the life drained from your veins.
Now, when he closed his eyes, red was all he would ever see.
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One Piece x Reader Oneshots (NO REQUESTS)
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