This is for Apple. Ironic? No. Because she's conceited and wanted it this way. I guess. Lol. WTF am I saying? It's all my fault. She was like "Appleslol," and I was all like "UR 2 VAGUE ROFFLE" and she was like "SEXY apples?" Then, being the person that I am, immediately thought of apple porn. :B

So, seeing as this was a request, don't H4X my computer if I scar you with—uh—explicit, highly offensive imagery about apples.

Btw, I fly like paper, get high like planes.

I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the conception of this ficlet. I do, however, own my own writing style; I think.

To Ryuuk, the apple had always been more than a fruit—the magnificent, radiating, cherry-skinned beauty whose taste was as tantalizing as a succubus's served as more of a lustful lover.

He did not understand why; how this sudden urge could overtake him at the sheer thought of the ruby-red, smooth skin sliding along his lifeless, cold lips. There was no appropriate, logical response as to why his fingers would twitch in anticipation when Light's educated, slightly effeminate hand tossed his one desire carelessly toward him.

And why, in the midst of every one of Light's neurotic and highly-hormonal tirades, he would drift off, in the questionable company of an apple.

He pondered this, in the midst of one such tirade so previously mentioned. Why did he honestly do this?

"-And I swear to the gods, Ryuuk, that I will kill L! That little smug fu-"

Apparently still ranting about his little "boyfriend," Ryuuk thought with a vague hint of smugness, as he made sure Light wouldn't stop speaking soon. He didn't want to feel the scorn of that boy if it were to be discovered that he did not, in fact, listen to everything Light said.

Again, his mind began to slowly drift into a sea of apples; apples, all over him, rolling slowly, seductively down his cadaver-like frame; scorching every fiber of his body with their deliberate touches.

Oh, how he wanted to moan. These unreal, human emotions were draining him into a hollow shell; these desires were all-too mystifying. He needed a release, he felt as though he were shackled.

And the thoughts returned: Thoughts of more apples, rubbing against him this way and that, pinching and pricking his body with their stems. He imagined himself alone with one of these magnificent, graceful creatures,and himself being able to run his calloused and frozen palms along the smooth, slightly bumpy skin of this beast; he would become all too personal and familiar with this enigma, the explicit imagery causing some of his skin to turn a lighter hue.

There was a warm, inviting heat that swam through his body, and he couldn't help but welcome it with the most enthusiasm he'd ever felt. His claws balled up and he wanted to shiver.

Oh god, he knew this was wrong. It went against all Shinigami ethics! He should probably be scorned at the stake, like those witches on television. Oh boy, he should not be feeling these feelings.

But it felt so fucking good to have these emotions; at a time were he thought that because he was a Shinigami he was banned from all forms of empathy. Apparently not.

It did disturb him, though, that he would be finally feeling these buried traits. Could he, perhaps, love the apple? Was that it? And would he eventually die if he were to fall in love with an apple and kill a human as it tried to eat it? He sure as hell hoped not.

Ryuuk blinked, before turning back his focus to Light, who was scribbling names in his Death Note. "Oy, Light-o?"

A moment's pause, before Kira turned to him. "Hm?"

"I might die soon."

"Okay, Ryuuk. Anything else?"

The Death God frowned. "No, not really. Just tellin' ya, so you won't wig out if that does happen, ya know?"

"Hm." Light stood up and put his Death Note in what Ryuuk dubbed "the man purse." "Whatever, then. Let's go, before your idiocy smothers me."

"Whatever you say, Light-o," Ryuuk finished with a leer as he yet again drifted into his subconscious, slowly and happily.

Yay! Done! Awesome! Don't hit me!

But, please review, and tell me like it is, brudda. But flaming's pretty boring, unless you're smart. And "HURF DURF DEATH GODS DON'T GET AROUSED" will result in detention. 3:

You hear me?

(Btw, the irony is that I re-read this and instead of "you're smart," I had "Your smart." I probably shouldn't have told you that, but oh well.)