Chapter Text
She’s embarrassed by the red she sees - the color lacing itself around her body like the rhinestone embellishments so strategically placed on her expensive bridal babydoll, which now lay haphazardly on the floor somewhere, discarded like a towel after a hot shower.
She normally adores the color red - especially when it comes from those who commit the most heinous of crimes, comes from those only deserving of death, or when it adorns her clothing to hide her deeds, to keep her from being caught, or when it paints the flowers gifted to her by her husband to show his devotion, his adulation, or when it tints her husband’s cheeks every so often when she calls him out for cuddling her or she catches him staring.
She doesn’t like the red on her now though - but he’s simply obsessed.
“Look at you - all marked up and red. Fuck, you look beautiful like this,” he whispers lowly in her red-tipped ear, keeping his fingers gently entangled in her hair to prevent her from looking away from the mirror in the open wardrobe.
“Loid!”
“Yes, Mrs. Forger?” he feigns ignorance. She’d see red if she weren’t feeling it.
The only red she really likes in the scene reflecting back at her right now is the smudged red lipstick that he’s wearing so proudly on his face, lips, and neck as he’s simultaneously behind and inside her.
The red that she left behind.
“Please-! I can’t wait any longer!” she exclaims.
How can she get more red?
Her husband slowly pulls out until only the tip is left inside and then even more gradually thrusts back in, fast enough for her to feel (it’s hard not to when he’s so big) but too slow for her to get fully off on.
She focuses her sight on her eyes in the mirror - ironically the only spot on her body to not be brimmed with red, only small outer layers of the irises being visible from behind her blown pupils.
She thinks about how weddings were supposed to be more white and how the white she’d been wearing had been so quickly discarded for her usual red.
She’d thought that today would have been a break from all that red - the one day she could wear white.
Oh, how she’d been wrong.
Her hair is pulled back slightly to bring her to stand on her knees, and her husband’s lips enclose hers when he forces her head to turn, tongue slipping against her own with practiced ease. The black she sees when she closes her eyes is a welcomed change, but the red never fades from the heat she feels blazing her skin like a wildfire on dry land.
His fingers glide up her smooth, marked skin from her buttocks up to her breasts, where red, pebbled nipples sit practically screaming for attention with their violent color. He forces a red hot gasp out of her mouth and into his own when he pinches one.
He pulls his lips from hers and bites hard into her shoulder. She wonders if he tastes red.
Her husband gives a small thrust, and she moans as her eyes are drawn back to the reflection across from her.
He gives another. She whines.
And another. She cries.
“Loid!” Mrs. Forger whimpers as that familiar drunk-like feeling encapsulates her, her mind beginning to float.
She momentarily realizes that Loid Forger’s favorite color is red - the red that twinkles on her skin before, during, and after each time he claims her like the stars in the sky one can see after twilight passes, the red of his favorite backless sweater of hers that she normally wears around the apartment, the red of her irises that oh so lovingly and longingly stare back at him whenever she even glimpses at him.
Loid Forger adores red, no matter the setting, unlike her, because all he sees when he catches red is her - Yor Forger.
And when that red hot flame inside her bursts hotter when he manages to send her over the edge, turning to blue, Yor Forger can’t help but understand where his obsession comes from.
Because as she meets his blue eyes in the mirror while tremors shock through her body with blue lightning, Yor realizes that she has her own obsession with a certain color.