Please God, I want to impregnate Remilia Scarlet so bad. I want her to bear my children with those beautiful child-bearing hips. That beautiful, radiant angel. Like a goddess, having come down to Earth to cleanse us of our sins.
Remilia is beyond divine. I can’t help but drop to my knees in worship whenever I see her beautiful figure even though it's behind that unnecessary clothes. I yearn for her in a way both primal and spiritual. I would commit more war crimes than every president in United States history just to lick the sweet, glistening sweat from her smooth, creamy skin. I want to listen to her moans as my manhood throbs within her, I want to hear her heart race as our bodies become one and our souls irreversibly intertwine in the holy sin of carnal union.
I want to suckle at her motherly bosom, slurping that rich juche milk from her teat as she gently strokes my raging erection. I would stir her velvety cream into my coffee and let my balls boil in it. Her cries of pleasure and the rocking of our bed would be louder than the cacophony of ten thousand drone strikes. I would make love to her until my body gave out, and then some. I would let her break my rib cage with any part of her body. I would let her hit me with her spear just to be near her for a brief moment.
She’s so perfect it hurts. Every moment without her I suffer a pain worse than breaking every bone in my body simultaneously while drowning and also having shards of glass coated in hot sauce forced through every orifice of my body. I want her, I need her. I want to desecrate her crisp general suit. I want to start a family with her and retire after our twenty seven children have grown up and moved out. I want to see those luscious lips speak such filthy, perverse words into my ear while she slides ice cubes down my gaping pisshole.
I love you, Remilia. Please. Be mine. Be my wife, my lover, my mommy, my everything. I’m waiting for you.
I’ll always be waiting for you.