Heya, Im Caprinox. Have my blinkies. scroll for an about me.
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Art
I am an artist! #caprinart is my art tag, and i post on Tiktok and here.
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Writing
I write, both original work, and fanfiction. I also edit works, so reach out if you'd like me to take a look. X-men, and Marvel as a whole are the current fandoms I write for right now and you can find them below or on Ao3.
Works:
#caprinewriting
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#capriyume
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I make covers and VOCALOID songs. you can find my public works on Spotify, or wherever you stream music. #caprinemusic
ok bye now
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This is a personal/vent fic I wanted to share, so sorry if it's not made for everyone. With that said, I hope you enjoy.
"Beware of the false prophets, who come to you in sheeps clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves."
The lamplight shone across Kurt's blue, furry form, casting deep shadows across the walls of the modest bedroom. His sunflower eyes held an reverent intensity as he looked at you, stretched out across the sheets. The cross that hung against his chest caught the light as he leaned forward, his three-fingered hands trembling slightly.
"Mein Schatz," he breathed, the German slipping out as it often did when emotion overtook him. "Du bist so schön." You are so beautiful.
His lips found your collarbone first kissing them soft, almost hesitant. Then they moved lower, each kiss a prayer pressed into your skin. He murmured passages between them, eah small fragments of scripture that he'd carried with him from childhood, from the monastery, from a lifetime of seeking grace in places others called damned.
"This is my body..." His mouth traveled down your sternum. "...given for you."
His tail curled and uncurled behind him, radiating his nervous energy. His hands roamed your sides, mapping every curve, every dip, every inch of flesh as though memorizing sacred text. When his lips reach your ribs, he pauses, pressing his forehead against you.
"I have searched my whole life for something holy," he whispered against your skin. "For something that felt like absolution." His voice cracked. "I looked in the chapel. I looked in the hearts of men who called me 'demon'. I never thought I'd find it—you—here."
He shifted lower, kissing the soft skin of your stomach, his tail winding gently around your wrist. His hands found your hips, gripping them with a possessiveness that contradicted his gentle touches.
He mouthed along your hipbone, teeth grazing, scratching just enough to make you gasp. "Forgive me," he breathed, "for I have sinned. I have wanted you in ways that should damn me. But I would burn a thousand eternities for one more taste. For you."
His tongue traced a line down, lower still, until his breath ghosted over your most sensitive place. He looked up at you then, and his eyes were wild, darker—a storm of devotion and desperation and adoration at every component of your being.
"Please," he begged, almost whined, voice raw. "Let me worship you. Let me prove that something beautiful can come from something monstrous."
You would protest to him calling himself monstrous, but he wasn't waiting for an answer. Burying his face between your thighs with a hunger that bordered on frenzy, his tongue worked against you with practiced devotion, alternating between gentle laps and insistent pressure. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending tremors through your core.
"Blessed art thou..." he gasped between strokes. "Blessed is the fruit of thy womb..." He laughed then, a broken, ecstatic sound. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't stop. You taste like salvation and sin all at once." Why would he apologize?
His tail wrapped around your calf, squeezing tight. His fingers dug into your hips as he devoured you, his devotion leaving no room for hesitation. He was lost in it—in you—in the holy madness of having found something to believe in.
When you came undone against his mouth, he drank every drop of your release as though it were communion wine, whispering prayers of gratitude against your trembling thighs.
He crawled up your body, his erection pressing insistently against your hip. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head back so he could meet your eyes. Sweat matted the fur at his temples. His amberish eyes were glassy, held wide as he regarded you.
"I need..." He swallowed hard. "Gahhh... I need you. I need to be inside you. I need to feel you around me. I need to know this is real."
He positioned himself at your entrance, but didn't push in. Instead, he hovered there, trembling, his forehead pressed to yours.
"You're holy," he whispered. "You're unholy. You're everything I was taught to fear and everything I've ever wanted to worship. How can one be both temptation and salvation?"
He slid inside you in one slow, deliberate motion, and a sound escaped him that was half-groan, half-sob. He paused when he was fully sheathed, letting you adjust, his breath coming in ragged pants against your neck.
"Ave Maria," he breathed, "gratia plena..." Hail Mary, full of grace.
He began to move, each thrust a desperate plea. His pace built from ambivalent to frantic, his hips slapping against yours as he chased something beyond pleasure. His tail tightened around your calf, holding you in place as though terrified you or he might disappear.
"Dominus tecum..." The Lord is with thee. "Benedicta tu in mulieribus..." Blessed art thou among women.
His hands found yours, interlocking your fingers and pinning them above your head. His thrusts grew erratic, his control fraying at the edges.
"I would burn for you," he gasped. "I would tear down every church that ever called me abomination. I would—" He broke off with a shuddering groan. "Pleeeaase, please, please—"
He didn't know what he was begging for. Absolution. Completion. A sign that this love wasn't damning him deeper.
He buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. His movements grew sloppy, his breath catching on moans that sounded almost like weeping.
"Fuck—" The curse ripped from him, startling even himself. "I'm sorry. I'm—you're so—I can't—"
He came undone with a cry that was equal parts ecstasy and anguish, pushing, then spilling deep inside you with a force that left him shaking. His hips pressed flush against yours as he emptied himself into you, his body convulsing with the intensity of his release.
He didn't pull out. He stayed buried inside you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his entire body trembling. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, muffled against your skin.
"Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus..." Holy, holy, holy. "You are holy. You have made me holy by wanting me. By taking me inside you. By letting me—" His voice broke completely.
You felt wetness against your shoulder. Not sweat. Tears.
His grip on your hands loosened, and he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears streaming down his blue cheeks and matting the fur. He looked stripped bare—more vulnerable than you had ever seen him.
"I love you," he choked out. "I know that's foolish. I know I'm a demon with a demon's body and a demon's appetites. I know I have no right to ask for anything but forgiveness. But I love you in a way that terrifies me. I love you like you're the only prayer I've ever truly meant."
His voice dropped even lower, cracking on every word. "You are the only answer to any question I've ever asked of God. You are grace I don't deserve. You are light in a world that taught me I belonged to darkness. And I am so afraid that this is a dream. That I will wake up alone in my bunk at the mansion, still reaching for something I'll never have."
He was sobbing now, ugly and raw, his body still intimately joined with yours. His tail loosened from your calf, curling instead around your waist as though anchoring himself to you.
You reached up, cupping his tear-streaked cheek in your palm. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, leaning into it like a man starved for kindness.
"I'm here," you said softly, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone. "I'm real. And I'm not going anywhere."
He let out a shuddering breath, his body sagging against yours. "I don't deserve you."
"Maybe not," you replied gently. "And maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe we don't need to deserve each other. Maybe we just need to choose each other."
A fresh wave of tears spilled down his cheeks. He pressed his lips to yours—soft, tender, tasting of salt and devotion.
"Ich liebe dich," he whispered against your mouth. "Meine Seele. Mein Herz. Meine ganze Welt." I love you. My soul. My heart. My whole world.
He stayed inside you as his breathing slowly steadied, as his tears dried against your skin, as the candle burned down to nothing and the room fell into darkness. He held you close, his tail a constant presence wrapped around you, his lips finding yours again and again.
"Stay with me," he breathed. "Please. Just stay."
It wasn't a command. It was a prayer. And as you held him, stroking his hair, whispering reassurances against his furred ear, you knew—this was the truest worship you had ever known. Not in a church. Not on an altar. But here, in the arms of a man who had been called monster, learning for the first time what it meant to be loved as something sacred.
i will literally just delete any asks about personal details of my life. 1. it should be fairly obvious, if ur asking 2. i dont know you i dont have to prove anything to you, 3. BLOCK ME!!! YOU DONT HAVE TO SEE MY CONTENT
A good example of what not to ask is "where do you live, wanna meet up?"
a good example of what you CAN ask:
"how tall are you, top or bottom, can i stroke it silly style"
ill be freaky with you if you dont immediately manage to creep out the puppy in the first 5 seconds of knowing you exist.
i will literally just delete any asks about personal details of my life. 1. it should be fairly obvious, if ur asking 2. i dont know you i dont have to prove anything to you, 3. BLOCK ME!!! YOU DONT HAVE TO SEE MY CONTENT
