I love priests who resist temptation, who try their hardest to be good to God. But now I want a priest who drops to his knees the moment he discovers my true nature. He finally has the chance to taste the forbidden, to be undone by lust itself.

. . .

Holy water sits untouched on the altar. His fingers tangle in his rosary like a lifeline, beads biting into his palm as his gaze drags over my figure, the hypnotic sway of my hips drawing his attention like a man starved.

"You... You're a demon, aren't you?" His voice is wrecked, throat raw from swallowed-down confessions.

I circle him, slow and taunting, the spaded tip of my tail brushing the hollow of his trembling throat. His cock is hard enough to hurt, straining against the confines of his cassock, fabric damp with the proof of his shame.

His breath hitches when I lean in, fangs glinting in the dim candlelight. "Indeed, darling. And here you are," I purr, "begging for me before you've even been told to."

His knees hit the stone floor with a thud, exposing the shameful bulge under his robes. His fingers shake as they fumble with his belt, desperate and clumsy.

"Please." It's less a word than a sob. "I've spent my life denying myself. But y-you…" He exhales shakily, cock springing free, leaking against his stomach. "You're the sin I dream about when the candles burn too low."

I chuckle, running a clawed fingertip from his lips down to his heaving chest, watching him shudder. "Poor, fallen priest. Do you touch yourself at night and think of creatures like me? Do you beg God for forgiveness as you spill over your fist, imagining my hand curling around your cock?"

He whines, hips stuttering. "Mhmm, e-every night."

I grip his jaw, forcing his gaze up to mine. "Then let me give you what you've been praying for."

My mouth crashes against his with a hunger too fierce to be holy, his tongue sliding against the sharp points of my fangs. And when my hand finally closes around his cock, everything he is, all his vows, his devotion unravels in the span of a single stroke.

"I can't." He is babbling, clutching at my hips, my thighs, anywhere he can reach. "I can't last, I'm—"

"You will," I murmur, twisting my wrist just so, delighting in the way his whole body locks up in desperation. "After all… sin isn't meant to be easy, dear."

When his orgasm rips through him, he arches in my touch, eyes rolling back as he chants my name instead of God's.

I wipe a finger through the mess, painting his lower lip with it. "Now swallow your prayer, just like a good sinner you are."

Oh, and he does... with a shameless, greedy smile on his face.

That someone would definitely need to be a perpetual, maybe some sort of psyker too. In short, they would need to be able to handle him. A baseline human would just die.

I think he would do some awful stuff to them. He would kill them, over and over, among other things. Konrad would kill them over anything, but especially over him sensing they got too close.

Loving someone like Konrad is not for the weak lol. Yes, he was mentally unstable, but he also wasn’t a good person. He did all he did because he thought his visions were absolute. Even mentioning that to him (that his visions might not be absolute) could end in him killing that person.

It would take years for him to even entertain the idea of care, let alone love. That person would need to suffer an extended amount of abuse and still stick around and even then he might just chalk it up to them being crazy.

But he might. Eventually he might crave their company, he might seek them out. Yes, in his own fucked up twisted way, he might love them.

Now let’s entertain the idea of visions. The only way I see him not being a complete abusive asshole is if he gets visions of him protecting and caring for that person. And even then, it would come from a place of “I saw it so it must be true”, rather than him genuinely caring.

So yeah, difficult task. A realistic Konrad would not be a good partner.

I’ve seen people not extend much sympathy to his character because Sanguinius had the same foresight power. Unfortunately, not everyone is able to handle everything the same way. Konrad is a good example of where poor mental health can get you if you don’t have support.

I think he craved his father’s love and ultimately came to hate that need. The same I think happened with Guilliman's mother when Konrad tried to kill her.

Dude was just a poor bastard who deep down probably wished for a family who’d love him.

No one hates Curze more than he hates himself.