Hellooooooo beautiful😽💗 here to ask saturn for vivemi and venus for emiyato pretty pleaseeeee
HELLO MY GORGEOUS CAM 🩷🫵 hold please as i go on a pinterest dive to make a mood board of our home !!!
saturn ノ what does your shared home look like? any specific details that are key features of your place together?
so picture this; an art museum/bookstore/plant shop throw up allllllll over that place
key points; no big lights, only soft, warm ambient lighting. a large plush couch that you melt into, that is big enough to fit all his friends. a massive feat in and of itself. and most importantly, a cat!
now i think it took a lot of convincing on hugo's part for me even agree to live together, much less for me to leave the states (rip a/c)
also included a few photos from my vivemi board: when my feet start to hurt after a long night out, hugo will, effortlessly carry me up several flights of stairs, shoes in hand as well. and let's be forreal this man is clingy!!!!!! it's his idea to pull a chair into the bathroom to 'read' while i'm in the tub. so so so many photos, polaroids, digital, you name it hugo has hundreds of candids of me (to my dismay and lack of photogenics) everywhere because in his words "it's essential to his health" or that he worries he might "forget my face" in my absence (i didn't attend one or two matches)
but i definitely haven't thought about it that much...... 👉👈
venus ノ when did you and your f/o realise you had fallen for each other? did it take anyone else to help you guys realise?
for sure we were too blind to see it. thoughts of "we're just really close friends" as if friends stare longingly into each other's eyes like that..
i think it becomes obvious while out with kenzie and sakura, in which sakura loudly calls out, "what's up with you two?" while waving a fork back in forth
it was kenzie's fault she said smth to sakura to connect the dots, that we ourselves didn't see—were overlooking
from that point on hayato 'nd i couldn't meet eyes without blushing or fidgeting
the walk back home was torturous, awkward silences and attempted conversations that ended in two seconds
it's not until a few days later that we actually sit down 'nd talk about it. meeting at a tiny cafe, ordering but still not meeting each other's eyes.... yeah it was agonizing until we blurt out our feelings at the same time
( hayato might seemingly be more mature than the other boys but i do believe that hadn't meant to meet anyone who would stir his heart romantically while at furin so it throws a wrench in his whole demeanor )
plus i like the notion that i crack that perfect facade he has going to reveal smth more real underneath ♡
mhmmmph clit torture with tamsy would go something like this: using tokushin to tie you up like a pretty bow, high powered vibe specially angled to hit that spot, and naturally it's set to the max speed to draw out the sweetest gasps and whines.
and tamsy? oh he's nowhere to be found.
but worry not, he's got cameras rolling, capturing every sinful detail as you gush and soak the sheets ♡
piercer!tamsy sets his sights on you the moment you step foot into the shop.
he just so happened to be idly chatting up front with one of the tattoo artists—enjin—when you entered. both men stop dead in the middle of their conversation to check you out—it's not subtle at all.
piercer!tamsy's face falls when you say you're there for a tattoo rather than a piercing.
(he was hoping to get you alone with him.)
piercer!tamsy puts on an awarding winning performance featuring; a general analysis of how much prettier and confident you'd look and feel with the new jewelry. offering to cut you a deal, lowering his prices just for you. and when all else fails, he simply takes you by the hand and literally steals you away from the other artist.
and he does it without a hint of shame or remorse — cocky bastard.
piercer!tamsy goes about setting up his station, talking in that melodic voice as he does so, though none of it reaches you. with all the adrenaline and nerves you find yourself staring at his hands. those long and nimble fingers.
thoughts plague you of how good they'd feel— intertwined with your own, pressed between your lips as you swirl your tongue around the digits. how easily they'd span the width of your neck—
piercer!tamsy clears his throat, cocking an eyebrow in a silent 'caught you'. flashing you a smirk like he knew exactly what you were imagining about him but holding his tongue. barely.
tamsy moves to grab the clamp. not missing the way your eyes go wide like bambi. in an instant he's back at your side. getting up way too close and personal till your breaths mingle. large hands cupping your cheeks.
"relax." tamsy says softly, rough pads of his fingers grazing against the underside of your chin, "you look like you're about to faint on me."
"pfft — i am not!" you rebuke, yet your hands are shaking in your lap.
tamsy is better than this, he is—well usually—he can be professional. resist the urge to flirt and woo his customers, except when it's you, apparently. it's breaking several rules when his lips press against yours. gentle at first, then it burns hotter. messier. coaxing you into a heated kiss that steals the air from your lungs. hands fumbling to hold onto anything, a hand threaded through hair, a firm grip on your hip. it leaves no room for escape.
his tongue weasels it's way into your mouth—needy and demanding attention. he tastes of strawberries and cream, as addictingly sweet as tamsy himself.
and so you walk out, not with a new tattoo like you had planned, but with a fresh set of angel bites and kiss swollen lips.
(when asked you chalk it up to the piercings for the aforementioned swelling.)
and you keep coming back. claiming it's only for the discount. he knows it's a lie. you know he sees right through it.
yet you both keep playing this game of cat and mouse.
divider credit to @/cafekitsune
author's note: i wrote this on 3hrs of sleep while sick af so if it makes zero sense, that's why. also i had an alt ending in mind so there will be a part two when i'm feeling better ♡
I appreciate meeting everyone’s f/os and hearing details about how you met and the dates you go on and the things you do day to day, even when I have no clue who the fuck that is. No I have not consumed the source material! That does not matter! The people in my phone are doing show and tell with their partners!!! I may not know your source media, but I know that you’re in love with my mutual! Good enough for me!
its so funny that writing gets harder when you get better at it. back when i sucked i didnt care if i wrote cliches or had bad grammar but now that im better word choice is a matter of life and death and if theres anyway awkward syntax i must. fix it like wow this is not how its supposed to work
wearing an itty bitty little dress in public and you reach your arms up to hug him and he puts his arm around your waist and on your ass to hold the dress down so it doesn't ride up 😞
✞ pairing: father!tamsy caines x fem sinner!reader
✞ word count: 1,985
⚠︎ warnings; lemon (obviously) 18+, sacrilegious themes (!!!), dubcon, inaccurate depictions of confessions, defilement of confession booths nd church pews, false claims of righteousness, 'father'!tamsy, oral sex (m!receiving, not by reader), manipulation/deception, punishments (f!receiving), spanking, fingering, squirting, blatant mockery of faith, dacryphilia, giving into temptation, lmk if i missed any ♡
▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။၊| under your influence - yara nocturne
✞ author's note: feeding the tamsy brain termites with this one!! special thanks to my lovely moot che (@/angelitomalvada) for all her guidance on this fic ♡ happy birthday to me!! >⩊< uhhh yeah, not proofread. let's get to sinning!
your footsteps echo in the empty hall, long since vacated after mass, reverberating off the high ceilings and back again. granting the illusion of someone being hot on your heels, but when you turn there's no one there.
whispers dance with the dust in the golden, umber rays of dawning dusk.
a bead of sweat rolls down your neck.
the pit in your stomach grows larger with every tentative step to the confession booth.
you'd been so good, had resisted your burgeoning desires. suppressed the rush of hormones.
until recently.
to think all it took was a pretty face and a sweet smile to crumble your resolve. smash it to smithereens. much like the way you want him to ruin your innocence—to mold you into his perfect little doll.
you close the door to the confessional a tad too hard, a startled yelp resounds through the wooden enclosure.
you kneel, making the sign of the cross then clasping your hands together the words you've uttered numerous times before fall out easily, "forgive me, Father, for i have sinned..."
the vague mirage of a man is visible through the partition.
his silken voice floats over to you, "what sins are you repenting for?"
you twist your fingers nervously, blurting out what's been plaguing your mind.
"...i've been having sexual desires towards a classmate."
silence.
in the absence of a response there's a pregnant pause.
now you've done it.
you're going to hell for this. the priest is mentally stoning you to death this instant. should've just kept your filthy, whorish mouth shut.
"ah-... hahaaa..." his airy laugh catches you off guard.
this isn't a laughing matter. your heart thumps wildly in your chest, dreading the reprimanding that never comes.
"... is that all?" he continues when you don't speak, too cavalier.
his voice is wavering, much like a man experiencing pleasure—your nightly searches into the depths of the internet provided that knowledge, things of such your impressionable mind shouldn't be privy to. which couldn't be true.
an overactive imagination warping your thoughts into lecherous territory.
the image of him, leaking cock in hand on the opposite side of the booth flashes behind your eyes. your stomach flips, pressing your thighs together to hinder the heat threatening to drown you.
"uh... isn't this where you advise me to rebuke those urges?" you question, haltingly, worried you might be overstepping your bounds.
an obscene slurping noise pierces your psyche.
"come now, my child, i know above all else, what's best for you."
rustling resumes from the other side, slick sounds and muffled gagging that could only mean one thing.
blood rushes up your neck, warmth crawling up your skin, embarrassed and flustered. the walls have eyes, judging you for listening. for enjoying the firsthand exposure, even if it's not you in the act.
that... this is exactly what you came to be forgiven for. for wanting, for lusting and letting it fester in your soul, opening yourself up to depravity.
is this God's doing?
a test given to prove your faith?
if it is you're certain to fail. all the telltale signs are all there: the dampness seeping into your panties, elevated heart rate, and the devastatingly, morbid curiosity of what cock tastes like.
what he tastes like.
your hand finds your rosary, gripping it tightly in spite of your tumultuous musings. "and what, is best for me?"
a clear laugh rings out, "punishment for your sins, of course."
you swallow, chest tightening, gaze fixed on the tiny bit of his face you manage to glimpse. there's a buzzing—no, ringing—in your ears, like a mosquito is orbiting your skull.
in this lapse of hearing a hushed conversation takes place on the other side of the wall; up you get. are you serious? go on— kicking me out? yes.
sharp raps snap you out of your daze, "let's talk outside. shall we?"
the man steps out from the booth, cataclysmically beautiful, even with the scar marring the side of his face, the very definition of beauty—rivaling even the angels themselves.
fractures of light catch on his ashen hair, the stained glass windows carve him in a kaleidoscope of colors, flyaways ending in sharp points resemble horns ruptured from bone.
you swear you see the gates of heaven in his eyes, golden halos that damn the blind—praying to never, ever come back down to earth.
"Father..."
"tamsy," the man corrects, entwining your hands and towing you after him. loose robes brush the floor, treading carefully as to not step on his garments.
you're unsure of what's happening.
administering punishments isn't what is spiritually permitted in the church.
yet a smaller, darker, part of your brain is willing—to break that sacred rule.
Father tamsy sits on the pew, carefully guiding you to lay atop his thighs. perched on the apex of his crotch, ass positioned perfectly to receive a well-earned spanking.
and maybe, if you weren't so blinded by the invigorating thrill you'd have seen it. spotted the lone, shadowed figure of a woman crawling out of the confessional—emerging from the side tamsy had occupied.
murderous glare thrown your way as you occupy the attention of the false prophet.
tamsy on the other hand pays her no mind, solely focused on teasingly dragging his hand up the slope of your ass. with it he hitches your clothes up, panties on full display for him.
the chill leaves you quivering, on edge and turned on.
"you are aware of my intentions, are you not?" tamsy asks, toying with the hem of your underwear. not quite sliding underneath, but dangerously close.
"i accept my punishment."
"do you now?" he whispers, impish grin spanning across his features.
the warmth of his palm rests squarely on your cheek, then it's gone.
SMACK!
his hand comes crashing down, the impact burns.
truly he didn't hold in the slightest. tears already begin to prick your eyes.
"count for me, dove."
"... one."
one for letting your attraction get out of hand.
"good."
thwack! "two."
two for allowing lust into your heart.
the wood of the pew is unforgiving on your elbows, skin rubbing along the hard surface with every crack of his palm.
"is this how a good, church-going young woman should behave?" he questions, tapping your backside to make his point.
no.
it certainly isn't.
someone with higher morals wouldn't be so easily swayed.
humiliation cuts deep. a barbed wire around your throat as your grapple with your own failings.
"letting any man touch you so."
"not just any man..." you reply, white hot shame burning in your veins.
"hmm?~" tamsy hums, a pleased little sound rumbling in his throat, "so just me then?"
whack! his hand barrels down, pain licking up your backside.
"not that classmate you so carelessly mentioned?" he chides, "count."
"three," you whimper, silently nodding your head. tamsy erased the existence of any others, occupying every corner of your mind.
"you deserve this, don't you?" the words are spoken just before tamsy's hand comes down again. jolting your whole body, lit like a live wire, the aftershocks ripple up your spine.
"four," you grit out, lip puffy and sensitive from being trapped between teeth, "yes, Father."
you hear rather than see the smirk, the puff of air billows around you like smoke. and those eyes, that track you as a wolf hunts the lamb.
"such innocence ruined by earthly desires..." he muses aloud, by now you're trembling, shaking like a leaf on his lap. bottom lip wobbling as you fight back sobs. his hand, soft and large, smooths over your ass, egregiously 'wiping' the hurt away.
the grand father clock ticks somewhere amidst the corruption taking place, woefully holding you present even as your head lulls. peeks of saliva streaming past the seam of your lips.
time blends into a haze, his angelic voice tethering you to reality.
"hngh —fourteen!" you cry out.
tamsy clicks his tongue, "incorrect, that was fifteen..." he admonishes, shaking his head with thinly veiled disdain.
your vision blurs, swallowed whole by salty tears that flow like wine.
tamsy's hand glides down, cozying up between your cheeks.
"have you ever touched yourself here?" he asks, fingers slipping down between your thighs. brushing ever so softly along your drooling slit.
"n-no..." you whimper, the mix of pain and arousal combat each other in your head.
"shall i show you how?"
you start to shake your head, but your panties are already being yanked to the side, the pads of his fingers gliding along your syrupy, dripping cunt.
just that touch alone has you keening.
it's such a foreign sensation.
something you know you shouldn't want, but so desperately need.
he inserts one finger into your virginal walls, and you gasp at the pressure.
it's nothing like you thought it would be.
so, so much better. his fingers are thicker and longer than your own after all. can reach deeper parts, dig out your deepest desires.
tamsy doesn't give you time to adjust before a second finger is joining the fun.
pace increasing tenfold.
thin long fingers plunge in hard and fast, muddling your insides, just to pull out and admire the sight. your adorable tear streaked face, the mess you've—he—made, your weeping pussy fluttering from the loss.
sticky strings of your arousal cling to his digits, dripping down to his wrist.
with every wet slap of contact pornographic moans filter out from parted lips, "oh— god... nggh," pathetic cries for an unforgiving deity lost on deaf ears.
tamsy will have none of it.
aims to dethrone God, in their place would be him, on the altar that in which you devote yourself.
another finger added, stretched out helplessly as tamsy continues to brutalize that spongy spot inside you. toes curling, back arched, whether trying to squirm away or push back on him is unbeknownst.
that pressure becomes unbearable, like a wire about to snap.
if you dedicate yourself to him, he will repay you in kind. he'll teach you all the ways to succumb to pleasure.
it's from his fingertips that you'll be born anew.
he grips your chin, forcing you to look back at him, "say my name, not his."
"ahhhn— tam... sy..." you moan, clenching down hard around his fingers.
tamsy leans forward to lick the tears off your face, cock throbbing and poking into your stomach. while still holding you captive between his index and thumb, turns your face to regard the image of your God behind the altar.
"he's watching you know, bearing witness to you falling from grace." tamsy laughs wickedly, loving the squeaky sob you let out.
although it's too late.
your walls flutter, a tidal wave of ecstasy lights up your body. gushing clear, hot liquid as you cum violently, never once does he slow or stop pumping his wrist, deliberately fucking you through it.
"atta girl," he scornfully mocks.
he is the devil on your shoulder, deceitfully playing the role—leading the lamb to slaughter.
"as for your penance, i want you to recite ten hail mary's," he starts, pausing long enough to peer down at you splayed across his lap, soaked, reddened cheeks exposed to the drafty breeze in these hallowed halls. lowering his voice so you have to strain to catch it, "...while bouncing on my cock," tamsy murmurs, mirth swimming across his perfect features.
this isn't right. yet the wetness that continually leaks out from your wanton pussy is answer enough on its own.
"i— i couldn't possibly..." you groan, still shaking from your explosive release. but there's a fire in your eyes. coveting. yearning for a bite.
tamsy knows he's got you on his hook.
"it'll be our little secret," tamsy coos, already dragging your thigh to rest over his, straddling his lap, the heat of his erection digs into your softest spot, nary a complaint lodged to your current predicament.
he's pulling the strings, making you dance like a puppet. he'll be the reason you get dragged down to hell.
tarnishing you with his undying infatuation.
divider credits to: @/enchanthings (line divider), @/chrisssiren (tiny moths) ++ @/pagedgaps (white n gold moth)
