✞ 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)
do you trust me? [tamsy caines x fem!reader insert]
song inspiration: my boi —billie eilish
author's note: mild spoilers. just read at your own risk. I apologize if tamsy is ooc.
warnings: just fluff.
synopsis: in which tamsy wants you to trust him.
"Do you trust me?"
You didn't trust Tamsy as far as you could throw him. But that didn't stop your foot from slipping and your body from tipping backwards. Before your instincts could kick in, before your skull could meet the ground, you felt gravity stop. You didn't open your eyes until you felt his breath tickling your cheeks.
Tamsy.
He was so close, yet so far away. A glimmer of an upside down smirk rested on his lips, stretching the marks on his face. Marks you didn't have the courage to stare at until now.
"Where'd you get those scars from?" You asked, remaining upside down as Tamsy's effortless hold on your shoulders kept you only a few inches from the ground. You didn't know what compelled you to ask such a question at a time like this, but it was all you could think to do to keep yourself from staring into his questionable gaze.
"The less you know, the better," he said, as the world turned right side up and did a 180. Tamsy straightened your posture, his tall frame reminding you how small you were in comparison—even with a pair of skates on. Automatically, your hands gripped onto the fabric of his long attire to keep you from slipping again. He lifted a brow at this, though the ends of his lips curved upwards. You felt his hand brush at an imaginary wrinkle on your shoulder. "We can just count your misstep as a...necessary trust fall," he whispered before you released him.
You furrowed your brows as you grabbed onto a nearby rail to keep your balance. "Thanks for catching me, but I wouldn't exactly call me nearly breaking my neck on these skates a trust fall." You grunted as you managed to get into a comfortable standing position after a couple of seconds of wobbling to your feet. You gripped the rail with both hands, knuckles tense. "Nor, would I call it necessary."
Tamsy shrugged, lanky arms at his sides. "Mistakes are inevitable," he said as he glided near you, "But, otherwise necessary."
You lifted a brow. "I don't think you're making any sense."
"Says the cleaner with two left feet." Tamsy tapped your left skate with his right one as he pulled up to next to you. Without so much as a warning, he looped his arm through yours, prompting you to lean against his tall frame. He gently tugged you from the rail. You let go of it reluctantly, your breath hitching.
For a while you both glided across the ground throughout town. With every wobble, your grip on Tamsy's arm tightened. Passing over rocky terrain was like riding a roller coaster, but Tamsy never once let you fall. In fact, he seemed a little too relaxed. So much so, that he would hum or chuckle every so often at your soft gasps that derived from your occasional imbalances.
"You're a natural."
You took his compliment with a grain of salt. Within months of knowing Tamsy, you had already figured him out to be a snake. A garden snake or a rattlesnake—you still weren't quite sure which suited him best.
"I mean it," he clarified, lips going into a straight line, though his eyes still remained aglow like a month to a flame. You two eventually came to a slow halt, your free hand finding the corner of a brick wall. "Putting on the skates was half the battle. You practically won the war, y/n."
"And I only fell once," you pointed out.
"And you nearly fell once," he corrected proudly as he slid to the ground next to you while you were already reaching for your laces. "That's pretty impressive."
"Well, I had an interesting teacher."
You both held each other's gaze at this. Tamsy's fingers had somehow found their way to your skates, hovering over one of the bunny ears that kept them secure there. Your fingers lingered on the other loop of the lace— halfway undone.
Tamsy shrugged nonchalantly. "You have passion, which makes teaching a lot easier," he said with a friendly grin. He looked down at your skates, his forefinger now wrapped around the loop he was holding. "May I?"
With a quiet nod, you leaned back against the brick wall as Tamsy took it upon himself to untie your skates. You didn't realize how tightly they had been secured to your feet until the loops were undone. It was mere seconds before your socked feet were resting on solid ground again.
"We should do this again sometime," You said as you gathered both skates with one hand and sat them next to you. Tamsy had managed to squeeze closer to you, the sliver of dirt between you no longer visible.
"Only if you promise to say you'll trust me."
"Fine," you said with a playful roll of your eyes, despite the truth you were hiding in your gut. "I trust you, Tamsy Caines."
the winter air cuts across your naked skin, fingers and toes long since numb to the cold.
your chest rises and falls too fast. white clouds misting in front of your face. everything hurts. every breath burns, like ice is growing through your very insides.
this was supposed to be a quick trip to the store.
yet you never made it.
along the way you met a man.
met is the wrong word.
dragged away is more precise. a warm hand on your wrist, a feigned sense of safety and security.
now the skin on your knees is binding into the concrete. becoming one. the icy contact holds you hostage as much as his fallacious smile.
"you're shivering," he coos, feigned sincerity and charm.
"because of yo—"
your head snaps violently to the side from the force of his hand connecting with your cheek.
he clicks his tongue, "now now, where are your manners?"
you taste blood, your ears ring and there's an ache in every muscle, every fibre of your being is tensed and ready to flee. to dash home, to be free of that all-knowing look in his hollow eyes.
tamsy brings his hand close, you flinch instinctively.
he pulls back, just for a moment, then swipes his thumb along the torn skin.
a drop of your blood remains, promptly slotted between his lips and licked clean as if it were a delicacy. a treat specially made for him. the reaction is a full body shiver, a deep rumbling groan and the now obvious strain in his pants.
it's not like you wanted to notice.
it was right in your face.
forced to your knees on the cold, hard ground by your captor.
"wha— ha... whadya wan wi—me?" you ask dumbly, teeth chattering so hard that the words barely make a lick of sense.
tamsy hums, crossing his arms in thought. you can feel the warmth of his body, the traitorous notion of snuggling up to him passes through your mind.
anything would be better than having your whole torso exposed to the elements, tits spilling free from the tattered remains of what was once your shirt.
what. the. fuck?
"i want to save you," he says finally, a malicious glint in his eyes.
"s-save me?" you mentally curse your stuttering, nearly biting through your tongue with every twitch of your jaw.
"come now," tamsy says gleefully, extending his hand out to you. your eyes fixate on his pinky, how it ends short. cut off and stitched back up.
he doesn't wait for your response.
not that you could get words out in this sorry state regardless.
tamsy pulls you sharply to your feet, a piercing scream is ripped from your lungs.
skin left in the ice.
blood swells and drips down your legs, pooling hot and fast in your boots.
with zero regard for your pain, tamsy spares no time, giving you no chance to fight back as he all but drags you to God only knows where.
footsteps muffled by the soft crunch of snow, blood etched in the crisp, polar powder.
a laugh grazes your earlobe, soft and crazed.
"hopefully you won't break as easily as the last one..." he whispers, lost in the hush of night.
your vision blurs, growing dark at the edges.
from one second to the next, you're crashing down to earth, then hoisted into arms that burn hotter than magma. the chill of your body revolts against the contact. tamsy drapes his cloak over you, finally preserving your modesty—despite being the reason you were exposed in the first place.
the rapidly falling snow cover your tracks, aiding to your disappearance.
just before the darkness fully pulls you under you catch his voice, heart seizing up.
"i'll warm you up, nice and properly, at home."
author's note: not proofread ♡ speedran this nd wrote it in an hour, so if it's sloppy that's why! might edit later 🤷
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 ♡
