#MY ATTENTION IS HAD

[t-wordiiish]

Ticklish sinner

"Andrea," Sister Margaret called out, her voice echoing through the empty hallways of the school, "You're going to be late for confession again."

Andrea's heart skipped a beat. She had been avoiding Father James for weeks, but the guilt was too much. She quickly gathered her books and rushed towards the chapel, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

"Bless me, Father," she murmured, sliding into the confessional. She took a deep breath, feeling the coolness of the wooden booth envelop her.

Father James cleared his throat. "What brings you to the house of the Lord today, my child?"

Andrea paused, fidgeting with the strings of her rosary. "It's… it's been a while since my last confession," she began, her voice shaky. She listed her sins - the usual missteps - but her mind kept wandering to the one she dared not speak of. The one that made her skin crawl just thinking about it.

As she stumbled through her confession, she could almost feel his eyes on her through the mesh screen. It was a feeling she knew all too well, a feeling of both fear and… something else she couldn't quite place.

When she finished, she waited, her heart pounding in her chest. The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, Father James spoke. "Andrea," he said, his tone firm but not unkind, "Is there something else you wish to confess?"

Her eyes widened. How did he know? She had been so careful to avoid any mention of her secret sin. "No, Father," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.

The priest sighed heavily. "Very well," he said, "Your penance is to say five Hail Marys and reflect on the consequences of your actions."

As she left the confessional, the weight of her unspoken truth lingered in the air. Little did she know, Father James had a very particular way of dealing with sinners like her.

Days later, after evening mass, Father James called her aside. His eyes gleamed with a knowing look that sent a shiver down her spine. "Andrea," he began, his voice low and measured, "I believe we need to discuss something in more detail."

Her stomach twisted into knots. He knew. He had to know. "What is it, Father?" she asked, feigning innocence.

He led her to the small, dimly lit room at the back of the church, usually reserved for private meetings and counseling sessions. Once inside, he closed the door with a firm click. "Andrea," he said, his voice now gentle yet firm, "You've been hiding something from me, haven't you?"

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She nodded, unable to find the words to explain.

Father James took a step closer, his hands folded in front of him. "Sin is a serious matter," he said, his gaze never leaving hers, "But I believe in redemption. And sometimes, a different form of penance is needed to truly understand the gravity of one's actions."

Without warning, he reached out and brushed his fingers lightly over her ribs. She gasped, her body jolting with the sudden sensation. "You're very ticklish, aren't you?" he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Andrea nodded, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"Good," he said, his smile growing wider, "This will be your penance."

And so it began. Every week, after confession, Father James would take her to the back room, where he would explore her most sensitive spots with a feather-light touch. Her ribs, her inner thighs, her armpits, and sides - he found them all. He would pin her down with surprising strength or tie her to the chair, leaving her at his mercy.

The tickling was torturous, a delicate dance of pleasure and pain that left her breathless and begging for mercy. Yet, she never told anyone. It was a secret shared between the two of them, a twisted form of redemption that only seemed to fuel her desire to sin further.

Andrea's sins grew in number and intensity. Each week, she would confess the same transgressions, hoping that Father James wouldn't notice the pattern. But his eyes were sharp, and he saw right through her.

One fateful day, as she sat in the confessional, her voice grew quieter with each sin she admitted. Father James's patience had reached its end. "You're not taking this seriously, are you?" he said, his voice hardening.

Her heart raced as she tried to explain herself, but her words fell flat. She knew she couldn't hide from the truth anymore. "No, Father," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, "I'm not."

With a nod, he stood from his chair and opened the door of the confessional. "Come with me," he instructed, his eyes cold. She followed him into the back room, her legs trembling.

He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. She did so, her eyes darting around the room for any sign of escape. Father James leaned over her, his face stern. "Today, your penance will be different," he said. He took a step back and reached for the rope that was coiled on the table behind him.

Andrea's eyes widened as he began to tie her wrists to the chair, pulling them taut above her head. "Father, please," she pleaded, but he didn't listen.

Once she was secured, he stepped back and began to unbutton her shirt. She squirmed, trying to protest, but her words were cut off by a firm hand over her mouth. He chuckled, the sound sending a chill down her spine.

With her shirt open, he revealed her bare armpits. His eyes lit up with a gleeful malice she had never seen before. "You've been a very naughty girl," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.

He brought his fingers to her armpit and began to tickle her gently. She bit her lip to stifle the laughter, but it was no use. Her body was a symphony of giggles and squirms, and she felt the tears start to flow.

Father James tickled her relentlessly, his fingers dancing over her sensitive skin. "You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his voice mocking. "You enjoy the feel of my hands on you, even though you know it's wrong."

The more she struggled, the more he tickled. The more she begged, the harder he laughed. Her cries grew louder, turning into sobs. "Please, Father," she whimpered, "I'll be good, I promise."

But Father James was not so easily swayed. He continued his cruel ministrations, enjoying every second of her torment. "You'll learn," he said, his voice cold and unforgiving, "You'll learn to control your urges, or you'll find yourself in this chair again."

The room spun as the tickling grew more intense, the lines between pleasure and pain blurring until she didn't know which was which. Her body was a bundle of nerves, each giggle a silent scream for relief.

Finally, when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he stopped. She slumped in the chair, her breathing ragged and her eyes red from crying. He leaned in close, his expression unreadable. "Remember this feeling," he whispered, "Whenever you're tempted to stray from the path of righteousness."

He took her hand, his grip firm, and placed her index finger on the tender skin of her inner thigh. "Now, tell me," he demanded, his voice like a serpent coiling around her soul, "Tell me what you are."

Andrea's eyes searched his, desperate for a way out of this twisted game. But she found only determination in his gaze, a gleam that told her he was enjoying every moment of her discomfort.

"Say it," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. "You're my tickle toy."

Andrea's eyes widened in horror. She had never felt so humiliated in her life. But the desperation to end this torment won out over her pride. With a trembling voice, she whispered the words. "I… I'm your tickle toy."

Father James leaned back, his smile widening. He took her hand and guided her index finger along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Say it louder," he urged, his eyes gleaming. "Say it like you mean it."

Her voice trembled as she repeated the words, the humiliation burning in her chest. "I'm your tickle toy," she murmured.

Father James's smile grew even wider. He stepped back, his eyes raking over her exposed body, and nodded. "Good girl," he said, his voice a velvety purr. He reached out and gave her sides a few final squeezes, the pressure just shy of painful.

Andrea gritted her teeth, trying not to react to the onslaught of tickles that danced along her ribs. Her entire body was a mess of nerves, begging for release. She felt a strange mix of fear and arousal, unsure how to process the situation.

With a final pat, he released her. She stumbled to her feet, her legs wobbly from the intense tickling. She quickly pulled her shirt back together, tucking it into her skirt to regain some semblance of dignity.

The priest stepped back, his gaze never leaving hers. "Remember, Andrea," he said, his voice a warning, "You come to me for confession and penance, or I'll find you."

What I wouldn't GIVE TO BE ANDREA FUCKKKK

[blabberoo]

;]

[chanceofwhat]

I created a pile of cats and then I colored the pride flags into it. Idk, enjoy. Don’t “steal” them ig, but like, you can share them, just don’t say you made ‘em. Whatever, my signature’s on it.

Yay pride month!

Update: there are more! I reblogged with the extras but I don’t think many people have seen, so here: https://www.tumblr.com/chanceofwhat/753498899252150272/dang-yall-love-this-thanks hope that link works lmao

[fawnduu]

Offering a moment of healing with a beautiful trans woman 💗

edit: i had to break out the arizona cans because no fun is allowed

le sigh....we cringe on

[chloesimaginationthings]

So that FNAF 2 movie teaser huh,,

[heynhay]

do u guuys remember how huge lovebug was. back in ye days.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Personally, I think the most devastating tragedy in Gravity Falls was Stan losing his freckles and tooth gap from when he was younger

[soldrawss]

Part 2 finally! Part 3 to come soonish,,,

You can find part 1 here!

[teenagenutant]

hi! i finally updated my fic pressure bomb so. doodles +lil' comic for chapter 3 & 4 ^^

[karlydraws]

Yeehaw-verse

: let's get this already western themed media more western

Showdown at Gunsmoke

Ruby Ryder

(I know this rifle isn't going to work but I had to incorporate a cross somehow... I lack imagination )

[micamone]

hewwo

[metalmachination]

hey. your legs are on backwards?

[spellbird]

"Illumination Legend of Zelda isn't real, it can't hurt you!"

Illumination Link:

[flashhwing]

also adding onto that when people on here are like Did Nobody Pay Attention During History Class? the obvious answer is No, We Did Not Because We We’re Kids/Teenagers and Who Pays Attention In Class???

[sporeclan]

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This one goes out to all the Finchpaw fans out there

[voidzpng]

yeah…