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keegansshark · 2 months

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birthday girl cherry here with a wee request about my favorite scot <33 i NEED a little something about birthday sex with soap. preferably nasty, feral fucking 🫣 totally up to you, but i would love it if the piece included face licking, squirting, and elements of a breeding kink :3

love you and your writing!! <333

cw: 18+, minors dni, fem!reader, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, squirting, dirty talk, spit, face licking, breeding kink, creampie, porn with plot, johnny is very horny (this is a warning in itself)

summary: birthday sex and johnny's a freak

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy birthday sweet girl <3 love you so much

“I really don’t kno’ why ye dressed up so nicely anyways.”

“Huh?” You nearly choke on the bite of food in your mouth, staring at Johnny incredulously from across the table. “Of course I’d dress up, it’s my birthday dinner.”

“Ah know it is. You look like an angel. And now I’ll have tae tear that pretty little dress off of ye so I can ruin ye.” Johnny sighs, completely nonchalant as your mouth drops open at the bluntness of his words.

“Johnny. We’re in public.” you hiss, feeling your face heat up as he flashes that classic MacTavish grin at you. You’re very much in public at a very expensive restaurant that he insisted on taking you to, but that doesn’t deter him from running his mouth. In fact, he might even see it as encouraging.

“And?” he counters, beaming brighter when your glare turns more into a warning. “Dinnae act like it’s a mystery on what we’re gonna do tonight.”

“You’re awful, Johnny.” you mutter, downing the last of your water as you lean back in your chair. “Can’t spend one evening without you thinking with the wrong head.”

He hums contently, pleased at the way he riled you up. That was his plan all along. It’s working. “Never did tell me what ye wanted for yer birthday.” He’s quick to switch the subject, knowing it’ll get you even more flustered.

“What I want is for you to have some manners.” The waiter swings by the table to drop off the bill and you thank whoever is watching out for you that Johnny knows enough to keep his mouth closed for just a few moments.

“You wound me, sweetheart.” He mockingly clutches his chest, chuckling when you kick him under the table. “Not my fault that looking at ye makes me think such dirty thoughts all the time.”

He tilts his head, clearly weighing the consequences of whatever he’s going to say next.

“It’s also not my fault you look so gorgeous I cannae help but imagine all the ways I’m gonna fuck ye.”

You swallow roughly as he tosses a few bills onto the table, quickly standing up to wrap his arm around your shoulders and direct you out of the restaurant.

He leans in while you make the walk to his car, nipping at the shell of your ear and making you gasp. “And if you keep looking like that, I’ll simply have to take ye right in the backseat, bonnie.”

You don’t even make it past the living room. You’re lucky you make it past the front door.

Johnny unceremoniously shoves you onto the couch the second both of you step inside your house, hiking your dress over your stomach and gripping the delicate lace of your panties to fully tear it off of you.

“Och, dinnae act like ye aren’t aware I’ve already bought a couple new pairs for ye.” he scoffs when he’s met with your unimpressed glare. “Besides, I think ye look better this way. Don’t need anything covering up what’s mine.”

Any argument you have against that dies the second he grabs onto your thighs, the rough calluses of his fingers digging into your soft skin as he lifts one leg over his shoulder to bury his head right into your pussy.

“Yer lucky it’s yer birthday,” he huffs, nose bumping against your clit as he practically drools in between your thighs, his saliva mixing with the slickness you can feel is already coating your cunt. “The way you looked back there, if only ye could’ve seen how hard I was. Wanted tae, fuck, wanted tae pull you right into that restroom, bend you over the sink and fuck ye stupid. Only thing stopping me was wanting to be polite on yer special day.”

“You’re an absolute freak, y’know that Johnny?” you laugh breathlessly before it dissolves into a moan, your hand threading through his mohawk as he presses his lips against your clit and latches on, a few simple sucks making your hips jerk involuntarily.

“I can be worse. So much worse.” He has been worse. Will definitely continue to be worse too, but he’s feeling generous today. It’s evident through the way he noisily laps at your cunt, acting like a man starved as he uses his thumbs to spread your folds and flatten his tongue against them.

“Good thing we didnae have cake yet,” he groans against your pussy, his tongue quickly collecting all the slick of your arousal before he lowers it to press inside your entrance, curling it a few times before lifting his head again. “Got the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in yer pussy right here.”

He stares up at you with those delicate baby blue eyes of his, letting out a moan of his own as your fingers in his hair form a fist and you tug him back up to your clit. “If only ye could see yourself right now. So beautiful when yer getting yer pussy ate.”

You whimper, grinding against his face as he alternates between suckling and nipping at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you as you feel yourself rapidly approaching the first orgasm of the night.

“You’re close, aye? Can feel you clenching on my fingers, so fuckin’ greedy.” He leans directly over your clit, opening his mouth as a fat load of spit covers over the swollen bud and his thumb rubs against it to make a sticky mess out of your pussy. “It’s yer goddamn right to be greedy, especially today. I’m gonna need ye tae cum for me, sweet girl, need to kno’ I’m making ye feel good.”

The filth coming out of his mouth coupled with the way his fingers are thrusting inside of you perfectly are what sends you over the edge, crying out sharply as your fluids drench his face, leaving your thighs trembling against his head as he eagerly uses his tongue to clean up all of your cum left on your pussy.

“Gonna make ye do that again. Makes me lose my fuckin’ mind when you squirt on me like that.” he sighs, leaning back as he wipes the slick glistening on his chin and licks his fingers clean. You immediately prop yourself up to reach for his belt, letting out a low whine when he gently moves your hands away.

“Quit yer fretting, you’ll get my cock. Just not here. Need tae fuck ye proper, cannae do it on a couch. C’mon, love.” Johnny swiftly hooks his arm around your waist to toss you over his shoulder, rolling his eyes and landing a soft smack to your ass when you squirm in his grasp. “Dinnae give me that, I’ll manhandle you any day of the year. Nothing you can do about it.”

You bite back the ‘yes sir’ on the tip of your tongue, not wanting to boost his ego even more as he carries you to your room. “I’m more than capable of walking up some stairs, Johnny.”

“Won’t be doing any walking once I’m done with ye.” he retorts, kicking open the bedroom door and dropping you onto the bed. “Won’t be doing much of anything if I can help it. If I haven’t fucked ye till yer legs are shaking and yer heads empty then I didnae do my job correctly.”

“Is that a promise?” you ask softly as Johnny moves to unzip your dress, your hands working in tandem to unbutton his shirt, the collar of which is now completely soaked with your juices.

“It’s a given,” is his short response as he tugs your dress off of you, tossing it to the floor as you finally lose your patience and rip the rest of his buttons open. You let him shrug his shirt off to join your dress on the floor before staring down at the bulge evident in his dress pants.

“Christ, baby,” you mumble, fingers moving swiftly to undo his belt and shove his pants down to his thighs. There’s already a wet patch against his boxers, and you appreciate it as long as you can before you’re pushing them down as well to watch his erection spring up against his stomach.

His dick is mouthwatering, if you’re being completely honest with yourself. A fat pearl of pre-cum already leaking from his tip, dripping against his abdomen. It must be throbbing, aching at being neglected for so long.

“I did all that?” you breathe out, wrapping your fingers around the length of his cock to pump up and down slowly. “Just from eating me out?”

“Fuckin’ hell, you do this just from seeing you.” he inhales briskly, staring down at you jerking him off before he softly directs your hand away. “Cannae lie, eating that sweet pussy of yours definitely helped me too.”

He fully tugs down his pants and boxers, kicking them off towards the pile of clothes as he crawls up towards you.

His mouth is on yours immediately, his middle and ring fingers finding their way back to your pussy and quickly sinking into you. Johnny uses his other hand to guide your head back onto your pillow, allowing his body weight to press you into the mattress as you moan against his mouth. He kisses you sloppily as his lips slot between yours to push his tongue into your mouth and swirl it over yours.

“So pretty, so fuckin’ pretty, baby. My pretty girl.” he croons, his lips trailing down to your neck, practically panting as his tongue laps at your pulse point. “Ye drive me crazy. Every time I fuck ye I’m thinking about when I get to make you cum again. Yer always on my mind, I swear tae you.”

His words being both simultaneously dirty and praising make your head spin, and at first it barely registers that his mouth is moving from your neck. “Johnny, fuck…” you groan, nose scrunching as he drags his tongue across your cheek and leaves a trail of spit in it’s path. “You’re no better than a dog.”

“Can bark if ye want.” he grunts in response, not giving you any warning before spitting against your lips and smearing it around with the tip of his tongue. “Sorry, baby, need my mouth on you. Look so fuckin’ good under me.”

You’d let him do anything to you if he keeps fucking you like this, even if it’s just his fingers for now, and you have to admit that his tongue feels as good against your face as it does against your pussy. His hand that isn’t currently filling out your cunt moves to your shoulder, pinning you down as he licks all over your face, making your skin coated with his saliva.

Johnny pumps his fingers inside you a few more times, the squelching audible before he slowly pulls them out of you. You whimper at the sudden emptiness before throwing your head back against the pillow at the feeling of his cock grinding against your folds, the sensation making your pussy flutter around nothing.

“Please… please, Johnny.” you cry out, rocking your hips back and forth desperately in an attempt to get any friction possible.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he murmurs as he grips his cock, tapping the head against your clit and slathering your slick all over it. “Birthday girl still has to use her words.”

“Please fuck me already.” you whine, your nails digging into his biceps as you spread your legs wider around his hips. “Need you to fuck me, please.”

“Never get tired of hearing that.” He drags his cock against your pussy a few more times to gather up as much wetness as he can before finally pressing himself into you. You feel your cunt stretching around his girth to accommodate him, his tongue and his fingers having prepped you well but never enough for how thick he is.

His thrusts start slow and gentle, but Johnny isn’t a patient man, nor does he feel like holding himself back tonight. He lifts his leg up to reposition himself, before completely pounding his cock into you. It’s almost animalistic the way he loses himself in you, making you cling to him as your thoughts are consumed solely by Johnny and the way he’s making you feel. You breathe heavily, forcing your eyes open as you stare up at him.

Johnny looks as ravished as you feel; mohawk tousled from your fingers running through it and damp from sweat, his pupils blown out you almost can’t see the blue behind them. The thick, rough pads of his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he fucks you without hesitation, pushing himself as deep as he’s able to he watches the way your cunt keeps sucking him back in.

You feel him everywhere, his cock spearing you open while one of his hands moves to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan and he uses the opportunity to spit directly into your mouth, feeling it coat your tongue as you make eye contact while you swallow.

That must’ve set something off in him, because you’re instantly rewarded with him fucking you so perfectly it makes you see stars. “Just like that, Johnny! Right there, right-”

He cuts you off as he grips your hips harder to angle himself deeper, the head of his cock hitting the spongy spot inside of you perfectly. “Yeah, yeah, I kno’. Right there. Acting like I don’t kno’ yer pussy inside an’ out, like I haven’t made this pretty pussy my fuckin’ home.”

He leans down, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Think ye forgot I practically molded yer cunt to my liking, bonnie.” he whispers, his hips smacking against your ass with another thrust as if to prove his point. “Believe me, pretty girl, there’s nothing about you I haven’t memorized yet. And that includes all the ways I get tae make ye cum.”

His hand moves from your breast to your stomach, gently kneading your skin as he continues to pump into you. “Wanna cum inside ye. Figured out what tae get you as yer gift.” He meets your eyes as he rubs soft circles against your stomach, smirking as he feels you clench down on him. “Yeah? Wanna have my baby? I’ll make you a mama, don’t even have tae ask.”

You don’t have it in you to reply, your mind feeling fuzzy as you feel the pressure build up inside you again. “Johnny, I’m so close, so so close, I can’t…” you pant, your senses nearly overwhelmed from all the pleasure Johnny’s making you feel.

“I kno’, love. It’s a lot, aye? S’okay, you can be good for me and cum.” he coos, his hand going from your stomach to above your pussy, his thumbing working roughly against your clit.

You arch your back against the mattress with a mewl, his cock and his thumb on your clit working together to send you over the edge. He holds you steady as you squirt for the second time, your juices soaking over the dark curls trailing up his stomach and at the base of his cock.

Johnny fucks you through your orgasm, his own following shortly behind yours. He dips his head to the crook of your neck, sighing out your name as his hips stutter and he finishes inside you, hot ropes of semen coating your pussy as his thrusts slowly slow down. He keeps his cock where it is, allowing his cum to be plugged up in your cunt.

He collapses on top of you, panting and trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. He wraps his arms around your waist, cuddling you tightly as he looks down at you with love in his eyes.

“So good to me. Happy birthday, my girl.” Johnny murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he cradles you against him, your chests rising and falling in unison. “Love you so much. You have a good time tonight?”

“I love you too.” you smile warmly, catching your breath as your lips meet his. “I’m having a great time, Johnny, all thanks to you.” You try to lift yourself up from under him, before feeling his grip against you tighten ever so slightly.

“Where do ye think yer going, bonnie?”

“Don’t you need to take a breather?” you ask quietly, your confusion evident as he shakes his head and guides you back down against the mattress.

“Dinnae think for a second that I’m done with you.” he grunts, pulling his cock out just enough for you to feel his cum run down your thighs and onto the bed sheets before he thrusts into you again. “I’ll make this a birthday to remember.”

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mastermindmp3 · 29 days

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Guilty as Sin? addresses the idea of emotional cheating, about longing for someone outside their current relationship. The speaker describes being in bored in her relationship, and fantasizing about a guy that she is texting* while her lover likely does the same**.

*In my romantic pirate heart, they're pen pals paramours as opposed to texting troublemakers. He "sent" her Downtown Lights, which could easily be read as being sent a streaming link, but I want to believe he sent her a burned tape. **As I've previously said, The Tortured Poets Department is an album in conversation with itself. The mutual emotional infidelity is only really implied by the speaker's questioning her right to be upset within Guilty as Sin? but is made clearer in other places throughout the album. Whether you allow other songs to affect your reading of the song is wholly up to you..

Diversion aside, I think the song touches on this theme very well, and I trust my fellow Department members will provide insights on the song's preferred reading in today's meeting.

In the reception theory of reader responses, a preferred reading is the audience understanding and agreeing with the author's (or producer, or lyricist, etc. ) intended vision for their media. Reception theory also says that readers can take oppositional and negotiated readings. Oppositional readings reject the author's stance entirely, while a negotiated reading may agree in part or whole, but still have their own "take" on the media.

Guilty as Sin? is intended to be about emotional infidelity. For the past few days, I have been analyzing the songs through their preferred reading. Today, I would like to destroy all of that, and present to you my Oppositional Reading of Guilty as Sin?

I know, very well, that the reading I am about to present is not Swift's intent, and indeed, I may be a koi swimming against the river's current. This post is not meant to be me saying that the song is my reading. I am within opposition to the text.

(I guess that technically makes this a negotiated reading? semantics—)

I am about to commit the cardinal sin of reading queer themes into a straight author's work. Crucify me if you please, but do so with the context that I acknowledged that this reading is not "canonical," to continue being biblical about it.

To reiterate, because this is the "how dare you say we piss on the poor" website. I do not believe that my reading is the intended reading of Guilty as Sin?

So:

When reading queer themes into straight work, I feel it is impossible to not draw from personal experience. This post is about Guilty as Sin? but it is also about me. It is about what growing up queer in the rural American southeast is like. It's hard to detangle those things.

I present to the department: A case for Guilty as Sin? as a song of queer longing. Half analysis, half personal essay.

On the surface, I feel this reading can be very simple. When the whole refrain is how can I be guilty as sin? and hegemonic Christian society deems queer love, queer living as sinful, the connection doesn't feel like that hard of a jump. The song travels through its religious theming, through the shame, through hushing yourself with the idea that thoughts don't count. The speaker works through those pains and repressions, so that she can come to the revelation:

What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

What initially got me thinking about this song in a gay way was one of the opening lyrics. ( Well, no, what initially got me thinking this was listening to it as I was writing fiction, but hush. )

This cage was once just fine.

As a bisexual woman, there was once a time where I really, truly, thought to myself that I would never come out. It was fine, to be honest. I still like men, so I just had to pray that my one big love was a man. That way, I could protect myself from my family’s imagined negative reactions. I don't think this is a unique experience, either. Particularly in the south, we hold ourselves in for the comfort of others, and our own safety.

I cannot speak for everyone, but I feel like that fear of rejection is common amongst the people I know. It leads to caging our feelings; locking bits of ourselves away from those who once knew us so closely, in order to preserve their original vision of us. As perfect, straight sons and daughters, as kids who would grow into the molds set forth. And for a while, we can hold together like this, the cage is fine.

But parrots pluck their feathers when kept under lock and key, and so too do we.

I dream of cracking locks, throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks.

Doesn't it feel like that? The first time you consider telling a parent, or any loved one, that you're not what they imagined. Like you could be dashing your chances at life. The image brings to mind that of suicide, of a “I can no longer live like this.” People thrown to the rocks do not survive impact, and often are disfigured, beyond recognition. It's such a visceral image for a song filled with longing.

This song is textually about emotional infidelity, obviously, but I think it can also be about the longing we hold for the "unallowed." How we can both feel such beautiful love and hideous shame about the same thoughts. Repression is a funny thing, to smother the want can only make it come back harder, stronger.

What if I roll the stone away? They're gonna crucify me anyways.

I said that the Christian imagery is part of what made me think of the song as queer, and I stand by it. A lot of queer art deals with the trauma of religion; the idea of being guilty for the way you simply are, for the way you feel, naturally, drives one to consider the opposite. What if our way of being is holy. I'm particularly brought to mind Fipsi Seilern’s Portrait of Virgin Xtravaganzah (and the portraiture's subject - Virgin X - by extension.)

The connection is not hard to make; masturbation, the song’s main premise, is seen as sinful, as is infidelity. And so, too, is being gay. They are shamed the same way in conservative Christian society, as if they are of the same level.

In a way, it's very Christian of me to take a religiously charged song about emotional infidelity and make it about same gender attraction. On the level of infractions to the Christian hegemony, same gender attraction may be worse, truly, than infidelity. That to touch another man or another woman is worse of a crime, than to betray the trust of your opposite gendered partner.

Y'know, as a kid, I used to get nosebleeds every time I entered my family's church. It was high in the mountains of Tennessee, and I was prone to them anyways. It was my first experience with the hemming and hawing of Christian southern women, tsk'ing at me. I think we stopped going when I was like, ten, partially because of it.

And I look back now, and think about all these things I have learned since then. The pain that Christian dogmatism, that bigotry has caused, to me and the communities I love so dearly. Still causes, in the name of saving our souls, or more likely, extermination.

And think about bleeding every time I crossed the threshold into holy ground.

Does that make us all guilty as sin?

Nah. Any guilt we feel is only a consequence of the spoon fed hatred, and certainly no fault of our own.

( It is interesting, that this reading absolves the narrator of the song, where the original text is more ambiguous as to the level of infraction that the Speaker has committed. The answer to "How can I be guilty as sin?" here is more clear, especially to this specific audience. Swift's modern demographics trend towards young, leftist, and AFAB. Additionally, there's probably a whole essay in that idea itself, how queer people are treated with the same ostracism as adulterers. Going further, why are these "sins," a state of being and a social infraction, grouped with far greater transgressions in the Christian consciousness. Were I not a Biology student, that idea alone would be an excellent thesis topic. )

A defense of the idea of Queering Straight Songs:

When my family drove up the mountain to church, I listened to my Fearless disc on a pink Sony brand CD player in the back seat. How often are our first imaginings of queer love to straight media? Through characters or through idealized versions of us or through the music we're allowed, we find ways to feel queer love like sidewalk dandelions. Some call them weeds, but we all know they're flowers, beautiful and beloved, capable of coming back year after year.

We live in an age where queer stories and queer art are so visible, where we can look at Queering the Map and see all the places we are. And will continue to be. And have always been.

I think, in a way, claiming this song about straight infidelity as queer longing is almost a full circle moment, for me. In a time where queer liberties are at risk, we are still so loud and visible. It's nice, in a way, that I don't have to do this.

There are so many wonderful songs about this same longing, about locking your feelings up and bottling them away, by queer artists, even in this same genre. I don't have to stretch to see myself in these songs. They're radio play, they're opening Coachella.

( Also, protect small queer art. Protect bad queer art, too, while we're at it. We are so lucky that so much of queer lives are available at our fingertips, but without archival and protection, it can also be lost. )

I wouldn't say queer people are braver than we've ever been - that's a disservice to the people before us. We have ages of proof that this music, this art, has existed, and repressing it cannot stop it. We aren't any braver than our ancestors, just more widely seen, and more widely heard. Queer music, thanks to the internet, and thanks to wide, social pressure, is louder than ever.

But that doesn't mean we still can't queer the straight music we love too. This entire post (essay, can I call it an essay?) is about reception theory and seeing yourself in the other's work. It's a time honored tradition to make a song about yourself, to make it gay - I played Lover on violin at a lesbian couple's wedding, and my uncles danced at their wedding to Endless Love by Diana Ross.

I leave you with a final story, based on my favorite lyric.

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh, only in my mind?

This line, in particular, made me feel many things, a rush of nostalgia and warmth. I've claimed many celebrities to be my bi awakening, but the first time I remember being attracted to a girl was at the Speak Now tour. She was a bit older than me, maybe 14, and sat across the aisle. Mid-show, she helped me write my favorite lyrics on my arm in the pitch black of Bridgestone Arena. I had seen the lyrics on Taylor's arm and got so excited about the idea, but my mother didn't have a sharpie. She did. In sort of loopy handwriting, she put, "You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter" down my right arm.

With purple glitter glinting off tanned, grinning cheeks, with her Speak Now glowstick hovering over my arm, I don't remember her name, or even if I asked for it. But she was so kind, crinkling eyes black as obsidian, twinkling the stage lights in their reflection, and made me realize exactly why that lyric resonated with me so deeply. How it was what I wanted to be in the future.

And I could see my future with her, or him, or them. And it is impossible to untangle Swift's music from that.

It's all empathy, all the way down. The kind of empathy that, I am not sorry to be corny and say it, Taylor Swift's music begs you to have. To take these songs that are very much written from her perspective, and see our own experiences mirrored through them, that's what her music asks. To see that we are not all that different, and to connect. How rare and mundane human connection, how we rip out our souls to achieve it. Swift's talked about it extensively, the catharsis of spilling ink, putting pen to paper and voice to recording all in effort to be seen.

I think that's the big motif: I feel seen by Guilty as Sin?, I felt seen back then listening to these CDs. That's the sorcery of storytelling. As an adult, who is so comfortable in her bisexuality that I flaunt it, I still like to do these oppositional readings, to see myself in songs not made about me.

And that's why Guilty as Sin? is, to me, a queer longing kind of song. Even if it isn't.

#taylor swift #ttpdminutes #Guilty As Sin?#this one got away from me #anyways this one goes out to my repressed queers it gets better. i promise you it gets so much better.#religion tw #tw christianity #brief mention of suicide #mentions of homophobia #man i realize this aint even ABT the song anymore.#but it would be too on the nose with the theme of this essay if i DIDN'T say these thoughts #queer every song you love. its good for you i promise.#long post

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