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222col · 10 days ago

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⋮ — CRUSH .ᐟ

[ STARLING!DODGE ] && fawn!reader

♱ — BASED ON 'THE STARLING GIRL' (2023). dodge is the pastor's son, and the object of envy for every girl who grew up in the church. but you seem to have captured his attention more than any.

♱ — cw .ᐟ 3k words. smut. 18+. angst. toxic relationship. religious themes. age gap (reader is 18, dodge is 24). vomit. hint/brief mention at dub-con (?). virgin!reader. creampie.

♱ — notes .ᐟ sorry if you didn't want to be tagged on this one, just tagging anyone on challengers taglist bc i never made a dodge one </3

can you read my mind? i've been watching you...

he'd always been there, just distant.

his ghost spoke for him, fathers words preceded him. a distant memory of someone the town once knew, yet the community carried on pretending he was still there. still apart of the family, not a distant memory begging to be remembered.

no one knew he was back, thought he was still coasting along the roads of the country. you often wondered if his father's stories of his missionaries were truth, or the lies told to keep up the image.

you dared question the truth of your pastor, though. never to another hearing soul, those questions stayed buried with the lust within your mind. the few thoughts not even god could hear from your lips. thoughts so shameful you couldn't even utter in prayer.

his father stood the head of the church, only lower to the lord. preaching words of forgiveness, of judgement, of fantasy. today's lesson specific to lust. refusing to give in, not allowing satan into your psyche—to never allow your perversions to grow outside your body.

you felt as though the feelings were coming up—physically—from his words. the guilt too strong to be held in, the words too pointed to allow you calmness.

your feet let you rush through the doors in time, the perversions coming from your body as your vomit hit the ground. the illness reflecting the true sickness within your mind. the lust you were allowing yourself to dream of.

knees to your chest, back dragging down the wall of the beaten church. looking down to the physical manifestation of your unwell, eyes welling up—yet unable to draw your vision away.

"quit lookin' at it."

your head spins, eyes darting up to the man speaking over you. him. the scent from his cigarette wafting into your nose, the smoke hitting your eyes.

"didn't know you were back," you murmur, as though you weren't hyper aware this to be the first words you'd ever uttered to him without company.

"no one does," he speaks, with his final drag—throwing the butt into the pile of sick, which only now embarrasses you to be sat next to.

"don't tell my dad 'bout the smokes."

he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds...

andrew dodge mason.

the first crush you ever had. probably the first crush of every girl at church. the crush went away, as he did, but seemingly came back with a vengeance—in the way he did.

he was working on his father's car as you arrived, skin slightly sweaty from the bike ride over to church. cheeks stained with rosacea, bottom lip chewed—almost to the point of blood.

but there he stood, the image of unholiness to your fascination. cap on backwards, pushing away the wetness of his hair. messy shirt, and old jeans, pack of marlboros sitting in his back pocket, oiled rag in the other.

"can i help you?" he mutters, closing the hood before reaching for his pack of cigarettes. your mouth hung open slightly, before placing your bike up against the wall. hands holding behind your back, as you tentatively walked closer to him.

"guess my secret's safe with you." dodge murmurs, cigarette already placed between his lips. "my name is—"

"i know what your name is," he half laughs, shaking his head as he blows the smoke out from his mouth. "hell, i've known you since you were born."

gulping down the frog in your throat, as you attempt to regain your train of thought. "i was just gonna ask," you start, swinging softly on your heels. "if you'd be willing to lead the youth club, now you're back 'nd all."

his eyebrow raises in response, a smirk ghosting his features.

"just—your dad, he's great 'nd all—" a scoff leaves his lips. "but all he makes us do is bible study, and—and it's not that i don't like that, but—"

"alright, alright." he mutters, the cigarette resting between his lips. his hand lifts up his cap, before running his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. the cigarette moves as he speaks without removing it. "but i ain't doing those camping trips."

something's been feeling weird lately...

it was harder than he thought—ignoring the way you looked at him. not paying attention to the shorter skirts, and bite of your lip. the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, how you always held his eye.

he was older, had power over you, plus his dad would kill him. you'd been promised to his little brother, conversations had started about your courtship. dodge was to focus on his work, his missions, his commitment to god. be ready to take over his father's position when the time did come.

"that was all the wood you got for the fire?" dodge shakes his head, looking to the pitiful excuse of a pile of firewood the group of teens had collected.

pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, as he heads back into the forest. collecting branches and twigs on his pursuit.

"need to pee." you quickly mutter to the girls on your picnic table, before heading in the direction dodge had just travelled. the sun was setting, light barely peeking through the trees.

the branch beneath your foot snaps as you approach, watching the jolt of his body as your presence is announced. "scared me." he speaks, turning to face you behind him.

"sorry," you murmur softly, feet padding closer toward him.

"it's okay." dodge mumbles, his chest rising and falling, mouth parted. his eyes growing darker the closer you get to him.

the air feels heavy, his nerves feel on fire. every bone in his body is telling him to walk away. not listen to whatever it is that you need, to take off running into the forest and be able to avoid you—and his sins—for the rest of his life.

"i just wanted—"

the sound of the twigs hitting the floor seem to echo against the trees, his calloused hands feel rough against your cheeks. lips painfully soft against your own. he takes your breath, swallowing it as his own.

you're sure he could take any part of you, and you'd let him.

"fuck, i shouldn't have done that." his chest heaves, oxygen feels a foreign concept. unable to breathe if he isn't taking the air from your lungs.

"you can do it again, if you like."

i only want him if he says it first to me...

you avoided him like the plague. two whole weeks. not one word. not even a look in his direction.

only left your house for church. the guilt of your sin too heavy upon your chest. no amount of prayers could allow you to forgive yourself. down on your knees, arms rested on your bed—every morning, every night. eyes to the sky, to him. to god.

dodge felt the villain, the perverted. the man who preyed on you. kissed you in the dark. stole your lips as his own. he felt the worst knowing he'd do it again, and again, and again until you begged him to stop.

you didn't notice the note placed in your bible, only as you laid in bed later than night. the piece of paper fell down to your chest as you began to read the holy words.

'midnight. car park behind the lake.'

you trusted him, still. despite the guilt, despite the how scared you were. you trusted him.

the pillows laid cold, the soft snoring of your siblings filled the empty space you'd left behind. the window partly cracked, wind blowing through your escape route.

your feet moved themselves, walked the route when you weren't sure you could. his car the only one there as you arrived.

you couldn't stop yourself from carrying on, too late now to turn around. your hands shook as you opened the passenger door.

"i'm so glad you came." dodge spoke, like a desperate man craving comfort. his arm around the back of your head rest. surprising himself at how unlike himself he'd become.

lusting after you, yearning for the attention you'd given him. driven himself mad with want.

you couldn't speak, not at first. too scared of the words that dared fall from your lips. overcome with perversions, for the man you should never dream of indulging them with.

"you haven't spoke to me," he starts, body leaning closer to your own. "since that night in the woods."

you wince. embarrassed by yourself. how you allowed yourself to satisfy your personal needs with him. let your lips touch his, and crave more.

"i know." you whisper, eyes downcast.

"do you not like me anymore?" he murmurs back, his fingers weaving through your hair. pushing the stray strands behind your ear, coaxing your eyes back to his.

you shake your head no. but even you don't know in which way you mean it.

your eyes finally meet his. the blue of his irises pouring into your own. the fingers caressing your neck slowly move, thumb dancing across your cheek. your mouth involuntarily parting as the pad of his thumb grazes your lower lip.

"you said i could kiss you again," he whispers, face so close only his own thumb separates your lips. "do you still mean it?"

your head has barely nodded before his thumb is moved, lips on yours again. harsher this time, less patient.

"you'd let me do anything, wouldn't you?" he whispers against your lips, before his tongue pushes into your mouth. you whimper at his words, at his movements—at him.

"get in the back."

his words are strong, telling, but still kind. like he could love you, if he tried.

you do. wide eyed and skirt falling so high he could see the cotton of your panties. you're sure you've never wanted anything in your years of existing more than andrew dodge mason.

his body lays above you after climbing over the console. soft, wet kisses placed over every exposed part of your skin. fingers hooking around the sides of your underwear, awaiting your nod before discarding them to the floor.

"you are so beautiful." he whispers, as he undoes the buckle of his belt. old denim jeans pushed down his legs, along with his boxers.

your head was empty, devoid of thought that didn't relate to him. wanting nothing more than him. tonight, tomorrow, forever—you'd be content, with just andrew dodge mason and the backseat of his chevy.

dodge pushes in, gently—his tip barely there, as your eyes widen. the stretch so foreign, so unfamiliar. "you're okay, you're okay." he coos, forehead rested against yours as he slowly slides in, inch by inch.

"shit—so fuckin' tight," he groans, and you hope that's a good thing.

your breaths come out in pants, clutching tight to the fabric of his shirt. he takes that as a sign, as he rips the fabric from his body. despite the comfort the t-shirt was providing you, the feel of his skin beneath your fingers was welcomed.

"dodge, oh—"

the car rocks with his thrusts, building up his pace. his palms against the windows as they begin to fog. "atta girl." he praises, eyes unmoving from your features.

your brows furrowed, jaw slack. his name falling from your lips—like prayer. hips beginning to move in rhythm with his, the volume of his own sounds increasing as you do.

"fuck, gonna come, baby—" dodge stutters, eyes squeezed shut. but your heart skips a beat from the pet name alone. "can i? fuck—can i?"

you're not sure what he's asking. to finish, or to finish within. you'd grant him anything he ever asked.

"please, please, please."

maybe i'll just be crazy, and piss him off 'til he hates me...

every single night. like clockwork.

read your siblings their bedtime stories. shower. wash your face. brush your teeth. say goodnight to your mom and dad. lay awake for two hours. sneak out of the window to meet dodge.

you were addicted. so was he. unable to run from the obsessions clouding your minds. unwilling to see what was happening in it's true light.

your lusts and perversions were repeating every night, and you weren't willing to stop them. would never admit or acknowledge satan had worked his way into your mind, distracted you from god's plan.

11:57 PM. you arrived at the lake. no sign of his chevy nova.

perched upon a rock separating the car park and the woods surrounding, waiting.

12:24 AM. still no sign of the chevy nova.

this happened three nights on the run. he'd become a ghost, no word.

the fourth night, you skipped the lake altogether.

rode your bike over to the church, to the house next door. to his father's house. pissed off, and pent up.

his curtains were open when you arrived, there he sat. feet crossed on his bed, bible in hand. as though that book had ever meant anymore more than his father's love to him.

the vein in his forehead popped when he heard you tap against the glass of his window, jaw clenched, arms crossed against your chest.

"you can't fucking be here."

"i've been waiting for you." you mutter, still quiet despite your anger. knowing you'd be in just as much trouble as he if you were to get caught by the pastor.

"i didn't ask you to do that." the brunette spit, arms tight as he leant through the opened window.

every word he spoke cut you deep. the look in his eyes, as though you were nothing more to him than any other girl at church.

"i thought you liked me."

i owe you a black eye and two kisses...

the annual fourth of july church barbeque. three weeks since you showed up at his house.

serving his mom's potato salad, with that fake smile on his face and cigarettes hidden in his back pocket. flipping burgers on the grill as though his whole being wasn't tearing you in half.

stood with his younger brother, even if you knew it wasn't doing anything. you wanted him jealous. angry. feeling anything about you. but he simply ignored you, kept that smile of his father's on his face.

"leaving in a couple weeks—yeah, back on the road," you overheard him with some friends of his parents. "dad thinks it's time for me to carry on with my missionaries."

your plate quickly shoved into the hands of his brother, wiping your face with the back of your hand as you head straight in his direction.

"you're leaving me?" you mutter, not caring which prying ears could hear.

"not here." he mutters, jaw clenched.

"you don't talk to me for weeks, and then what? leave me without a word?" you carry on, voice only increasing in volume. he's all too aware that people can hear the words falling from your lips.

"stop it, now."

the fireworks come as a welcome distraction, his hand tight on your arm has he drags you away. toward the lake that had become your sanctuary.

"don't fuckin' talk to me like that in front of all those people." his words are harsh, so is the grip he has on your arms.

"you don't fuckin' talk to me at all!"

he wants to shake you, hit you, kiss you, fuck you—all at once.

"i can't speak to you," dodge mutters, eyes almost black as they bore into yours. "i can't be near you, i can't look at you."

you want to cry, to run away from him and this town and never look back. "why?" you dare to ask.

"because i will never leave, never let you go, if i keep doing this."

but he's always had a problem saying no...

everyone found out. his father, your parents, the entirety of the church.

he blamed you. told his father how you seduced him. how satan has worked his way into your mind, taught you his ways of lust and deception.

it was you, or him. and he chose himself.

the church made a mockery of you. forced you to apologise, in front of the whole congregation. to accept your sins, and beg for forgiveness.

before your family, his family—him. you had to stand before them, and explain your lusts. tears fell from your eyes, like a stream of shame as you did.

"i forgive you."

they all stood before you, looked into your eyes—held your hands and forgave you.

"i forgive you." he stood before you, looked into your eyes, and forgave you. forgave you for sins you both committed. that he started. that he wanted.

that he wants.

your bags were packed. ready to be shipped off to wherever it was that your mother and the pastor had decided best. your ears still ringing since the truth was revealed, no words had processed properly since.

eyes bloodshot, shoulders slumped as you waved goodbye to your siblings through the window. turning around to the yard, your mother's car waiting, and—

his chevy nova.

your mother was closing the door, the key in the lock, as dodge remained unnoticed by her.

"i'm sorry—i'm so sorry, please, baby—" he begs, out of the car and walking toward you. "let's leave, you and me—let's just go, and never come back."

your mother quickly turns, anger across her face, as your heart pounds.

the two of you rush to him together, as she heads for him—you head for the passenger side door.

the blood drips from his nose, as your bag is tossed into the backseat. your mother doesn't have time to register, your siblings still watching from the window.

he's laughing—through the blood pouring into his mouth—as his arm rests behind your head rest, reversing out of the drive. with his girl in the front seat.

your life disappears from your view, as you drive at full speed down the road. the thanks for visiting! come back soon! sign is barely a spot in your vision as dodge doesn't slow.

you don't have time to regret it. can't process it. your ears are still ringing. but his hand is in yours, and that feels enough.

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#★ 222col's writing #fawn!reader 𓄃 #starling!dodge ♱#dodge mason x reader #dodge mason x you #dodge mason fic #mike faist #mike faist x reader #panic #panic 2021 #the starling girl #challengers #art donaldson

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222col · 12 days ago

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⋮ — POOL DAY .ᐟ

[ STEPDAD!ART ] && bimbo!reader

౨ৎ — REQUESTED. it was meant to be one night, no more. art could let himself be okay with just one night. but seeing you in that damn bikini by the pool would be his undoing.

౨ৎ — cw .ᐟ smut. 18+. legal (but questionable) age gap. step-cest. use of the word 'daddy'. creampie.

it was downright criminal. the way you were looking, and the way art was feeling about it. his sweet little girl, in the sexiest fuckin' swimwear he'd seen in his life.

you weren't his little girl, not really. your mom still scrunched her nose every time she heard him referred to as your step-dad.

art still felt it, though. in some fucked up way. he still felt like your step-dad. felt the need to protect you, dote on you, take care of you. didn't matter that things had changed, he was still a father figure to you. he'd decided that one night of feeding into his perversions was enough, he wouldn't let himself indulge again.

but god you were makin' it so fucking hard. strutting around in that damn swimsuit, like you were made to ruin his life, and there was nothing he could do about it.

he'd tried so hard, since that night, to force things back to normal. but if you were a tease before, this was hell and heaven combined.

thank god your mom was so fuckin' uninvolved, because even art doesn't know how she can't see it. the way his eyes never leave your body, the water droplets falling from your skin have him damn near drooling.

the sun hitting your skin, the rise and fall of your chest as you laid tanning. art was getting hot and bothered, and it was nothing to do with the weather.

but she was right there. sat next to her trophy husband. blissfully unaware of the looks he was giving her daughter. hidden behind her sunglasses, half-heartedly reading her book between dozes. art forced his eyes forward, ignoring every perverse thought flashing in his mind.

until the feeling of your nails against his chest snap his attention back to you, his eyes widening as he watches you walk toward the house. a quick wink sent his way, only heightening the feelings coursing through him.

"goin' to get a soda!" you murmur sweetly, as you pad inside through the french doors. faintly hearing your mom reply through her half-asleep haze.

his eyes snap to the left, watching the droop of her eyes, before art's own feet are pushing toward the kitchen. his chest tight, swim shorts tighter.

"y'doing it on purpose," he whispers, leaning down to whisper into your ear, your back against his chest. closing the fridge door, smirk on your face as you turn around to him. "aren't you? teasing me like that, in front of your mom."

mischief is written all over your face, with a small shrug of your shoulder. "not doin' anything, daddy."

"what did i say," art begins, unable to hide the smirk on his own face, as his hands hook underneath your thighs. "'bout calling me that?"

his legs are between your own, as he places your body upon the kitchen counter. "you said not around my mom," you murmur, arms sliding around his neck. manicured nails scratching at the base of his neck. "she's not here."

his head falls back with a groan, his own hands clutching at your hips. "she's right there, kiddo," art murmurs, eyes darting to your mom through the window.

"please," you drawl, pulling his body as close to yours as possible. your back arched up to him, hands exploring the bare skin of his torso.

one more quick look out the window, before he's quickly grabbing your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter. "gotta be quiet, princess." he mumbles, freeing his length from his swim shorts. mindlessly nodding your head at his words, breathing heavy at just the sight of him.

bikini moved to the slide, his thumb circling your bud as he holds the fabric out of the way, sliding himself into you. achingly slowly, his breath getting caught in his throat as he bottoms out.

"oh— oh, god," art chokes out, his hips slamming against yours. the sound of skin slapping echoing around the kitchen, disguising the sounds of his moans. "thought you told me to be quiet?" you taunt, nails scratching down his spine.

"shut up." art mumbles, words muffled into your shoulder. his head resting there, almost biting down on your skin. his thrusts increase in pace, eliciting moans from your own lips. his hand moving up to cover your mouth, stifling your sound.

art can already feel his orgasm quickly creeping up on him, the way you're fuckin' squeezing him so tight only pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

his teeth bite down on your shoulder, his back graced with red, stinging scratches. knees hooked over his elbows, angling your body to fuck himself into you deeper. "gonna come, daddy?" you whimper, wet kisses placed along his neck.

"oh, fuuck, babygirl— can't hold it," art whimpers, his load spluttering inside of you. ropes of come dripping onto the fabric of your bikini as he pulls himself out from you. he always had been quick to finish, but god, you made it almost impossible not to bust at the sight of you.

"art, can you get me another glass of wine, please?" you hear your mother shout from her position still poolside. a quick giggle leaves your lips, as you gently kiss art once more on the lips.

adjusting your swimsuit, picking up your soda and heading back outside. "yes, dear!" art stutters as he shouts back, quickly scrambling to get it for her. hands shaking as he walks over to her with the glass, perching upon his sunbed, looking to you in the pool.

"gonna join me, daddy?" you murmur, arms resting on the side of the pool. batting your lashes up to the blonde. art can barely hide the redness on his cheeks, words getting caught in his throat before your mom interrupts.

"you have to stop calling him that." your mom rolls her eyes, as she sips the fresh glass of wine. god, he hopes you never stop.

#★ 222col's writing #bimbo!reader ౨ৎ #bimbo!reader x art donaldson #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #dilf!art #challengers #challengers x reader #mike faist #tw stepcest

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