WHITE LINES 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི PRETTY BABY

Leon didn’t like nosy neighbors.

For someone whose life has always been ruptured by the hostility of his past, all he wanted was tranquility in his home.

And he couldn’t even get that.

Not when a girl half his age would pester him around the cheap trailer park whenever he went out for fresh air or for anything else that required him to leave the house.

“What’cha doin’?” This, “Can I come?” That. You were basically like a puppy trailing after him, no matter what he was busy with. Leon wasn’t dumb. He knew you had a crush on him.

He was afraid someone might’ve believed that he was making you follow him around and spend time with an older man like him, but he’d never wanted anyone off his ass like he wanted you to give him some peace.

Well, at least that’s what everyone thinks.

Your secret affair began when he was fixing his pickup truck. He would sometimes allow you to kiss his cheek between breaks just to get you to shut up, but with time, those small pecks turned into more intimate kisses and later more than just kisses.

Maybe he wasn’t good with words, but what he lacked verbally, he made up for physically.

Tonight, Leon drove out of town to run some basic errands. Of course, you tagged along, because he had accepted the fact that you going wherever he went had become a routine.

“You didn’t buy the strawberries! Did you forget them?” You whined at him, resulting in Leon tutting and shaking his head.

“I already have strawberries at home, you don’t need more.”

“But they’re not fresh ones.”

Leon sighed with the furrow of his brow that followed. Did he have to explain everything to you?

“Kid, ripe or not, they’re strawberries. And I have them, alright? No more fussing, I like you better when you’re grinning stupid.”

“Fineee.. grinning, right. Only grinning? Or do you… like-like me?”

Oh, he knew where this was going. “I do like-like you, but don’t go around making a big deal out of it, alright doll?”

The corners of his lips turned up when he glanced at your grinning face while pulling over next to a corn field. Usually, when he pulled over, it meant that you could crawl into his lap safely.

Trailer homes had thin walls. As much as he’d love to fuck you against his cheap mattress, the consequence of what would happen after— including complaints— was an obvious dealbreaker to him.

The moment he felt your weight on his lap, his rough palms found your hips to hold you against him. His tongue sought after yours while he pushed your underwear aside under the flimsy and cheap cotton dress you were wearing.

“Already so wet for me? So pretty.”

He shuffled beneath you to open his belt and let his hard dick spring out of the jeans that were restricting him a minute ago. As much as you loved dry-humping and foreplay, he needed you now. And according to how wet your pussy looked to him, so did you.

His lips brushed against yours, mirroring the way his tip was rubbing against your soft cunt before you sank onto his length. Leon’s moans, along with yours, were harmonious and a clear sign of mutual satisfaction. At least you knew he tolerated you through moments like these.

“That’s it, dollface. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

One of his hands tugged your dress higher, letting you rock your hips against him. With every thrust, his soft-pink tip would hit your cervix repeatedly.

Leon lifted his free hand to deliver a loud spank, hard enough to sting until tomorrow, but not too painful either. Your reactions always fascinated him, because even with every spank he gave, you were still determined to ride his cock through the stinging sensation. He expected you at least to stop for a second to let the sharp burn pass, but you didn’t.

“You keep bouncing on my cock like that, and I might just cum if you keep it up, sugar pie.” His words immediately motivated you to hump him quicker, your fingers tracing over the exposed skin of his chest near his neckline.

“C’monnn- cum w’me-“ You babbled breathlessly right before he obliged to your wishes. Your walls clenched around his ejaculating dick, feeling every part of your womb getting filled up by his warm seed.

He kept you glued to him like this, just to keep you full of him for a while longer, rather than driving back home. It’s late, though. You should be home, but the content smile on your face reassured him that maybe you genuinely enjoyed his presence, even if he used to push you away constantly.

And for a moment longer, he just sat with you wrapped around him in the driver’s seat while crickets and windy crops filled the atmosphere around you.

You couldn’t blame the guy.

The entire day was spent navigating winding roads, making pit stops at small diners, and pressing waitresses who wanted to quit and locals who questioned your motives. It was tiring, and you could see it from the backseat of the Impala: Dean’s narrowed eyes, a tired hand on the wheel, and Sam slumped in the passenger seat, head against the foggy window.

It wasn’t until the three of you got back to the motel that you could really see how frustrated Dean was with everything–shooting glares at Sam, shutting his suitcase a little too hard, his head tipping back to drain the last few drops from his flask. You watched in silence, sitting on the bed.

Sam had passed out early on the bed, face down, still in his jeans and t-shirt; meanwhile, you and Dean sat on the bed, mindlessly watching a show at the lowest volume. The rain outside kept him at bay, a soothing balm after a rough day of endless cases and bickering from his younger brother.

A few touches to your thigh got you in this position; back pressed into the mattress, a large hand clasped over your mouth, and Dean rutting into you like you were designed for him to take out his frustration. Deep, eager thrusts, his head tipped back, the bed awkwardly creaking, and worrying glances to an out-cold Sam.

You whine into his palm, head tipping back onto the stiff pillow, and Dean is watching closely, green eyes heavy, lust-filled. This is all he needs after a long day; your legs wrapped around his hips, your pretty face contorting to his desire, his own personal doll. He loved it, loved you.

“Gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he hushes through breaths, and you nod helplessly, and he has that fucking grin, still, even when he’s focused on thrusting, all whilst keeping the two of you as quiet as possible.

“Don’t wanna wake Sammy, yeah,” he breathes out, his head bowing while trying to keep in his own grunts and moans. “Good girl, keepin’ it closed for me,” he praises, swallowing back his sounds.

Nervous eyes look to your right, gazing at the sleeping boy, oblivious to the fact that his brother is currently fucking his girlfriend into the mattress just four feet away from him. It’s a dizzying thought, and it only has the two of you indulging in it: the fear, the adrenaline. It’s a high you’re both riding.

“Wanted you all day,” he whispers to you, a quiet admission through the soft grunts he’s letting bleed out, and your eyebrows are creasing, sweat trickling down the front of your forehead, and he’s lapping it up, eyes sweeping over your expression