#beau arlen drabble

[bluemerakis]

─────── ❝ sugar high ❞ ⋆˙ 𖦹 ˚.⋆

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ────

pairing ୨୧ munch .ᐟ beau arlen x fem .ᐟ reader

warnings .ᐟ cussing, oral f receiving, fingering, overstimulation, pet names

synopsis ─ beau arlen is a take the scenic route munch. that’s all, folks. that’s plenty.

word count ~ 2k

based on this ask

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“You like that a lot, don’tcha?” Beau chuckles gently, and the sound drips from his glistening lips like a stray trail of honey—tantalisingly sweet and so, so sparse throughout his focused fondling of you. He surveys you over the arch of your stomach, your lower back long since lifted from the mattress in search of his wet warmth.

“Mhm,” you breathe out—both spent and disoriented by the haze of pleasure Beau’s tongue seems to effortlessly elicit. But you’re overcome with a sudden groan of protest, head lifting from your pillow’s support with utmost difficulty to peer at him accusingly. “Why’d you stop?” You ask indignantly, but the lack of energy behind those words makes it come off as more of a pathetic whine.

He’s been at it for at least half an hour, now, tongue entangling with your folds like a shameless exploration, stumbling upon your pot of fine gold time and time again—only to drop it into a scattered, disappointing mess of nothing. A relentless tease that has your every nerve ignited at the ends and hot with the plea to quell its prolonged misery.

The sheriff beams from his place between your thighs, the strong arms he’d exploited to trap your lower half against the bed shifting to pry your legs even further apart. His grip is a practiced type of firm—refined by all the years he’s spent immobilising fugitives—yet he’s always overly conscious of the way his fingers root themselves within your tender flesh.

“I ain’t stopped nothin’—been goin’ at it for quite some time, actually,” he pokes smugly, but he’s perfectly aware of his selfish mischief. “It’s called havin’ fun, darlin’. Y’know, savourin’ what’s good for the soul,” he adds with a glint to his eyes that’s so boyishly mischievous, you can’t help but flick your eyes in response.

“I don’t think I can do this much longer,” you complain, your lower half squirming with the urge to pinch your thighs together, but Beau’s got a passive, vice-like grip on them that doesn’t allow you to go anywhere without his leniency. And he’s not lenient—not now, at least.

“Naw, come on,” he drawls as his hands gently flatten your thighs back into a helpless sprawl, where he fortifies their position with an encouraging squeeze. “I think you’re pretty darn capable of pullin’ through this. It’s why you’re my best gal. My sweet gal,” he adds with a purposeful wink, tongue poking through to glide along his lips like he’s savouring the very taste of you that lingers.

Your head shakes lightly—you’re at your wits end with him. “You’re plain, old mean,” you huff out, but the pout instantly softens as you feel as Beau’s arm uncurl from your thigh to glide his fingers over the sensitive inner. The teasing contact jettisons your pique from the ledge of care down into the deep, deep depths of arousal, where your core is trapped in constant exploitation.

Beau’s got you right where he wants you—hot, bothered, numb. That is, numb until he makes you feel all sorts of things.

Shivers hare up your spine as you feel his fingers trail a path all the way down to your slicked entrance, where they curl inside with a driven destination. “Am I, now?” He tests softly—the words accentuated like he’s slipped them through the crack of a grin. “Mean, that is?” He clarifies with a sparse chuckle to further ruffle the edges of his nerve, and then he drives the point home with a gentle pump into the tunnel of your warmth.

A broken gasp purses your lips as the girth of his manhandling stretches out your walls—all worked up and tense with the empty promise of fulfilment. Your head burrows back into the pillow, where it practically swallows you whole in the midst of your fragile collapse.

“Fucking hell!” You gasp into the air, eyes screwing shut as you surf the sensation of your body letting loose—a desperate scramble to accommodate his intrusion. “Don’t stop, Beau—just like that,” you hiss thickly.

Beau’s throat echoes with a throaty hum, like he’s savouring the way you melt onto his hand—so betraying of the aggrieved words that’d jumped from the ledge of your lips only seconds ago. “Just like that?” He echoes sweetly, fingers curling in a motion similar to the last, but with a new desire to delve deeper.

“Just like that,” you reaffirm in a slight whimper, lip drawn into a passionate bite as the sheriff eagerly obeys your pleas. With every thrust, he plunges deeper than he’d been before, like he’s got some silent record to beat. “And don’t stop this time—please.”

“Nah, I won’t, darlin’,” Beau hums comfortingly, and the pace he maintains drives a hard bargain. “And to think you had half the nerve to call me mean,” he teases lightly, the singular hand he’d left behind to safeguard your thigh rubbing sensual circles along the sensitive skin. “Me? Mean? When I’m takin’ such good care of my sweet girl? If it were true—and it ain’t—I’d have me locked up on the account o’ neglect.”

Your eyes don’t crack open once as he rambles on, too afraid to snuff out the focus you’ve worked to nurture into something akin to your high. “Just stop talking,” you scoff with the little air you’ve still got loitering within your spent lungs, a weak smile beaming through.

“Why, yes, ma’am,” he chuckles lightly. There’s no offence lingering in his tone—and you know it’s because he’s well aware of his hand in tonight’s foul play. The overstimulation is far too profuse from time to time, but you tend to hang in there on the knowledge that he’s not doing it to be mean. He merely enjoys indulging in the prolonged haven of your scent, sounds and slick. Enjoys you.

He’s obsessed with you.

“Still feelin’ dandy as a lion?” He pipes up after a string of thrusts, the fingers burrowed into your entrance continuing to plunge deeper and deeper at a pace so steady that it tugs at the last string of your sanity. And the knot that’s been building in your core threatens to unravel when his thumb daringly reaches up to flick over your sensitive clit. “Talk to me, sweet girl,” he coos when you don’t offer him the sought out input.

“Beau,” you protest helplessly, eyes burning teary behind the shield of your lids. Your fingers curl into the sheets as you grapple with his ministrations, your clit still trilling with the unexpected caress. “I think I’m gonna come—I can’t hold it back anymore.”

“Sure ya can, sweetheart,” he argues softly, temporarily halting his thrusts within you to lower his head to your mound. Your core flutters with the hope to feel his lips envelop your core with a welcoming heat that makes you forget your own, but you’re only graced with the chafe of his beard against your inner thigh, where he places a chaste kiss that lingers for a long second that feels taunting.

“I can’t.”

“Just hold on a little longer for me, alright? I know ya can do it. Just wanna taste you one last time before you let it rain down on me,” he drawls against you, the sound husky and distracted, like he’s entirely beguiled by the glistening view of you. And then his bearded jaw juts into your folds, where his lips engulf your swollen clit. Then, his tongue does a sweep of the area to take the sensitive organ under a wave so brutal, it has you gasping for air.

“Oh, god—yes!” You answer hopelessly. Unsolicited. Your thighs draw rigid with the combined stimulation of him—the resumed pump of his fingers, the tango of his tongue against your spent clit, and the hot chafe of his beard that feels determined to rub you raw. It’s all incredibly overwhelming in all the right ways. “I’m gonna come,” you mewl helplessly.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he coos proudly—the words slurred by the way his lips meld with yours. “Doin’ so good f’me. You’re a damn trooper—and you’re showin’ me up, that’s for sure. A girl like you? She’s got all it takes to see shit through. All the way down to the end o’ the line, baby’.” The deep rumble of his voice is a weapon of its own, adding to the unrelenting seize on your senses.

His pumps within you grow more vigorous and greedy with each passing second, reaching depths you didn’t think was possible—but your body welcomes it. And simultaneously braces against it, like it dreads the overwhelming finale it’s bound to present.

“Beau, that feels so good. You feel so good,” you slur weakly, your thighs tensing with the growing approach of your high. And this time, Beau grants you the grace of letting them bracket his head—like he’s made himself a willing, appreciative prisoner within your personal keep.

The only occasion where the sheriff welcomes his own detainment.

The arm he’s wrapped around your thighs ease up an inch as he imbues all focus into nurturing your finish. “Hm—ain’t ya just the sweetest?” He murmurs absentmindedly—appreciatively, and the words sound as winded as you feel. “I ain’t gonna stop this time, darlin’, so go ahead ‘nd let go f’me. Let me taste you—all o’ you,” he urges before he’s burrowed himself back into you with a rhythm of his jaw that’s entirely unforgiving.

And he doesn’t stop until you’ve painted him with the sloppy medium he’s been seeking out all evening.

You let out a broken gasp as your lower half shudders with the built up release, and Beau only adds to the grand finale as his throat rumbles against you with a low noise of euphoria—which strikes the heart of your sensitive clit. He laps at your glistening folds one last time—like it’s the last, guilty lick of the plate after dessert, before the warmth of his tongue finally forsakes you.

“Atta girl,” Beau praises breathlessly, the hand buried within your fluttering walls slowly pulling free of its suction. His other hand finally releases your thigh, the fabric of his clothes rustling as he shifts from the position he’d become solidified within. His palms return to your body in a gentle cupping of your thighs before he trails them up the length of your stomach. “Now, I dunno ‘bout you, but I could do this every night,” he chuckles softly once he’s brought himself up to hover over you, elbows propping him up at either of your shoulders.

You lift your head from your pillow with a frailty that threatens to topple you back into the plumy comfort, but your eyes catch on Beau’s face, and the sight of him is enough to keep you tethered in the air. The entirety of his jaw is slathered with your arousal, the fine hairs of his beard glistening like a proud display—almost as bright as the toothy grin nestled between his parted lips. His hair has scattered across his forehead in unruly strands, giving him a rugged look that only adds to his Texan charm.

He stares back at you with a knowing look in his eyes, like he’s fully aware of the state of himself. And he’s proud of it.

Proud of you for deconstructing him this way.

After a gentle string of pants, you finally heave a breath that allows you to speak. “I couldn’t do this every night,” you laugh hoarsely, your thighs pressing together like the mere thought of it chides you. “I might just pass away.”

Beau’s lips press into a playful pout, his brows furrowing with a look of disagreement. “On the contrary,” he says matter-of-a-factly, one hand coming up to wipe the sweat from your forehead before he settles for a gentle hold on your jaw. “If anythin’, you’ll be the death of me. You’re my sweet girl. And I’ll be damned if I was a diabetic ‘cause I’d just ‘bout drop dead gettin’ all sugar-highed on the taste o’ you.”

You giggle at that, your head shaking in light appreciation of his absurdity. “You’re something else entirely, Beau Arlen,” you murmur through a loving grin.

“And don’t I know it,” he laughs, hand gently pinching your jaw before he lowers himself to your lips, where he hovers just shy of your touch. “Just wait ‘til ya get a taste o’ you—then you’ll understand where I’m comin’ from,” he husks with a lazy grin before finally pressing his lips to yours.

And he’s right—you do taste sweet.

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a/n ─ beau does not stfu during sex sorry 🤷‍♀️ bro is a yapper at heart but it’s ok bc he doesn’t slack ❗️❗️❗️initially this piece was gonna be a combination of drabbles with munch dean, beau & sb but bc dean & sb’s part isn’t done yet and i wanted to get something out, have this!! i told myself i was gonna finish the other two boys’ tonight and release them all together but… i’ve been working on something else instead 👀

thank you for reading! likes & comments are appreciated—but reblogs go a much longer way, so please support your writers with it! <3

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @dulcescorderitas @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @daylighted @figthoughts @deansbbyx @honeyryewhiskey @beausling @florchids @jasvtsc @rositaslabyrinth @nperoconelcositoarriba @angelicjackles @youdontknowe @misatxox @alidiggory92 @idk-123-0 @mahi-wayy @tuxedoe @cas-only-angel @cassiecourtemanche @abox-of-rocks @viluren @lanasgirlfr @idontwannabehere7 @lunaleah @beelzebzb @ilovedeanwinchester4

want to become part of the taglist for any future beau arlen works?

other works ─ masterlist

© bluemerakis ─ do not plagiarise or steal any of my works.

[deansbeer]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄.

♡ ⋮ my content is not suitable for minors.

꒰ paired duo ꒱ beau arlen x female!reader.

꒰ synopsis ꒱ you wear his hat and finally learn what “ride the cowboy” really means — soft, filthy, and all night long.

꒰ content warnings ꒱ smut | cowgirl position | cowboy hat kink | soft dom!beau | praising | gentle possessiveness | light dirty talk | overstimulation | emotional intimacy (?).

꒰ sticky notes ꒱ here’s the second installment to this ask sent by @ccainesideboob <3 also dedicating this to (@beausling) as well — my fellow beau arlen enthusiast !!! & i’m posting this right before i head to bed for my new job tomorrow 😬 (it’s all i’ve been mentioning on here lately — so sorry about that, a girl is just excited, hehe.)

divider creds, @toastray !

you don’t remember exactly how the words came out of your mouth — something about “i think i’m ready to try the hat on now” — but you remember the look that crossed his face when you said it.

beau arlen, usually all charm and soft jawed smiles, went still. like he was trying to decide if you were teasing or serious. like he had to physically restrain himself from grabbing you right then and there.

he didn’t say anything at first. just nodded once, slow and sure, like he was giving you time to change your mind. then he tipped his hat off his head and handed it to you.

“you put that on,” he said, voice low, “you’re not walking out of my house tonight.”

you put it on.

now here you are — in his bedroom, knees on either side of his hips, wearing nothing but his cowboy hat, the wide brim tilted low as you reach between your bodies and guide him inside you.

he hisses through his teeth, hand gripping your thigh, the other sliding up your waist.

“jesus,” he mutters, watching you sink down on him slow, like you’ve got all the time in the world. “look at ya’.”

you don’t look at him — not right away. you’re too busy feeling. he’s thick, long, stretching you open in a way that makes your thighs tremble, your breath catch. it’s not the first time you’ve been with someone, but it’s the first time it feels like this — thick with tension and reverence, like he’s not just letting you ride him, but offering himself to you.

you start to move. slow at first, hips rocking steady, the drag of him inside you deep and exact. he groans low, eyes flicking from your chest to your mouth to the way the hat sits on your head, tipped back just enough to show your flushed cheeks.

“ya’ wear that better than i ever did,” he says, breathless.

you grin, hands on his chest, grounding yourself in the heat of him. “you like it?”

he nods, eyes hooded. “yeah. too much.”

his hands settle on your hips, guiding your rhythm — not forcing, just steadying. he lets you take your time, lets you feel every inch of him, every slow drag and deep push. and when you roll your hips just right and moan soft, he groans again, like he’s losing his mind.

“that’s it,” he breathes. “ride me jus’ like that, sweetheart.”

your thighs are shaking by the time you pick up the pace, bouncing gently, your breath hitching every time he hits that perfect spot inside you. he doesn’t take his eyes off you — not once. he watches you with that soft, steady hunger, like he’s memorizing everything: the way your hands slide down his stomach, the way the hat shifts with every movement, the way you fall apart on top of him.

“fuck, you’re beautiful, darlin’,” he says, voice rough. “y’know that?”

you nod, barely able to speak. your head’s spinning, body flushed, the pleasure building sharp and fast in your gut.

“you close?” he asks, thumb rubbing soft circles on your hip.

you nod again, breathless. “yeah. yeah, i—”

he sits up suddenly, arm around your back, mouth hot on your neck. the new angle makes you gasp, makes your body jolt. he’s deeper like this, the stretch almost too much, but you chase it anyway, hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

“let go for me,” he murmurs against your skin. “c’mon, baby. i got you.”

you fall apart with your face in his neck, your body tensing, thighs shaking as you come hard on his cock. he holds you through it, rocking you slow, kissing your shoulder, whispering soft things you can barely hear over your own heartbeat.

he doesn’t stop after you come. not right away. he lays you back gently, the hat still on your head, and settles between your legs, thrusting slow and deep, watching your face twist with every push.

“still with me?” he asks, brushing hair from your face.

you nod, dazed. “please—don’t stop.”

he doesn’t.

he fucks you through the overstimulation, through the aftershocks, through the soft gasps and the way your legs tremble. he kisses your thighs, your mouth, the inside of your wrist. he tells you you’re perfect, that you feel like heaven, that he’s never wanted anything more.

when he comes, it’s with a low groan and your name on his lips, spilling inside you slow and deep, his forehead pressed to yours like he’s praying.

you don’t take the hat off. Ever.

not even when he pulls you into his arms afterward, when you’re both panting and wrecked, tangled in sweat and warmth and too many feelings neither of you expected. you just lean into him, your head resting on his chest, and let his hand stroke lazy circles over your back.

“guess now you really can’t leave,” he says after a long silence, voice warm and dry.

you laugh, low and drunk with sleep. “why’s that, cowboy?”

“you wore the hat.” he kisses the top of your head. “means i’m yours now.”

you think about that for a second. about the weight of it, the way it feels more like a promise than a joke.

then you smile.

“good,” you say. “’cause i’m not done riding you yet.”

[bruisedfig]

A penny for your... freak thoughts on Beau arlen

ohhh i’m on some horny freak shit today idek let me give you a quick list of my lil beau headcanons !!!! 18+ <3

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

⊹  beau has a daddy kink rahhhhh it’s in his nature — taking charge, soft / casual dominance, being fatherly, etc. it gets him worked up when a soft little “yes, daddy” or “thank you, daddy” leaves your mouth. he looooves it. and he loves making you feel all soft and gooey and loved up.

⊹ he’s a boobs man. don’t get me wrong, he loves a nice butt, but pretty titties bouncing in front of his face as you ride him? he’s a goner !! the biggest grin you’ve ever seen !!!

⊹ aftercare is just as important as the act of sex itself to beau (if not more important lol). you cannot have sex with that man without a guaranteed hour of designated cuddle time after he pulls out of you.

⊹ being the sheriff… yeah, he’s using his cuffs on you.

⊹ teasing is his favourite form of foreplay. quick quips back and forth get him all riled up—like when you’re purposefully being bratty and disobedient. he loooves it. because he loves putting you in your place in return.

⊹ he’s not mean during sex, but he likes mocking you. all your little ‘uh, uh, uh’s at each thrust? he’s mocking your sounds right back to you. “yeah, uh, uh, uh. i know, sweetheart. keep telling me how good it feels.” or if you’re close and tensing up beneath him and scrunching your face, he’s going “aww, it feels that good, does it? c’mon, tell me how good it feels. use your words, pretty girl.”

⊹ in addition to him not being mean, he prefers making love instead of “fucking.” he’s a very sentimental and romantic guy. he adores taking you out for a nice candlelit dinner and then taking you home to breed your pussy until it’s stuffed full of him <3

i fear that last one was vulgar so i’m ending it there but yes !!!! beau arlen !!!!! the absolute loml !!!!!

[xoxomilesteller]

i think beau arlen likes getting his fingers sucked but like he doesn’t know until it happens.

he could be toying with your lips and then you take his thumb into your mouth and he’s literally bewildered.

and then after that he’ll always put his thumb into your mouth.

there’s one time where you two were on a camping trip with cassie and cormac. you kept on teasing beau and as soon as the sun set you guys went back into your tents.

”there we go darlin’,” he whispers as you bounce on his girthy cock, “gotta stay quiet f’me, yeah? can you do that?” he cups your face with his other hand, “you’re doin’ s’good,” he throws his head back but keeps his hooded eyes on your mouth.

you swirl your tongue over the calloused digit, the only thing that is muffling the lewd noises you usually make when he’s stretching you out.

[rositaslabyrinth]

Breaking point - Beau A

Beau Arlen x fem!reader

A fight between you and Beau spirals out of control, exposing all the fear and love you’ve been too afraid to say out loud — until the only way left to hold on is to feel it.

Content warnings ; fighting, smut, angry sex, p in v (don’t take after their example), fingering, morning sex

Word count ; 2,429

Minors please do not interact !!!!

It started small.

It always did.

First it was the late nights. Beau not answering your calls after a long shift.

The way he stopped reaching for your hand without thinking.

The way his eyes started looking through you, sometimes, instead of at you.

You knew the signs.

You’d been through enough goodbyes in your life to recognize the beginning of the end.

And it hurt.

But what hurt worse was that he wouldn’t talk to you about it.

Every time you tried, Beau just smiled that same tired, careful smile and said, “I’m fine, darlin’. You’re worryin’ too much.”

It made you crazy.

It made you angry.

Because you weren’t stupid.

You could feel him slipping through your fingers and he was acting like you were imagining it.

Tonight was supposed to be different.

You’d stayed late at the station, waiting for him. Brought him dinner from that little place he loved — the one you used to sneak off to during slow shifts, eating in the truck bed under the stars.

You sat there for two hours.

Waiting.

When he finally came out, Beau didn’t even look surprised to see you.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t say he was glad you waited.

Just said, tired and stiff, “You didn’t have to do that.”

You stood there, holding the damn takeout bag like an idiot, heart dropping straight into your stomach.

“Yeah,” you said, voice sharper than you meant. “I’m starting to realize that.”

Beau sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Already shutting down. Already pulling away.

That was it.

You snapped.

“You gonna keep pretending everything’s fine, Beau?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Gonna keep feeding me bullshit ’til I finally give up and leave on my own?”

He stiffened.

That slow, defensive posture you knew way too well.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, honey.”

“Someone has to!” you shot back, chest heaving. “Because you sure as hell aren’t saying a damn thing worth listening to.”

People were starting to glance over from the parking lot, but you didn’t care.

You wanted him to feel it.

To feel you.

“God, Beau,” you laughed bitterly, blinking back furious tears. “You say you care. You say you want me. But you act like you’re just waitin’ for an excuse to let me walk away.”

He flinched like you’d slapped him.

“That what you really think of me?” he said, voice low and ragged.

You stared at him, your whole chest aching.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” you whispered.

And you meant it.

For a moment, Beau just looked at you — so much pain in his face it almost knocked the breath out of you.

But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and turned toward his truck.

Without thinking, you grabbed his arm.

Tried to pull him back.

“Don’t you dare walk away,” you hissed.

He turned — fast, eyes flashing — and for a second you thought he might actually yell. Might finally break that damn wall between you.

Instead, he bit out

“Get in the truck.”

You blinked, stunned.

“What?”

“I said, get in the truck,” Beau repeated, voice low and furious. “You wanna fight? Fine. But not here.”

You hesitated — heart pounding, half of you wanting to scream at him right there — but something in his face stopped you.

Something scared.

So you climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door.

And Beau drove — silent, tense — back to his place.

The second you walked through the door, the second it shut behind you — you turned on him again, the pressure finally boiling over.Beau was right behind you, voice rough and biting.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

You spun around, chest heaving. “What else am I supposed to do, Beau? Stand here and beg you to care?”

His jaw flexed. His hands were fisted at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to grab something — grab you.

“You know damn well that’s not what this is about.”

You laughed, bitter and broken. “Then what the hell is this about?” you shot back, your throat already tight. “Because you sure as hell don’t act like someone who wants to stay.”

For a moment, Beau didn’t say anything.

He just looked at you — really looked at you — like he was seeing every inch of hurt you’d been hiding.

Then, low and dangerous, he said:

“I never wanted to hurt you, honey. But you think pushin’ me away’s gonna hurt less?”

Your breath hitched. You hated him for sounding so soft when you wanted to stay mad.

“You already hurt me,” you said, voice cracking despite yourself.

And that — that — was what broke him.

One second he was across the room; the next, he was in front of you, grabbing your wrists and pressing you back against the door with his whole body.

Not rough. Not cruel.

Desperate.

Like he thought if he didn’t hold onto you right now, you’d disappear.

“You think I don’t fucking care?” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, his breath shaking. “You think lettin’ you go wouldn’t kill me?”

Your mouth opened — to yell, to cry, you didn’t even know — but Beau kissed you before you could say a word.

It wasn’t soft.

It was teeth and tongue and the salt of both your tears, messy and furious and so goddamn needed.

You shoved at his chest once, in blind anger — and he caught your hand, lacing your fingers together, pinning it against the door.

“Don’t,” he growled into your mouth. “Don’t fight me on this, sweetheart. Not now.”

You whimpered, your whole body arching into his without meaning to.

He kissed you harder, grinding against you, his hands already moving — yanking your shirt up and off, not even bothering with the buttons. His palms were everywhere, rough and hot, like he couldn’t touch you fast enough.

“You’re mine,” Beau muttered against your throat, voice wrecked and low. “Mine, honey. Been tryin’ to be gentle but fuck, you make it so damn hard.”

You gasped as he bit down just enough to leave a mark, dragging a hand down to pop the button on your jeans.

“Beau—” you choked, but you didn’t know if you were trying to tell him to stop or to hurry up.

He shoved your jeans down your legs, dropping to his knees in front of you.

Looked up at you with those glassy, furious eyes — like you were the only thing keeping him breathing.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, hands squeezing your thighs. “Look at me. I need you to know. I’m not lettin’ you go.”

Before you could even nod, his mouth was on you — hot and filthy and so fucking good you sobbed his name out loud, back hitting the door again.

“That’s it,” Beau groaned against your skin, licking you like he could memorize the taste. “Goddamn, honey. You were made for me.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, needing something to hold onto. He groaned again — the vibrations making your knees buckle — and he only gripped your hips tighter, dragging you even closer to his mouth.

You were already falling apart, shaking so hard it was all you could do to gasp for air.

“Beau, Beau, Beau,” you whimpered, over and over like a prayer.

When you came, it wasn’t pretty — it was sobs and shaking and Beau pulling you down to the floor with him, cradling you against his chest like he thought you might break apart.

You thought maybe you already had.

But Beau wasn’t done.

He kissed you again, messy and deep, lifting you easily into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. His hands roaming your body like he needed to make sure you were real.

You could feel how hard he was — the thick, aching press of him against your thigh — and your breath hitched again, more tears slipping free.

“I need you,” you whispered, voice raw. “Please.”

“You got me, darlin’. Always had me,” he said, wrecked. “I’m yours.”

He didn’t rush — even angry and desperate, Beau was careful as he pushed into you, inch by thick inch, keeping his forehead pressed to yours the whole time.

The stretch burned, but you welcomed it — welcomed him — wrapping your arms around his shoulders and clinging.

He cursed under his breath, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in hard enough to make you cry out.

“Goddamn,” he groaned. “Feel so good, honey. So fuckin’ good for me.”

The rhythm was brutal at first — hard and deep, every thrust knocking the breath out of you — but as the seconds dragged on, it changed. Softened. Deepened.

Turned into something almost unbearably tender.

Like he was trying to tell you everything he’d never been brave enough to say with words.

“I love you,” you sobbed against his neck, not even thinking, just feeling. “I love you, Beau.”

He froze for half a second — just long enough for you to panic — but then he crushed you to him even harder, thrusting up into you with a broken sound.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he panted. “Love you so damn much it hurts.”

You came again with his name on your lips, shaking so violently he had to hold you through it.

Beau followed you seconds later, spilling into you with a hoarse, broken groan, his whole body shuddering against yours.

For a long time, neither of you moved.

You just stayed tangled up together on the floor, breathing hard, clinging like if you let go the whole world would fall apart.

Finally, Beau lifted his head, brushing his thumb across your tear-streaked cheek.

“Ain’t lettin’ you go,” he said again, softer now. “Not ever.”

You nodded, throat too tight to answer.

Because somehow, somehow, even after everything — you still believed him.

You woke to the feeling of him already looking at you.

It was a slow thing — consciousness dragging you up from heavy, dreamless sleep — the first thing you felt was warmth.

His body wrapped around yours like a second skin, his hand resting just beneath your ribs, holding you like you’d disappear if he let go.

“Darlin’,” he whispered, so low you almost thought you imagined it.

You blinked against the morning light slipping through the curtains.

Turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him.

Beau’s hair was a mess. His eyes were raw, bloodshot.

There were bruises under them, like he hadn’t slept at all — even though you’d passed out together not long after he’d wrecked you the night before.

“Hey,” you croaked, voice rough from sleep and leftover tears.

Beau just shook his head, pulling you closer until your face was tucked against his throat.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice breaking. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You pressed your forehead into his chest, breathing him in.

He still smelled like you.

Like the desperate, furious love you’d torn into each other with just hours ago.

“I know,” you whispered.

His hand slid up your back, slow and careful, like he was scared he’d hurt you.

You shivered, but not from the cold.

“Didn’t mean none of it,” Beau said hoarsely. “Not the way it sounded. I just— I get scared sometimes, honey. Get so twisted up in my head… think if I keep you at arm’s length, maybe it won’t hurt so bad when you realize you deserve better.”

Your throat closed up.

God, if he only knew.

You pulled back just enough to see him.

Cupped his face in both hands — traced the scruff along his jaw, the little line between his brows.

“Beau Arlen,” you said, voice trembling, “you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His eyes slammed shut like the words hurt him.

“You don’t have to say that just ‘cause—”

“I’m not,” you interrupted fiercely. “I’m sayin’ it because it’s true. And if you keep pushing me away, Beau, you’re gonna break both our hearts.”

He cracked open at that.

You could see it — feel it — the way he exhaled like he couldn’t hold it in anymore, forehead dropping to press against yours.

“I don’t wanna lose you, baby,” he whispered. “Don’t think I could survive it.”

Tears stung your eyes again, but this time you didn’t try to fight them.

“You won’t,” you promised. “You won’t lose me.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved — just breathed each other in, your heartbeats pounding in the same frantic, relieved rhythm.

And then Beau kissed you.

Soft, this time.

No anger, no desperation.

Just a slow, reverent kind of hunger — like he had all the time in the world to learn every inch of you.

He kissed you like an apology.

Like a prayer.

You sighed into it, letting yourself melt into him, feeling every ounce of regret, of fear, of love he was trying to pour into you with nothing but his mouth and his hands.

When he pulled back, Beau’s thumb brushed under your eye, catching a tear before it could fall.

“Love you, darlin’,” he whispered, so quiet it almost didn’t reach your ears.

Your breath hitched.

“I love you too, honey.”

The raw relief in his face almost undid you.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured against your skin. “Let me make up for it.”

You nodded, already dizzy with the feel of him — his hands sliding under the covers, fingers finding your bare skin like he’d die if he didn’t touch you.

And this time, when Beau moved over you, there was no anger left.

Only worship.

Only love.

He kissed every bruise he’d left.

Whispered sweet nothings into your skin between soft, aching kisses.

“Honey… sweetheart… my darlin’ girl…”Every word was a balm, sealing the cracks between you.

And when he finally slid inside you — slow, deep, overwhelming — you clung to him like he was your whole world.

Because he was.

He always had been.

Beau moved with you, for you, like he was trying to stitch you both back together from the inside out.

Whispering your name.

Whispering “I’ve got you, baby. Always got you.”

And this time, when you came undone in his arms, it wasn’t with fury.

It was with forgiveness.

With hope.

With love so fierce it left you both trembling, gasping, clinging to each other in the soft, broken light of morning.

Liz talks : hihihi i miss Beau so I wrote this lmaoo, I’m thinking of starting like a little Beau series (I say with a billion series that I already have and haven’t touched in forever) but oh welllll.

Tag list : @deansbbyx , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @sunnyteume , @deanswifeyy , @tinas111 , @kimxwinchester

To be tagged in any future works of mine check out this post !!

To find my my masterlist check out this post !!!

Any engagement is highly appreciated <33

[honeyroots]

beau arlen fucks you in his truck than adjust your lil sundress like nothing happens n goes on w his job.then gets all soft again.then fucks again

omg wait i love this. here's a tiny little drabble.

NSFW. MDNI.

It didn't take long for Beau Arlen to throw his truck in park and usher you over the center console. Peeling your panties to the side, he felt your slit with his middle finger, gathering enough of his arousal on his fingers to coat the base of his cock. Using just the tip, he teases your clit for a moment, impatient moans falling from your mouth. "I know," he'd say, "My eager girl." Sliding into you with his legs on either side of you, he used his hands to grip under your ass and bounce you on top of him. Guttural noises sounded from you, the feeling of his tip bumping that special spot inside you forcing your walls to clench around his dick. "Feels too good," you told Beau, pressing against his chest with your hand as if to get some distance. "I know," Beau commented, "Just a few more minutes for me. You can do that, right, baby?" Beau slowed his movements down, now gently sliding you up and down his shaft as if to not overwhelm you. If you were at home, where your sounds were contained between your walls, then Beau wouldn't care. With Beau gently ushering you back down on his cock one last time, you threw your head back, the overwhelming feeling of him filling you up bringing you to your climax. Head falling against his chest, he petted your hair as he worked himself through his own orgasm. Beau's dick was still tucked inside of you as he adjusted your sundress, making sure the straps straddled your shoulders accordingly. "Maybe we should just go back home, sweetheart. We've got some stuff to get out of our systems."

[jjmbbg]

"Duty Calls"

cw: beau arlen x fem!reader, unprotected anal sex (no hat, no party), no use of lube (please don't), fingering, hair pulling, use of 'sir' and 'good girl'.

(pics from pinterest)

Beau he was carefully reading the file of a case he was working on, his emerald gaze fixed on the suspect's criminal record when he heard a soft knock on the glass of his door. He raised his gaze and looked at the door when the creaking of the door opening made its presence felt, smiling softly as you appeared through it, smiling back at him.

"Hey, handsome, you busy?" you asked, closing the door behind you.

"A little, but I think putting aside work for a couple of minutes won't hurt. C'mere, gorgeous" he closed the file and tossed it on his desk, calling you with a two-finger gesture. "What are you doing here, mhm?"

"I went to the grocery shop, and decided to stop by and see you" you smiled walking towards his desk and leaned on the edge of his desk. "Lot of work, huh?"

"A little bit much" he chuckled, his husky voice causing a chill to deliberately run down your spine. His eyes ranked your body slowly, taking in your pretty flowered dress, the one he gave you at Christmas, and right into your bare legs. His hand caressed gently your knee, sliding over your thigh, a wicked grin forming across his lips. "Y'know, sweetheart, I've been pretty busy these last few hours..." Arlen trailed off, hand hovering the hem of your dress.

The sheriff moved his chair, turning the wheels, until he found himself in front of you, now both hands on your legs, spreading them easily —and without opposition from you. His fingertips dancing along your skin, making you sigh softly.

"You know the blinds are open, right?" you whispered, licking your lower lip amused, feeling a warm sensation in your lower belly.

"Let them see" he whispered back, pulling the chair closer and pulling your dress up to your waist, smiling as he could see your pink panties and the wet spot in the center of them. "Look at yourself," he mused, one finger trailing the hem of the wet fabric. "already wet? I've barely touched you, sweetheart"

"Beau-" you started to talk, voice choked, but a rough squeeze on your thighs made you shut.

"No, sweetheart" Beau mumbled, spreading out more your legs, caressing gently the exposed skin, making you whine. "You know that's not my name here, not when I have you open like this"

You sighed heavily, hands gripping the edge of the wooden desk. "Sir, please... touch me" it was a soft pleading, breathy.

"Good girl" he praised you, moving aside your panties and slidinh two fingers knuckle-deep inside of your wet pussy without any warning. You clenched your walls around his fingers, enjoying the delicious sensation of him splitting you open with his digits. "Taking my fingers so well, huh? You always take 'em perfectly, don't you?"

You whined once more, knuckles white as you gripped tighter the desk, eyes rolling out of pleasure, head falling backwards and lips parted, letting out soft moans as Beau moved his fingers inside of you. He pressed his other hand was pressed against your mouth, muffling your tiny little sounds.

"Nah uh, don't make any sounds, babygirl" he cooed you, pumping his skilled fingers in and out of your soaked pussy, the squelch of your arousal making him groan, feeling his jeans growing tighter. "Fuck, that's it"

He muttered, pulling out his fingers of your heat making you moan softly, grabbing your hips and turning you around, pushing you against the furniture to finish lifting your dress, lowering your panties towards your ankles and finally exposing yourself. His hands grabbed the firm yet soft globes, parting them to expose your tightest hole, grinning to himself, he let go of them, moving his hands to get rid of his jeans and boxers.

"You gonna take me well in this tight little ass? I bet you will, you always do" Beau smirked, enjoying the view from behind you. He smacked one of your asscheeks, seeing it jiggle. "Or am I wrong, babygirl?"

"You're right, sir" you whimpered, wiggling your ass seeking for him to touch you more, to fuck you. "Please, please, I want you"

"Please what? You want me? How, huh? What do you want me to do? Use your words like a good girl, because you're a good girl, right? You wouldn't lie to the sheriff"

He grabbed his hard-rock cock on his hand giving it a few pumps before spreading again your buttcheeks, pressing the flushed tip against your hole, smearing his pre-cum on your rim, pushing just the tip inside. He pulled back, then pushed again, and pulled back and pushed once more, letting your asshole adjust to his cock.

"You're so tight, baby. You always are" he grumbled against your ear, his hands keeping your hips in place as he started to pound into your ass, hearing you whine in a mix of discomfort and pleasure. "You're doing it amazing, sweetheart, just relax for me, okay?"

You nodded, leaning forward, moaning and breathing heavily, thus relaxing your muscles. Beau groaned, moving one hand to your head, grabbing your hair into a makeshift messy ponytail, pulling your head back. Your eyes rolled back, your nails digging into the wood of the desk, pleasure taking the best of you, begging in whispers for more and more.

"There we go, sweetheart. You're doing it so good" Arlen growled, keeping firm yet gentle thrusts, your asscheeks swallowing his length. "My good girl. Keep quiet, we don't want anyone else to hear your pretty sounds"

You chuckled, biting you lower lip and enjoying his thick cock splitting your ass open, filling you in ways only Beau knew how to, he was the only one who knew how to make you feel like this.

"Fuck, fuck. Feeling so good, sir, so, so good" you babbled. The edge of the desk bruising your hips, the sound of the wood dragging against the ground with each thrust making you moan once more. "I'm close, sir, so close. Please, don't stop"

Beau groaned again, burying himself balls-deep into your tight ass, pulling your hair once more before letting it go. He placed a hand on yours, intertwining fingers to remember you silently how much he loves you.

"Cum for me, baby, don't hold anything back. I know how bad you wanna cum" he ordered, pounding harder and harder. "I'm gonna cum inside of you, fill you up and leave you dripping of my cum"

It only took a few more thrusts to make you finish, biting your lower lip harder enough to taste the the copper in your mouth. And then, oh good Lord, Beau's warm seed filled your channel it made you shiver.

"Mhm, the best distraction I could ever had" he mumbled, nipping your earlobe, pulling out of you, smiling watching the trail of cum drip from your asshole. He took care of pulling your panties back into place and lowering your dress, then he combed your hair and kissed you on the lips. "Go home, I'll reward you tonight, alright?"

"Sounds perfect to me" you replied softly, patting his chest, looking forward to tonight.

[supernotnatural2005]

Office Hours

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: Beau Arlen is a man of the law, but when it comes to you? Let’s just say, some rules were made to be broken, and some desks were made for more than just paperwork.

Word Count: 800+

Warnings: SMUT!(18+ONLY!!!) swearing, fluff.

AN: Happy Monday Guys! Just a short smutty Drabble that came to mind for our dear Sheriff. 🥵 Hope you enjoy 😘

Masterlist

The station had a distinct smell this time of day—old coffee left to burn in the pot, paper warmed by the setting sun through the windows, and a lingering trace of someone’s cologne hanging in the air. It was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of reports and the hum of a vending machine in the hallway. 

Most of the desks were empty now, the usual chaos of the workday having died down. A few officers lingered, finishing up their paperwork, their conversations muffled behind closed doors. But none of that mattered to him right now.

A fist came down like a gavel against the solid oak wood of his desk, hard enough to rattle a few pens.

Papers scattered across the surface—various cases he’d been looking into before the distraction. Because now, focus was a lost cause.

Beau sank into the back of his chair, his head angling heavenward, sharp breaths slipping through his parted lips as warmth engulfed him once more.

His gaze flickered downward, heart pounding in time with the ticking clock on the wall. Between his parted thighs, you knelt, your lips wrapped around his cock, your mouth a dangerous weapon wielded with precision.

His jeans had been tugged down just enough to free him, the pressure of your hands on his thighs keeping him anchored. The door to his office was shut, the blinds drawn, but still, he kept close to his desk—just in case.

You were trouble.

His trouble.

It was always like this with you. No matter how much he told himself he needed to be careful, to have some damn restraint, you had a way of unraveling him. Your touch was both a promise and a threat, a wildfire he had no desire to put out. 

He craved you in a way that was almost primal, a hunger that never seemed to be sated no matter how many times he had you. And you knew it. You wielded that knowledge like a blade, cutting through every last shred of control he thought he had.

“You sure about this?” He had asked earlier, when you straddled him in his chair, hands tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp as you kissed a slow path along his jaw.

His resistance had been weak, barely more than a rasp of concern as you whispered against his pulse, “It’ll be exciting.”

And now? Now he was undone.

“Fuck,” he ground out, fingers gripping the armrests of his chair, his restraint hanging by a frayed thread. You took him deeper, the wet heat of your mouth forcing a groan from his lips, barely contained. He could feel your throat constrict as you fought against your gag reflex, the sheer effort making him dizzy.

His free hand found its way into your hair, just holding—not guiding. He didn’t need to. You knew exactly how he liked it.

The sound of voices just outside his office had him snapping his head up, his breath catching. Jenny. And Poppernack. Too damn close.

You didn’t stop.

Of course, you didn’t stop.

His grip tightened in your hair, a silent warning, but all it did was spur you on. You pulled back, pumping his dick slowly, your spit slick along his length as you licked a teasing stripe along the sensitive underside. His body locked up, his thighs trembling as he fought to stay composed. 

He barely had enough time to yank his shirt down over his lap before there was a knock, and then the door creaked open.

Beau forced his expression into something resembling normal, though he was sure he looked borderline murderous as Jenny stepped into the office.

“You look like hell,” she remarked, arching a brow as she leaned against the doorframe. “Long day?”

His throat felt like sandpaper. His jaw was locked so tight he was worried his teeth might crack. And then, as if sensing his predicament, your tongue flicked over his tip before your mouth sealed over him once more.

Son of a bitch.

“Yeah,” he bit out, voice rough. “One of those days.”

Jenny eyed him, clearly debating whether she cared enough to pry. Meanwhile, you worked him over with slow, lazy movements, the kind that made his blood run molten. If she didn’t leave soon, he was going to lose his mind.

“You coming to the bar?” Jenny asked after a beat, finally pushing off the doorframe.

He swallowed thickly, dragging a hand down his face. “Nah. Think I’ll call it a night.”

Jenny smirked, casting him a suspicious glance before nodding. “Alright, suit yourself. See you tomorrow.”

The moment the door shut, his head dropped forward, fingers tangling in your hair as he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“You,” he growled, voice ragged, “are gonna be the death of me.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, lips swollen, eyes dark with mischief.

“But what a way to go.”

And then, you took him to the hilt, and Beau knew he was utterly, hopelessly fucked.

AN: What a scenario 🥵 how many of you would love to be in the readers shoes rn? 😂 Let me know what you thought, feedback is always appreciated 💕

Beau Arlen Tag List: @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

[soldiersgirl]

FOR BEAU MAYBE WRITE ABOUT LIE A STRIPPER GF WHO GIVES HIS TOUCHSTARVED ASS THE TIME OF HIS LIFE

ask and you shall receive !

summary — beau discovers what he needed most in the last place he thought he would find it.

cw — stripper!reader x beau arlen, 18+ (mdni) mentions of drinking, exotic dancing, kissing, groping, YEARNING.

word count — 1,162 words

beau had driven as far out of montana as he could. honestly, he wasn't even sure which state he was in. all he knew was you and the way you worked your magic up on that pole to the beat of "cherry pie". what a cliché, but it was one of his favourites and nothing looked more heavenly than the cherry red lingerie that clung to your body, the way he wished he could.

with each wink of your luscious eyelashes, flick of your shiny hair and snap of your hips, he fell further into your trap and he wasn't looking for an exit anytime soon. other dancers came and tried to get his money and attention but it was all yours tonight. he couldn't stop imagining the way you would feel in his hands, on his lips, on his lap. on him.

he tried to distract himself by staring down the neck of his beer bottle, only for a second, to cool down and ease the growing, painfully ignored bulge in his worn denim jeans. before he knew it, the song had ended and your heels were click-clacking off stage backstage to refresh yourself and prepare for your next dance. he knew he had to strike now.

he sat in the darkened vip booth, draped with crimson curtains, red satin couches and matching tassel curtains. his hands itched and sweat decorated his brow as he waited for you. each second that passed only escalated his anxiety, excitement? he couldn't work out what he was feeling, but what he did know was that he longed for you and your soft touch.

what was he doing? god, he's a sheriff. he can't be doing this. he'd be the talk of town if they found out that he was going to strip clubs just to get attention. hell, he would be laughed out of town. god, what would his daughter and ex-wife think? he scratched the back of his neck and ran his hands over his face.

"fuck." he sighs to himself before going to grab his jacket to leave before he fell in deeper, but he didn't get very far. his eyes flickered up and there you stood in between the tassels with a small smirk and a raised brow.

"leaving so soon?" you pout as you glance between his shocked face and fleece denim jacket in his grasp. you let the tassels dance over your skin as you reach out and pull the jacket from his tight grasp and throw it behind you. "you already paid, i don't think you should waste your money. you look too clever for that." you winked as you pushed him back against the satin couches and sat on his lap. he's sure he's forgotten how his lungs work as your fingers danced over and caressed his crows feet, down his stubbled cheek and along his jawline, all with a soft smile on your painted lips. "first time?" you whisper as your hands travel down and rest above his heart, that he was sure was about to beat out of his chest.

"that obvious?" beau manages to say, his lungs finally refilling as he remembers to breathe. a small giggle escapes you as you nod and run your hands through his surprisingly, luscious hair.

"you look too sweet to be here." you breathlessly whisper. "but don't you worry, i'll take good care of you." before beau can even react, you readjust and straddle him as your hands connect behind his neck and your hips gyrate to the beat of whatever techno song is blasting in the background. he can't focus on anything but the sensation, smell, feeling of you. your sinful eyes never leave his widened ones as you smoothly grind against him before you throw your head back and reveal your chest to him. his hungry eyes trail down the smooth valley of your breasts and down to where your bodies mould together. his hands fly up to rest on your waist but you smack them away and, to his demise, climb out of his comfortable lap.

"rule number one. no touching." you smirk as you run your hands over your curves as you swivel on the spot, glide down to your knees and crawl towards beau. his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he tries to control his breathing. your hands glide from his knees to his thighs and he freezes. so close yet so far away from where he wanted you most.

"what's rule number two?" he mumbles, his brain flooded with you.

"don't fall in love with a dancer." you laugh as you clamber onto his lap again. behind his half-lidded eyes, he silently thanks god as you rest your back against his toned chest, throwing your head back and resting on his shoulder. you continue your previous grinding with a smirk as you feel him against you, loving what you do to him. how you're able to make a man like him weak in the knees and drunk of desire. you grab the older mans hands and let them trace the outline of your body before resting on your chest.

"but it's more fun if we break rules, isn't it?" you nibble at his ear and his whole world comes undone in that single moment. he is stuttering and stammering as he gropes and squeezes your tits as if his hands were trained to do so with your heated panting against his sensitive neck and relentless grinding on his clothed cock. for the next five minutes, beau was pretty sure he had gone to heaven as your hands and lips glided over one another as the techno-beat echoed in his eardrums.

this was one sin he hoped to never be absolved from.

eventually, you slowly untangled yourself from the handsome gentleman, caressing his cheek one final time before rewarding him with a slow, deep kiss. he tried his best to remember everything: the taste of your cherry lipgloss, the comforting feel of your supple skin beneath his calloused hands, your innocent eyes and dirty words. you pulled back and cocked your head, as if examining him.

"i get off in 1 hour. if you're interested." you play with the collar of his shirt, giving him a sly smile.

"i.. i can wait." he blurts out.

"good thing, sheriff. i'm not done with you yet." you lean in and press your soft lips to his collar, leaving a bright red lipstick stain on the pristine, white shirt.

"... sheriff?" he gulps, trying to play it off. "i'm not.. you've got me mistaken–"

"oh, mr. arlen. when a sheriff as handsome as you turns up, girls will talk. and girls will want." you wink. you give his cheek one chaste kiss before hurrying out and letting the tassels glide over your skin. beau thought becoming sheriff was the best thing to happen to him. he just figured out that he was wrong.

-`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @valjy @dulcescorderitas @mostlymarvelgirl @syrma-sensei @rositaslabyrinth (comment or inbox me to be added)

[justwhisperingfantasies]

@fandom-free-bingo Square: "I Would Never Do You Wrong." @alphabetquest Prompt: "Explain it to me again.

Pairing: Beau Arlen -x- Reader!Deputy (Nickname Rouse)

Warnings: Angst, Gun Violence, Hurt Reader, Heart Break, Hurt/Comfort, Drinking, Cheating,

Summary: Beau is tired of seeing your heart break. This time will be the last.

Word Count: 1,780

Special Thank To @copperboom82 My Forever Beta Bestie 🫶

My Master List

My Tag List

Beau looked over as you turned your phone screen off with a sigh. “Let me guess,” he spoke up.

“I don’t want to talk about.”

“He can’t make dinner,” he continued, ignoring your protest. “Not surprised, although it is your what? Two year anniversary?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about, Beaufort.”

The engine of his Land Rover filled the silence as the tension floated between you. You looked at the clock of the radio.

“So, explain it to me again…”

“Wow, managed to keep quiet for a whole two minutes,” you quipped, giving him a smile. “What is it, Sheriff?”

“He cancels plans, flirts with other women, always going out with the guys, some nights he doesn’t even come home,” Beau rambled on, though it wasn’t anything you hadn'theard before.

“So you were eavesdropping?”

“No, not eavesdropping,” he grinned

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, my mistake.” He opened his mouth but shut it when you continued. “I guess me talking to my best friend alone in my office was an open conversation.”

“My point is… why do you stay with him?”

You sighed as you eyes shifted to the greenery out the car window. “It’s not all bad.”

“I just don’t get it, Rouse,” Beau whispered, stopping at the stop sign, with only one more block to go, Maybe if you ignored the question, he would just let it go - probably not though. “You deserve someone better,” he said, proving you right. “A good guy, someone that would treat you right and put you first.”

“Well, if you happen to meet prince charming, go ahead and give him my number,” you quipped, earning a chuckle from him.

“What if he -”

“Why is Emily here?” you asked cutting him off, hoping to change the subject.

“Hm, not sure,“ he said as his brows furrowed, finding his daughter sitting on the bench outside of the Sheriff’s station. “Let’s go find out.”

“Hey Em, you ok?” Beau asked as the two of you walked up the sidewalk.

“Hey dad,” she greeted him, wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’m fine. Though I’m actually here to talk to y/n.”

Beau’s eyebrows raised. “Really? Something you can’t talk to me about?”

”It’s more of a feminine question.”

“Ok, I am out,” Beau announced as his cheeks got red. “I’ll be inside if you need me.”

You both watched as he disappeared through the door. “Alright, what's up?” you asked turning back to Emily.

Your office door creaked as Beau knocked and he poked his head in, dramatically scanning the room.

“What are you doing?” you asked him as his head kept swiveling.

“Just making sure I'm not walking in on a private conversation,” he smirked.

“Oh my gosh, you're freaking hilarious.” He chuckled at your sarcastic tone.

“So...”

“So...” you echoed as you continued writing your notes from the traffic stop this morning.

“You gonna tell me what my daughter wanted to talk to you about?”

“Haven't you learned your lesson about private conversations?” you quipped, making him sigh. “She just wanted the number for a nice drug dealer.” He bit back a smile. “Don't worry I steered her away from the cartel and gave her Stabby Joe’s number.”

Beau’s head lifted as his laughter rippled through the air. “Yeah, Stabby Joe was definitely the way to go.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

“Seriously though, she’s ok right?”

“Yes Beau, I would tell you if it was major.” His eyebrows raised still trying to pry the subject from you. “Our little Emily likes a boy.”

“God, please tell me you didn’t give her boy advice.”

“And just what the hell do you mean by that?” you asked leaning back in your chair as your arms folded across your chest.

“Well y/n, you don't have the best track record in that category.”

“And you're one to talk, Beaufort.”

His brow quirked. “Somethin’ you wanna say?”

“Actually-”

“Arlen, y/ln!” Jenny shouted as she rushed into your office. “We got ‘em”

You jumped to your feet, Beau already on his. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

“Here,” Beau said handing you a bullet proof vest from his backseat.

“Beau, this is gonna be way too big on me,” you argued, looking at the size. “Wait, you keep a vest for me in your truck?”

“Of course I do,” he chuckled, his eyes staying forward and a smile spreading across his face. “Have you met you?”

“I got shot one time…”

“Well, that will be the only time, if I can help it.” He looked over, his face hard. “That’s an order deputy.”

You pulled the vest over your heard with an eyeroll. “Yes sir.”

“Thank you,” he said pulling into the apartment complex.

“Number 14, second floor,” Jenny's voice came though the walkie.

“Copy that,” Beau responded, strapping his vest “You ready?” You gave him a nod after strapping your won vest on. “Alright.”

Beau walked ahead of you - of course he would go first, he always went first - his pistol securely pointed at the ground. He reached his hand behind him brushing your thigh as you approached the door.

“1… 2… 3…” Beau whispered right before kicking in the door. You were right behind him, gun drawn scanning the room. “Clear, going right.”

“6,” you shouted, letting him know you were behind him.

“Going left,” Pop cried out, and Jenny responded to him same as you.

Beau reached the hallway, looking back to you before he rounded the corner. “Clear.” You followed behind him, stopping at the first door. “I'll take this one, you take that one.” He said, gesturing the second door.

You nodded and continued on your way. You opened the door and your vision went white; you gasped for air as something hit your chest. Then again as you fell to your back.

“y/n!” Beau’s voice a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

‘Breathe, just breathe’ Your lungs relaxed once they started getting oxygen again.

“Jenny! Pop!” you heard Beau’s frantic voice. “Rouse, tell me you’re ok.”

You opened your mouth, trying to yell back at him, but nothing came out.

“Beau, we’ll cover you, get her the hell out of here.”

Gunshots fired over the now dull chimes. You felt something pull on the shoulder straps of your vest “Y/n, open your eyes,” Beau pleaded, the gunshots getting softer as you felt the carpet stinging your limp arms. “Open your eyes damnit!”

“Can you… stop yelling at me,” you managed to croak out.

Beau sighed in relief, “You scared the shit outta me, Rouse.” He sat up, your back against something hard - you guessed the outside wall of the complex. “Were you hit?” he asked as his fingers fumbled with the straps of your vest.

“Chest... hurts.”

“Well, that’s to be expected.”

Opening your eyes you looked up at him, not being able to stop the smile from spreading across your face. “Beau.”

“Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Don’t argue with me right now.”

His fingers stopped when your hand cupped his cheek. “Beau, I’m not hit. The vest got it.”

“You’re sure?” His eyes searched yours for some sigh of doubt, maybe? “I think you should still go.”

“I am fine. A little sore. Go help Jenny.”

“Not needed,” Jenny contested, pushing the perp through the front door in handcuffs. “We got him, you take her.”

“You’re going,” Beau demanded as a groan pushed past your lips.

"I told you I was fine," you smarted, climbing into the Land Rover's passenger seat. Beau nodded, staying silent as he starred out the windshield. "What's wrong?"

He cleared his throat "Nothing. Am I dropping you off at home?"

“Yeah… Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Yep.”

The rest of the drive was quiet. You knew he was lying, but you decided not to push. You had been through enough for the day and he had just saved you, he deserved to be cut some slack.

“Who’s car is that?” Beau asked, snapping you out of your thoughts as he pulled into your driveway.

“Um, not sure…”

He nodded. “Call me if you need me.”

“Ok?”

“I just got a feeling.” He grabbed your hand as you started to turn toward the door. “ I love you, Rouse.”

“I love you too, Beaufort.”

Beau tossed the remote on the couch with a huff; he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. Well that wasn’t true - there was one thing that managed to keep his attention. He sat up reaching for his phone on the coffee table. Before he could stop them his fingers opened their text conversation and started typing.

Hey hope everything is ok, by the way who

“No,” he said out loud holding the delete button down, he thought for a second and started typing again.

Rouse, I’m sorry I was such a dick, I was just scared to

He let a growl as he held down the delete button once more.

How are you feeling?

He nodded hitting send. The three little bubbles flashed on the screen within seconds.

Are you home?

Yes.

The bubbles disappeared, his eyes moved to the clock in the top right corner of the screen. After 5 minutes past he started typing again.

Are you ok?

No bubbles, no reply. He waited 10 minutes this time.

Could you answer me

Just as he hit send there was a knock on his door.

“I brought tequila.” she said, holding up the bottle. His heart sank, her eyes red and puffy, her makeup smeared. Still as beautiful as ever though.

Beau gestured her inside, opening the door all the way open. “What did the son of a bitch do now?” he asked shutting the door.

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Y/n,” Beau whispered

“You were right, ok?” she said voice cracking as tears welled in her eyes. “Is that what you wanna hear?”

“Hey,” Beau said as he stepped over to her, wrapping his arms around her. “You know better than that, sweetheart. Tell me what happened.” He could feel the dampness through his shirt as she sobbed into his chest.

“That other car was Amy - some slut he’s been hooking up with.” She mumbled. “I just don’t get it. All men do is break your heart and do you wrong. I am so sick of it.”

“Hey, hold up there. There’s still some good guys out there...”

“Oh yeah? Like who?” she asked looking up at him.

Beau took a deep breath, “Woman, you’re so damn stubborn.”

“Right back at cha bucko,” she smarted, making him chuckle. “Seriously though, Beau Who?”

“You know,” and his fingers traced up her neck, stopping at her chin, “I would never do you wrong.”

Tag List:

@mochminnie @jackles010378 @mqdhvtter @nightxcreature

@perpetualabsurdity @wonderland2022 @quietgirll75 @nancymcl @hobby27

@hunter-or-the-hunted @litpicks

@deansimpalababy @mandee7 @roseblue373 @kr804573

@jtink27 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @lmg14

@aand13b @spnaquakindgdom

[waynes-multiverse]

Kinky request? 🤔 I don't know if you got this one already but how about Beau loving the risk of getting caught fucking in his office? Maybe turning it into a Blowjob under his desk befor they actually get caught by Popcorn or Jenny?🤭

A/N: Yup, I haven't forgotten about Dirty Drabbles. My inbox is still full of these, so here's another one. Enjoy some naughty alone time with our favorite Sheriff! 🤍🤠

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, shameless flirting, semi-public smut, office blowjob, some fluff as well

Word Count: 1.4k

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

Jurisdiction

A few hasty knocks on his office door drew the Sheriff’s attention away from his files and to the intruder. He told Jenny and Poppernak he needed some peace and quiet this afternoon to catch up on the piling paperwork on his desk.

God, he hated paperwork. It was his least favorite part of the job.

“Popcorn, I told you I don’t wanna be disturbed,” Beau barked a little rougher than usual, the tension headache making him slightly cranky.

“Yes, sir, I know.” Poppernak swallowed and blinked at him insecurely, forcing a deep sigh from the Sheriff’s lips. “But, uhm, you have a visitor.”

Beau’s features lightened at that. Maybe Emily decided to surprise him with lunch. “Who?”

“FBI, sir.”

Once more, Beau sighed heavily, the crease in his brow reappearing. “Alright, what do they want?”

“She wants to see an old friend,” said a female voice, Beau’s head tilting at the familiarity before a smile spread on his freckled face.

“Sorry, couldn’t keep her out any longer,” Jenny apologized as she rushed in behind the agent.

“It’s alright,” Beau told his deputy, his grin only growing. Soon his sunny smile reached from ear to ear. “Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, I’ll be damned… What brings you into my little corner of the world, huh?”

Y/N chuckled, her smile competing with his. “Heard you had a serial killer on your hands. Thought I check it out, offer my help…”

“Ah.” Beau nodded and got up from his creaking swivel chair, sauntering closer to her. He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms in front of his chest, the shirt tightly stretching over his muscles. “Of course, the FBI’s snooping around. I believe that ain’t your jurisdiction, sweetheart.”

“C’mon, we’ve had fun last time we’ve worked together,” Y/N said and winked.

Beau laughed, his cheeks flushing red, the change of color luckily hidden by his beard. “That we did. And here I thought you just came here to see me.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Y/N smirked.

“You guys know each other?” Jenny asked curiously, catching some of the flirtatious air in the room. Beau guessed that if the blonde didn’t make the connection, she wouldn’t be such a good detective but still hoped she wouldn’t tease him about it once their shift was over.

“Worked a case together down in Texas. Cartel business,” Y/N explained without taking her eyes off the Sheriff. It was as if the others in the small office didn’t even exist.

“Yup, Special Agent Y/L/N is one of the best in the narcotics game,” Beau added.

“Major Crimes now, actually,” Y/N corrected him.

“Look at you!” Beau nodded, impressed, sending her a smile before he turned to his two subordinates. “Guys, how about you let me catch up with Agent Y/L/N, see if we need the FBI’s help with this one, alright?”

“Sure, boss,” Jenny said and shot him a knowing smirk. The blonde then grabbed a confused Poppernak and dragged him out of the office, closing the door behind them.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Beau said with a warm smile as soon as the two of them were alone.

“You, too, Arlen. That Sheriff title suits you,” she replied flirtatiously. “So, you’re back with the ex?”

“Why are you asking?” he fired back immediately.

Y/N shrugged innocently. “Just assumed since you moved up here.”

“Nah, just did that for the kid,” he explained and could’ve sworn she looked relieved. “What about you? Still seeing that spunky DA?”

“Ted?” Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “God, no. Dumped that guy months ago.”

“Good, I never liked that guy,” Beau admitted with a small smile that probably gave away too much. But if Y/N caught it, she surely didn’t care.

“Yeah, I never liked your bitch of an ex-wife either,” Y/N said bluntly and grinned at him unapologetically.

“Still got a mouth on you, huh?” Beau’s gaze wandered down her body, feeling his dick harden and strain his pants. Her hips, ass, and thighs were clad in tight denim, her breasts close to spilling out of her white blouse and bra as he bit back a lustful smirk.

“You betcha. You always loved that about me,” Y/N retorted, wiggling her eyebrows. Stalking closer to him, she stopped directly in front of him, so close their breaths mingled as her fingers played with the collar of his shirt. Chewing seductively on her lower lip, she asked, “Still into living and loving dangerously?”

Beau didn’t respond to that question. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her closer in one swift motion, crashing his lips against hers and sliding his tongue inside her mouth.

“Lock the door,” he ordered her in a deep growl, the need for her painfully pushing against his zipper.

With the door locked, Y/N was back in his arms only seconds later. He devoured her mouth, tasted every drop of her as she moaned and palmed his rock-hard cock through the fabric.

“God, I forget every time how fucking big you are,” Y/N breathed devilishly into his ear and unbuckeled his belt.

“Shit,” Beau panted as her hand crawled inside his boxers.

Not a minute later, she was on her knees in front of him, his pants and underwear pooling around his cowboy boots and his hands caught in her hair, guiding her where he wanted her the most. As her amble lips finally enveloped his thick length, he almost blew his load right then and there. She giggled at his restraint and taunted him even further by brushing her tongue along his throbbing cock, her hand cupping and rolling his balls just the way he liked it.

Goddamn, he had forgotten how good she was at this and how much he truly had missed it.

He decided right there he wouldn’t let another opportunity pass him by. There had been too many over the years, and he knew, soon enough, there would be none left. Y/N was a catch, and he needed to be the guy who caught her before someone else – someone like fucking Ted – got to it.

“Fuck, darlin', don’t stop,” he groaned and closed his eyes as her lips sucked his dick empty.

But Y/N would’ve never dared to stop, loving the way the Sheriff jittered above her and fought tooth and nail to hold out for as long as possible. She loved how much control she had over him, how he bit his lower lip almost bloody, and how his knuckles turned white around the edge of the desk.

“If I let you come down my throat, are you gonna let me in on the case?” Y/N asked and looked up at him, her tongue mischievously teasing his swollen and leaking tip as their gazes met.

“Fuck, yeah…” Beau grunted, having a hard time getting the words out as his nerve endings were electrified. “Already made that decision when you strolled in here, sweetheart.”

“Really?” Surprised, Y/N raised a brow at him, her lips molding around his cockhead before she teasingly retreated again, repeating the torturous action a few more times.

“Shit, yeah… I want you to stay this time,” Beau pressed out through his teeth and harshly squinted his eyes closed.

“Alright,” Y/N replied nonchalantly and smirked up at him. “Thought you’d never ask, Sheriff.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Beau exclaimed louder than he wanted to when her head bobbed up and down his aching length with vigor.

A few more strokes of her sinful tongue, and he spilled hot white ropes of cum down her throat and pantingly watched her swallow every last drop.

Still catching his breath, he helped her back onto her feet like the gentleman he was before the supposedly locked door suddenly burst wide open and a shocked Poppernak blinked at him with even wider eyes, not knowing where to look.

“Uh, sorry, sir! I thought you called!”

Sheriff Arlen then turned the deepest shade of red of his life, this time even visible through his thick beard, hearing Y/N’s amused laugh reverberate in his ringing ears. He was literally caught with his pants down.

And now, Beau was certain he’d never hear the end of it from his deputy.

Hope you enjoyed this one, ladies ✌️

This one-shot serves as a prequel to a series. Read more of this couple here: Polaris 🌌

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373

[bluemerakis]

okay but imagine being stuck in a room with beau, dean and soldier boy and how the dynamics would fucking CLASH 😭😭

soldier boy’s gonna be all up in your ass with some shit he thinks is slick—barely giving you room to breathe while he tries to coax you into his bed. beau’s 100% horrified at the shit streaming from sb’s mouth and he’s getting all protective and steps in to make sure he’s backing the fuck off of you and sb’s either gonna give in with some disdainful sniff before continuing to smoke away his loss or he’s going to throw one on beau and the two start brawling to the death. and then dean, who was happily watching the drama unfold, is eventually gonna step in to break up the fight and shove the two apart to take a breather—and while they’re recollecting their dignity, he starts chatting it up with you like he’d been waiting all this time to let the other two guys eliminate themselves as worthy candidates.

and like,,, don’t get me started on the bedroom dynamic either. im gonna though sorry 🤷‍♀️

oh soldier boy is SO MEAN. SO primal. so. fucking. rough. like shoving your head into the sheet rough, vice grip on your neck rough, and spanking you until you’re as red as the fucking commie flag he despises. that man is ALL about establishing control and revelling in the way you fall apart under his touch. manhandling more like. it inflates his dick as much as his ego to hear you plead for things you shouldn’t want—everything that he can give you. and the mouth on him is FILTHY. he’s calling you that fuckin’ slut, that velvety soft cock-warmer, his little, dirty cum-guzzler with a palate refined just for him. oh, he wants to RUIN you. wants to leave you so internally branded with his touch that you’ll morph into a lock that can’t be accessed by any key other than his. and he’s so. fucking. possessive. not to mention he’s going to see you on top of fucking cloud nine as you’re riding him, and he’s DYING to further raise you to the skies of fucking heaven by making you snort a line from his stomach or some shit. corruption kink most definitely.

meanwhile, beau can barely fathom how you’re enjoying any of it. through the entirety of it all, he’s lowkey giving sb the stank eye for his lack of respect for women—and you, more importantly. And while he knows you’ve fully consented, it doesn’t stop him from checking in with you every now and again—

“still hangin’ in there, darlin’? you let me know if it becomes too much, yeah? i’ll tell this jackass to dial it down.”

and beau, oh my god, he’s the king of checking in. he’s all about making sure you’re constantly comfortable and enjoying yourself—to the point where soldier boy’s making some remark like,

“what’re you—some fuckin’ gimme a c for consent cheerleader? shut the fuck up, grown a damn pair, ‘nd give the woman what she wants.”

and beau’s lugging in the DEEPEST breath of composure with the most disconcerting glare he can muster before recollecting himself and focusing all his attention back to you. his thrusts are gentle, but not weak—he’s hitting all the right spots with each approach and withdrawal. he’s listening to your breathing, the sounds you spew, and constantly reaching to brush the hair from the grip of your sticky face. and he lowers himself to place a kiss to whichever inch of you is most accessible at the time—favouring the curve of your cheek, where it’s easy for him to dip down to your ear and murmur some words of admiration and encouragement. oh he’s such a fucking praiser and words of affirmation guy. and he’s making sure to soothe every bruised part of you that soldier boy leaves behind, almost always sparing the supe a pointed glare that utters some silent claim of and that’s how you treat a lady. he’s littering kisses along your bruises and easing the tender skin with soothing rubs—cradling you and cherishing you like an expensive, one-of-a-kind china.

and then there’s dear, dear dean. this man is WAITING for his time to shine. i can 100% see him not caring for either of the other two men in the room—his attention’s all on you. when sb’s taking you all the way to nasty town, he’s glancing off to some other corner of the room, but can’t help sneaking occasional glances at your visceral, very verbal reactions. and he lowkey digs it. when he’s got his turn to make you feel things, he’s taking it nice and slow—all at your pace. and you know those fucking love-sick eyes he loves casting? yeah, HE’S GIVING YOU THE FULL-PACKAGE SUBBY LOOK. his every grip on your body is intentional—constructed to make you feel like you’re something he absolutely adores and cannot let go of. like a sentimental keepsake he’ll hold close to him for all the years to come. he’s observing every look ghosting across your features, savouring the way you absentmindedly caress him in the midst of your euphoria—revelling in the spell you cast that makes him feel like he’s all yours for the taking. he wants to be. and he shows you it. he’s simultaneously got his hand down under, adding to your stimulation with a skillful dally. and he does it all just to hear the sounds you make—the way you beg for more of him. all of him. and he unequivocally wants to hand himself over to you. his high only comes on after he’s seen yours through. if anything, your undoing spurs him on. and he’s planting tender kisses along your collarbone and jaw and making sure you know just how well you did for him.

“that was. . . freakin’ somethin’, baby. you’re amazing—can’t get enough o’ you. don’t ever wanna, so help me god.”

and you KNOW he’s serious if he whips out the name of the big ol’ guy in the sky.

and then when it comes to aftercare, beau takes the fucking cake—i just know it. in an instant, he’s encouraging you to go and use the bathroom to relieve yourself, making sure you’re physically capable of pulling yourself into a semblance of a functioning human when they’re done with you. and he’s offering you any and all assistance you need before recollecting your clothes and fetching a fresh pair—if any are available. he’s getting you an ice cold glass of water, a little shnaky snack and is ready to give you the cuddle of your life.

dean’s pretty content to monitor you coming down from your high, dragging a gentle palm across your hair while his other hand settles in a gentle frame of your jaw, thumb striking gentle lines across the framework of your face. he’s pretty insistent on short cuddles following the aftermath of everything, going so far as to trap you in a spooning session for a good few minutes before he lets you slip away to the bathroom. and even as you stroll off into the distance, he’s trailing after your every move like a lost puppy that doesn’t know how to utilise his free time. he’s so utterly infatuated with you that he’s got to watch everything you’re doing, and it doesn’t matter what. he’s admittedly not the most forward-thinker when it comes to aftercare, but he’s happy to tend to whatever you need AFTER you bring it up. and he’ll learn it like a routine after a while.

soldier boy does not believe in aftercare. oh my god that man is going to cradle a cigarette with more care than he’s ever shown you once he’s delivered you your high. as soon as he’s blown his load, he’ll let you slump down to the bed if only to admire the absolute glistening puddle he’s reduced you to. and he’s going to wear that smug ass cocky grin—even go so far as to chuckle demeaningly as he drinks the view of you in. he could probably get drunk on that visual alone. and then he’s throwing himself down onto the bed beside you, immediately reaching for that bedside cig. he’ll light it, take a long pull, and offer you a taste. at most, he’ll drape a lazy arm around you, but outside of giving his dick a joyride, you essentially stop existing. he’s good at making you feel used, and he’ll watch you clean yourself up without a second thought of lending a helping hand. he might just say some shit about it that he knows will piss you off because he loves getting a rise out of you.

“what’s with all the pussy-pamperin’? thought you’d marvel at havin’ my baby pumped into you.”

oh he’s such an ass. we love him for it though.

OKAY IM DONE NOW. for now

cheers to @bohemianblasphemy for letting me yap about this dynamic AGESSS ago and now i think it’s time to share a taste of it with the world 😭 YOU’RE EITHER ALL FUCKING WELCOME OR IM SORRY!!! i am SO tempted to turn this into a proper fic SOMEWHERE DOWN THE LINE❗️❗️❗️

i sincerely apologise for the shitty mismatched icons that are lowkey pissing me off but i had zero energy to sift through my pics for ones i haven’t already used and somehow make them match so DEAL WITH IT PLS & THANKS 💪

[deansbeer]

caution! blowjob (m!receiving). slight exhibitionism. beau is big (lmfao). mild language. size kink. domestic themes. soft dom!beau.

notepad! dedicated to all the beau girlies <3 i miss him sooo bad :(

the porch creaks under your knees as you shift, the warm wood sun-soaked beneath you, rough against your skin. the breeze carries the scent of lilacs and cut grass, and from inside the house, you can still hear the twins chattering away, arguing over whose barbie gets the pink jeep. the front door’s wide open, letting in the summer air, but the screen keeps the bugs out — and right now, that’s the only thing separating you from the rest of the world.

beau’s leaning back in the old rocking chair, bow legs spread, jeans shoved down just enough for you to get to him. he’s already thick and heavy in your hand, the head pink and leaking, his jaw clenched tight as he watches you.

“jesus, darlin’,” he mutters, voice low and strained, one hand gripping the arm of the chair while the other brushes your hair back behind your ear. “you sure y’can handle all that?”

you hum around him in answer, sinking lower, your throat stretching to take more, lips wet and flushed. he groans, hips twitching up slightly, but he holds back — always so goddamn careful with you, even when your mouth is full of him.

“goddamn,” he breathes. “you’re gonna ruin me out here.”

you pop off him for a second, spit connecting your lips to his cock, and glance up at him, breathless. “that’s the goal, baby.”

he laughs, the sound wrecked, hand tightening in your hair before guiding you back down. “well, hell. don’t let me stop you.”

from inside, you hear one of the girls yell, “daddy! barbie fell behind the couch!”

he chokes on a laugh, biting his bottom lip to stifle the moan threatening to come out. “just a second, baby. daddy’s busy.”

you just smile, because this is your life now. your twin daughters having their daddy wrapped around their little fingers, sunshine, the smell of cut grass, and the man you love falling apart on the front porch.

✸ stamped. @titsout4jackles @daylighted @soldiersgirl @bluemerakis @beausling @deanswidow @h8aaz @bluestrd @jensenacklesballsack @blue-d @stereotypicalbarbie @fuckedupfate @honeyyxxbee @angelicjackles @bejeweledinterludes @ultravi0lence14 @blossomingorchids @tinas111 @0ccvltism @bruisedfig @thesevnthseal @deanswifeyy @dollyfiles @cupidzbunny @kamisobsessed @suckitands33 @pieandflannel @faiszt @acaibcwl @americanvenom13 @starzify @mahi-wayy @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery ╱ a kissie & a warm hug .ᐟ

[pamwritessometimes]

Fridays are for beer and heartbreak

Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: Your favorite patron’s there to mend your broken heart.

A/N: It's just a little something I came up with the other day. If I'm being honest, I've never seen Big Sky, but I'm a simp for a man in cowboy boots, so... enjoy. 🤍

Warnings: none? oh, maybe that English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad day. For what it's worth, it was a relatively nice, sunny day in Montana terms. Sure, my boyfriend declared the final break-up of our relationship, but to be frank, I was utterly unfazed by his antics; we’ve been in an on-again-off-again relationship for a year now. Not that it was serious in the first place. At least, not for him. And, if I’m honest with myself, maybe not for me either. So yeah, it was a relatively okay day.

Still, there’s something about hearing the finality in someone’s voice, even when it’s a toxic someone, that leaves you feeling a little hollow. The break-up itself wasn’t anything spectacular. Just another drawn-out argument that ended with him muttering some lame excuse before walking out. It had happened so many times before that I almost laughed when he slammed the door shut behind himself.

I was free. Really free. But that didn’t stop the ache sitting heavy in my chest.

I pushed through the rest of my day, the usual routine of prepping for the evening rush at the bar. A glance in the mirror told me I looked the part: western boots, worn-in jeans, a dark brown suede jacket I loved more than I probably should, and my hair pulled back just enough to stay out of my face but still look effortless. I should have felt like myself. I was supposed to be this confident, tough woman who didn’t need anyone to mess with her head, but tonight… I just didn’t have the energy to be that.

The bar was packed, as it usually was by this time of the night. The usual crowd was in full swing, with the sound of old country and blues tunes playing from the jukebox and the steady clink of bottles being set on tables. It was one of those oldie bars that still had that charming and rustic atmosphere, like time stilled between its four walls. That night, I stayed behind the counter more than I usually did, letting the other servers handle most of the tables. I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk or listen to the same old stories I’d heard a thousand times. I didn't have the energy for that either.

Then, Beau walked in. Right on schedule.

He had this easy confidence about him, something I noticed the first time he came in months ago. It was in the way he held himself, like he could command a room without trying, but somehow never made a big deal about it. Tall, broad shoulders, chestnut hair that always looked like he just ran a hand through it after a long shift. And those eyes, green, like the pines up in the mountains after the rain.

He always came in around this time on Fridays, right after his shift ended. Sheriff of Helena by day, patron at my bar by night. There was something comforting about the routine of it. Maybe because he was the closest thing I had to a friend here, even though we were more like two people who enjoyed each other’s company but kept everything else at arm’s length. Still, there was always something unspoken between us, something that hung in the air when he sat down at the bar.

Beau slid onto the barstool closest to me, the one he always sat at, and gave me a smile that eased the ache I’d been feeling all damn day.

“Evening” he said in that slow, easy drawl of his, laying his hat on the counter. “How’s it going, darling?”

I forced a smile, pulling a cold beer from behind the bar and sliding it across to him without asking. He always ordered the same thing, and I always had it ready for him.

“Same as always” I replied, but even I could hear the flatness in my voice.

His eyes narrowed a little as he studied me, and I could feel his gaze linger on my slight but easily visible frown. He had a way of seeing through me like he could tell when something was off even before I said anything. 

“You sure about that?” His voice was anything but pushing. It was the way he asked, like he already knew the answer but was giving me a chance to speak first.

I glanced away, grabbing a towel and pretending to wipe down the already squeaky clean countertop. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Just… had one of those days, you know.”

Beau took a long sip of his beer, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

I let out a breath and leaned on the bar, dropping the towel and meeting his gaze.

“He broke up with me. For real this time.” I hadn’t planned on saying it, but the words came out before I could stop them.

He raised an eyebrow, but there wasn’t any hint of surprise in his face. It’s like he not only knew it was going to happen, but anticipated it too. “You mean, finally?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, a short yet sharp sound that felt good coming out. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Beau didn’t say anything right away. He just sat there, watching me with those damn eyes that made it hard to keep things light. I couldn’t keep anything light with him. Not now, not ever.

There was something deeper there tonight, something that had always simmered between us but felt more dangerous now, like we were toeing a line neither of us had been willing to cross before. 

“You good with that?” His voice was softer now, the edges so much gentler, and it felt like a real, genuine question, not just some small talk or polite chitchat.

“Honestly?” I asked with a sigh ”I’m better off. I know that. But… it still stings, you know?”

Beau nodded, and something flickered in his expression, something almost protective. His gaze softened matching his voice. “You deserve so much better than what he was giving you, darling.”

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with underlying meanings. I knew what he meant. I knew he wasn’t just talking about my ex, and that’s when the tension snapped into something sharper, something deeper. I felt it in the way he was looking at me now, not as the bartender he chatted with every Friday, but as someone he cared about. But could that be the truth?

Maybe I wasn’t just his bartender either. Maybe we’d been dancing around this for too long. I leaned in slightly, not even realizing I was doing it until I saw his gaze drop to my lips. The bar around us seemed to fade, the noise, the people...none of it mattered in that moment. It was just me and Beau and the weight of everything unsaid between us thick and obvious in the air. 

“You gonna be alright?” he asked finally, and I couldn't help but notice how his voice became an octave lower... intimate in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

“I think so” I whispered.

But my heart was pounding, not from the breakup, but from the way he was looking at me. Like maybe, just maybe, he’d been waiting for this moment as long as I had.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad day.

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day, loves. 🤍

[winchestergirl2]

March Reading Recs 2025

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, who take the time to give us all these incredible stories (for free), allowing us to escape into these worlds. Here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

Reading Recs Masterlist

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Between The City & the Stars Part 4 | Part 5 @zepskies

Authors Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

If I Stay Part 1 | Part 2 | @zepskies

Authors Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

Safeguard (drabble) @maddie0101

Authors summary: After a bad nightmare, you seek comfort in Dean’s arms.

Sam Winchester

Safe with you @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery

( ☕️ ) - Mornings: Were Made For You - Sam Winchester @keoriwnch

Authors Summary: Sam Winchester is an annoyingly perfect morning person, and you are not. Waking up without him next to you is already a struggle, but when he tries to coax you out of bed with coffee and soft kisses, you realize maybe mornings aren’t so bad—at least, not when they start with him.

Tracker

Russell Shaw

Rivers & Roads Away @impala-dreamer

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Hope in Broken Places Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | @jessjad

Authors Summary: Moving to and living in Montana had once been a necessary thing for Beau. But three years later now he loved it. His daughter by his side, some new friends he had made. Only problem was that Beau, an alpha in his mid-fourties, starts to feel the effects of not being mated. Will he become feral or is fate on his side one last time?

When Control Slips @agirlwithdemonblood

Authors Summary: Beau Arlen struggles with his unspoken feelings for his younger deputy, leading to a dangerous outburst that threatens their undercover operation and forces him to confront what he’s been hiding all along.

Paperwork @unsuperingyournatural

Here @unsuperingyournatural

Dawsons Creek

CJ Braxton

Sweet Talks & Sales Pitches @wendichester

Authors Summary. cj tries to convince you to join the stand

Smallville

Jason Teague

Coach Teague | Part 2 | @wendichester

Authors Summary: There's a new coach in town and suddenly football has become interesting!

[rositaslabyrinth]

Mornings like this - Beau A

Beau Arlen x female!reader

Mornings with Beau are slow, golden, and full of love—the kind you feel in your bones.

Warnings ; smut (morning sex), fingering, implied condom use, aftercare, domestic fluff, established relationship

Word count ; 1,300

Minors please do not interact !!!

The sun filtered in slow and golden, slipping through the crack in the curtains you forgot to close last night. You stirred against Beau’s chest, his arm draped loosely over your waist, hand resting just under the hem of his shirt you’d worn to bed. His breathing was deep and steady, lips parted slightly, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

You didn’t move. Not yet.

These mornings were rare—no calls from the station, no cases, no interruptions. Just him and the warmth of the bed you’d never want to leave.

“Mm,” Beau’s voice came low and gravelly, still laced with sleep. “You starin’ at me again?”

You smiled. “Maybe.”

He cracked one eye open and grinned, hand tightening on your waist as he shifted, pulling you closer. “Can’t blame you, sweetheart. I’m a sight in the mornings.”

“You’ve got serious bedhead,” you teased, fingers sliding into his messy hair anyway.

He caught your wrist and kissed the inside gently. “Lucky for me, you seem to like it.”

“I like all of you.”

Beau hummed at that, his hand slipping beneath the hem of the shirt you’d stolen, fingertips tracing slow circles along your lower back. His voice dropped, a little rougher now.

“We don’t gotta be anywhere, right?”

“Nope.”

His smile turned lazy, wicked in a way that made your stomach flutter. “Then I’m thinkin’ we make the most of it.”

His mouth found yours in an unhurried kiss, one that tasted like sleep and sunlight and everything good. You sighed into it, your fingers curling against his chest, nails skimming the line of hair that disappeared beneath the sheets.

He rolled you onto your back, warm hands sliding beneath the fabric of the shirt you wore—his shirt—and pushing it up slowly, reverently. His gaze lingered on the soft skin he revealed, eyes dark and full of something tender and hungry all at once.

Your body arched slightly into him as his hand drifted lower, cupping between your thighs through the thin fabric of your panties. You let out a soft gasp, your hand grabbing his wrist lightly.

“Beau…”

“You want me to stop?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He nudged the curve of your ass with his hips, and you could feel he was already hard.

“No,” you whispered, tilting your head to give him more of your neck. “Don’t stop.”

That was all he needed.

His fingers pushed your panties aside with practiced ease, his touch featherlight at first—just enough to make you squirm. He groaned quietly against your skin when he felt how wet you already were for him.

“God, sweetheart,” he breathed. “You always this ready for me in the morning?”

“Only when you’re in bed with me.”

He chuckled, then slipped one finger inside you, slow and teasing. Then another. His rhythm was steady, patient, coaxing little moans from your lips with each curl of his fingers. Your hips rolled into him, chasing that pressure, needing more.

“Beau,” you gasped, turning your head to kiss him, messy and wanting. “Please.”

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured against your mouth, voice husky.

“You.

It came out like a plea. So he pulled back just long enough to tug your panties down and push his boxers off. You heard the rustle of the sheets, the faint sound of him reaching into the drawer beside the bed.

You turned to face him fully, pulling him between your legs. His body hovered over yours, one hand braced beside your head, the other cupping your thigh as he pushed in—slow, thick, deep.

You gasped at the stretch, the way he filled you so perfectly it almost hurt. He stilled for a moment, forehead pressed to yours.

“God, honey,” he groaned, breath shaky. “You feel like heaven.”

He started to move—long, slow thrusts that had your back arching off the bed. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together, pinning them above your head as he rocked into you, building a rhythm that stole your breath.

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, over and over, and you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

When you came, it hit like a wave—your body tightening around him, mouth falling open in a broken moan. Beau kept moving through it, chasing his own release, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom with a low, desperate groan of your name.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his skin warm and flushed.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. Just soft breathing and the distant hum of the morning outside.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he said finally, brushing hair from your damp forehead.

You smiled, sleepy and satisfied. “You ruined me first.”

Your body was still humming when it was over—warm, satisfied, and completely wrapped in him. Beau didn’t move right away. He stayed close, chest pressed to yours, hand smoothing gently along your side like he was trying to soothe every part of you back into stillness.

“You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your damp forehead.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice quiet and full of something tender. “More than okay.”

He kissed your shoulder, your cheek, your lips—slow and lingering. Then he pulled back just enough to study your face, his expression serious in that gentle Beau way.

“Gonna get you cleaned up, alright?”

You nodded, letting him help. He moved with that quiet attentiveness he always had, slipping out of bed and grabbing a warm towel from the bathroom. You watched him through heavy eyes, completely undone by the way he cared without ever needing to say much. The towel was soft, the touch even softer as he cleaned you up, murmuring sweet things under his breath—you were perfect, you were beautiful, I’ve got you.

When he was done, he eased back into bed beside you, arms gathering you close again like he couldn’t stand being too far away. Your head found the curve of his shoulder, your fingers tracing lazy shapes across his chest.

“I love mornings like this,” you said softly, voice still sleepy.

Beau hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Me too.”

A beat passed before he shifted beneath you. “Stay in bed. I’ll make breakfast.”

You groaned. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said, nudging you down against the pillows. “You just relax, sweetheart.”

You heard him moving around the kitchen a few minutes later—drawers opening, the faint clatter of a pan, the soft buzz of country radio turned low in the background. The smell of coffee drifted into the bedroom, rich and comforting.

When he came back, he had a tray balanced in one hand—scrambled eggs, toast, a couple slices of bacon, and a mug of coffee with exactly the amount of sugar you liked. He placed it gently on the nightstand, then climbed back under the covers with you, letting you curl into his side again while you picked at the food.

“You spoil me,” you murmured between bites.

He smiled, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “That’s the plan.”

You ate in bed with the sheets still wrapped around your legs and Beau’s hand resting on your thigh. Everything outside the walls of the bedroom was quiet. Still. And for once, there was no rush to leave the warmth of this moment.

When you were finished, he took the tray away and came back just to pull you into his chest again, settling in like he belonged there—because he did.

You fell asleep with your hand over his heart and his fingers tangled with yours, the weight of his love wrapped around you like a blanket.

And in that moment, you knew—you could live a whole lifetime in mornings like this.

Liz talks : just a short little thing while I wrote something longer in the meantime !!! Beau is actually my fav character to write for so you all will def be seeing more of him TRUST!!

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