#beau arlen blurb

[tortureddarkstar]

✩ SHE

LIVES FOR THE MEMORY / / A WOMAN WHO’S JUST IN HIS HEAD

BEAU ARLEN X GN!READER

EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DNI.

summary: beau can’t get you out of his head

warnings: blowjobs, gagging, (borderline?) somno

inspired by: she- harry styles

beau had officially broken the record for being the neediest man ever. it was only 9am and he had already pitched a tent in his pants.

he’d assumed that his morning would be as routine as always, beau would wake up, remind you of last night and then leave for work. but today, you’d reversed the roles and instead, you’d decided to wake him up with undoubtedly the best head he’d received in his 46 years of existence.

and now, flashbacks of the last hour had been rolling in his mind instead of solutions for this weeks criminal. as he stared blankly at his computer screen, beau played back this morning.

how he could feel you before his hazed mind even registered what was going on. how your hands splayed themselves out on his lower abdomen as your face nuzzled into his sweatpants. how those same deft hands palmed him before releasing his throbbing length.

before opening his eyes, he remembered revelling in how your hands stroked him oh-so-softly before feeling your warm mouth on him.

beau recalled extending a hand down to your head to cradle your hair, pushing you down his cock, eliciting a light gag from you and an endearing groan from him when his tip nudged the back of your throat.

he remembered mumbling out words of praise before opening his eyes, feeling heaven at the picture in front of him. you, naked as your body draped over his lap, arched to take him as best as possible.

beau groaned again, this time in agony, as he glanced at the clock above his office door. 9:15, it read. the tent in his pants hadn’t magically disappeared nor had it stopped aching.

beau realised he’d have to deal with these visions of you all day, practically living in his daydreams.

yeah as you can tell, i’ve finished watching big sky and am sort of on a beau arlen high. sorry not sorry lol- n.

[little-wicked10]

Now I’m crying and horny…what is happening??? Hitting me in my insecurities😭

Headcanon: Body Insecurity/Appreciation

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @roseblue373. 💜 It's a special one to me personally, being plus-sized myself and having gone through my share of insecurities. Wish I had one of these guys to make it better lol!~

Prompt/Request: Great job with the latest Dean/Beau/Ben reacts vignettes! I'd love to see one where reader has put on weight and isn't happy with their body, and how each would make her feel better!! IF the muse agrees, of course! ❤️

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to your body insecurity.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Established relationship, body insecurity (but also body appreciation), thicc thirty, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, spiciness/smuttishness.

Dean Winchester

You've started breezing past mirrors when you get out of the shower.

Because if you catch sight of your own reflection, you can't help but utter a sigh, your lips dipping into a frown.

In the privacy of the room you share with Dean in the bunker, you take a risk in unwrapping the towel from your body in front of the mirror.

You inspect yourself with growing dejection, noting all the places that are rounder, heavier, less firm than they used to be.

Looks like no amount of running down leads and killing monsters has been enough to keep you in shape.

Too much shitty fast food, too many times you indulged yourself with snacks and dessert alongside your foodie boyfriend.

"What'cha doin', sweetheart?" Dean asks. He steps into the room while wiping donut icing from the corner of his mouth.

Speak of the devil.

When Dean finally catches you frowning at yourself in the mirror, you inhale sharply and close the towel back up.

"Nothing. Just need to get dressed," you reply quickly. "Shower's open."

You try to offer him a smile, despite the pang of jealousy when you eye him.

He gave you the first chance at the shower after the latest case wrapped up, so he's still wearing most of his FBI suit, sans jacket. The white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, a few days of scruff neatly trimmed across his cheeks.

The man can cram an entire pizza down his gullet and wash it down with three slices of apple pie, not to mention countless beers. And still, Dean stays looking downright edible.

By comparison, you feel...fat. Like you've let yourself go.

You turn away from him to grab your well-worn sweatpants and an oversized shirt; you plan to change alone in the bathroom, but Dean grabs your arm.

"Who says you need to get dressed?" he says, popping his brows with a suggestive grin. He slips his arms around your waist, but your instinct is to shy away from his hold. You chuckle awkwardly and avoid his now curious gaze.

"Sorry, babe. Um...I'm wiped. I just want to get to bed," you say.

But Dean isn't fooled. His spidey sense is tingling, and his gut is almost never wrong.

His hand slides down your arm and grasps your hand, tugging you back into his arms. You utter a little gasp, but you ultimately smile at his familiar grin. There's a perceptive gleam in his eyes though.

"You know, seems like you've been pretty wiped lately," he says, raising a brow. "It's been a while since we, uh..."

He waggles his brows playfully, squeezing your hips. You want to smile, but you can't let yourself. You can't quite look at him either.

For Dean, it's another glaring red flag. His lips form a frown, and he dips his chin to find your eyes.

"Hey," he says. "What's goin' on? Talk to me."

His tone is so sincere, you have to blink against the sting of tears. Your lower lip wobbles, and Dean frowns in earnest. He presses a hand to your cheek and gets you to look at him with your watery eyes.

"Sweetheart, you gotta tell me what's wrong," he says, more gently, but serious.

Eventually, you're able to get it out. You can't bear the thought of him touching you, because lately, you can't even bear looking at yourself.

"I know I've been gaining weight, I just..." your voice breaks, and you gesture haphazardly at your body. "I'd get it if you're not really into this right now."

Dean's heart clenches. He's downright shocked at your confession, and more than a little disheartened. He presses a hand to your cheek and guides you to look at him.

"All right, hold up just one damn minute."

His calloused fingers gently brush away your tears, but his hands keep moving, slowly traveling down your body. They slide down your bare arms, skimming the sides of your breasts.

Your breath hitches. Your hand is still fisted over your beating heart, keeping your towel closed. His hands continue to move, molding to the curve of your waist over the fuzzy fabric.

"I'll admit, we've been pretty busy lately with everything we've got going on. But if you think that means I'm ever not into this delectable, sexy, voluptuous, goddess body you got rockin' the house?" he says, grinning that utterly Dean grin of his.

You bite your lip against a bubble of laughter. He's too fucking much sometimes.

Dean tugs you closer, until your hips fit snugly against his through his slacks. His tall, broad frame crowds you. His lips skim your cheek, then over your lips in a tease.

He squeezes the flesh of your hips, tender and sensuous.

Your heart flutters at the feeling.

"Mmm, I like you nice and soft," he murmurs against your cheek, close to your ear. "Feels that much better when I fuck you."

A small gasp gets trapped in your throat, while the gravel depths in his voice go straight to your pussy in a pulsing throb of warmth.

By the time he claims your lips in a devouring kiss, you're all too willing to let him peel your towel open, drop it to the floor, and guide you backwards onto the bed.

There he'll take his time, forging yet another mental map of every plush square inch of you.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a busy man. You understand that.

As Sheriff, his job demands a lot from him. He's also a father and has an ex-wife to contend with. (You knew that going in, and you've come to love Emily too.)

However, you can't help but start to take it personally when your sex life begins to suffer. He's often claimed being tired...but there's another suspicion that's been taking root in your mind, feeding your doubts and insecurities about how your boyfriend sees you, and about how you see yourself.

When you slip into bed at night, a kiss goodnight is all he gives you lately, before he's sighing deeply and closing his eyes, his soft snores soon filling the room.

One night, you try touching his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his bearded cheek. He hums at the pleasant feeling.

"You wanna...?" You trail the question in his ear, pressing more sweet kisses down his neck.

"Aw, sweetheart," he groans. "I'd like to, but I think I'd just smother you. I'm about to pass out."

You huff a laugh. You teasingly walk two fingers across his chest. "What if I make it easy for you?"

You shift onto your side. Resting a hand on his chest, you lean down to kiss him. He hums at the softness of it, but the more passion you try to imbue into each new kiss, Beau isn't as responsive as you would like. Eventually, you stop all together.

You frown, becoming disheartened. "You're not into this, I guess."

He opens his tired eyes, gazes up at you in apology. He opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it.

"You know it's been a month since we've had sex," you say.

Beau frowns, sliding a hand up your back. Only now does he notice, with appreciation, the familiar silky négligée you're wearing.

"Nah, that doesn't sound right," he says.

"Well, it is," you say. "I know you say you're tired, but I mean, you've had this job for as long as I've known you, Beau." Your eyes fall away from him. "So is the job, or...is it me?"

Beau's brows furrow. "Now wait a minute."

The mere thought dredges up what's been plaguing your mind recently, and it has your throat tightening. Tears of embarrassment and upset well up in your eyes, no matter how much you try to push it down.

You push away from him and turn away, crossing your arms. You try not to look at yourself in what used to be your favorite lingerie.

You can't stand the extra weight you've put on, mostly in your hips and ass, but in your middle and arms too.

You've gone through your own stress at work this year, with less and less time to try and take care of yourself, along with making sure Emily gets to and from school, cooking for the three of you, going to PTA meetings when Carla can't make it (since Beau often can't), and every other proverbial hat you wear.

Beau follows you, sitting up and laying a hand on your back. "Sweetheart--"

"I know I've put on a few. Hell, more than a few," you admit, hastily wiping under your eyes. "God, I can't even look at myself right now, let alone have you--"

"Hey. You stop right there," Beau says, more firmly. He gets you to turn around with his hand on your shoulder. He doesn't like the way you're curled in on yourself, as if hiding your body from his gaze.

That, and the sight of your tears damn well break his heart.

He cups the side of your face gently and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, followed closely by your lips.

You don't want to melt, but you just can't help it. You cling to the front of his shirt and lean into his kiss, like you've been lost in the desert, and his lips hold the breath of life.

You almost don't realize it when his arms slip around your waist. He earns a surprised yelp from you when he gathers you close against his chest and rolls you underneath him.

You land against the pillows in a huff. You stare up at his playful smile, his green eyes glinting with amusement, with fondness, and also with desire as they roam over your breasts, barely contained by dark green satin and lace.

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he says. His voice is a low, earthy drawl as his gaze rakes over you. His big hand runs down your side and over your hip, then down your bare thigh, squeezing soft, tender flesh. He slips that hand under the satin night gown.

His hand can't span your entire thigh, but it's not for lack of trying. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm at the way he looks at you, your breath hitching when his thumb dips between your legs, brushing against the damp, silky fabric of your panties.

"It's not because I don't find you sexy as hell. Believe me, darlin', I do," he says. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, especially when you're all laid out for me here."

And he means what he says. You know it by the hardness you feel pressing against your hip. You slip your fingers into his hair with a sigh.

He bows his head to press kisses along your neck; down and down, he noses at the thin strap of your night gown. His path of kisses continue, and he indulges himself by dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts.

"Filling out this lacy little thing so nice," he murmurs into your skin.

Your upset has turned to abject relief, but you still have to blink away the remaining urge to cry.

You let out a slightly tremulous breath.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask.

Beau pauses. He pulls away, just so he can look up and meet your eyes. He still finds insecurity in yours, so he meets you with a kiss filled with heat and intent.

He's now wide awake. He plans to take his sweet time taking you apart, inch by inch.

In fact, in the back of his mind, he also plans to do better about letting his deputies help him out more at the precint so he can have a better work-life balance.

(Because going a whole damn month without the taste of you is "no bueno," in his words.)

Soldier Boy (Ben)

The man may not be very patient, or particularly perceptive, but he's not an idiot.

At least, not about sex.

He knows that you've been feigning tiredness, and generally avoiding his touch.

What's strange is that you haven't been avoiding him. You still cook for him, still share conversation with him, still insist on having him spoon you on the couch while catching him up on the past four decades of TV shows and movies.

But when he begins to sneak a hand under your oversized shirt (an old one of Ben's), caressing your hip, then dipping down to your softer stomach on the way to your panties, breaking your concentration from the movie as unease laces down your spine.

You grab his wrist on reflex, instead lacing your fingers together.

"What's the matter now?" he asks.

You look over your shoulder at him and find him frowning at you, a divot between his brows. You don't manage to hold his gaze for long.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just, um, tired."

Ben doesn't believe you, and he's direct when he calls you out on it.

Reluctant to put what you've been feeling into words, you pause the movie and leave the couch (and him) behind.

Ben is annoyed enough to follow you (and underneath, he hides an edge of concern). The conflict leads into the bedroom, where you're still unwilling to open up.

He finally stops you from walking away from him, pinning you against the dresser by your hips. He practically looms over you as he demands an answer. He knows you're hiding something — something that's had you reluctant to let him touch you.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" he says, a raw edge of warning in his tone. "What, are you fucking somebody else?"

Shock flashes in your eyes, making you angry. "What? No!"

"Well, you seem to be getting your fill somewhere, and it hasn't been from me--"

"Are you fucking serious? I'm not..." Your lips purse. You're actually hurt that he would hurl that accusation your way--and it couldn't be farther from the truth.

You tug your long shirt downwards and cross your arms, but it's more like you're hugging yourself, shielding your body away.

Ben's brows furrow a little bit more.

Eventually you get it out; you haven't been feeling up to being intimate because you're having a hard time even looking at yourself lately.

"I know I need to, um, get back in shape," you say, taking in a shaky breath to try and steady yourself. Your throat constricts, the beginnings of tears stinging your eyes. You want to look at anywhere but at Ben. "I just haven't had much time, with everything going on. But Annie gave me this guide on some different diets, like intermittent fasting, Keto--"

"Fasting," Ben intones. "What, you wanna fucking starve yourself? What the fuck is Keto?"

You sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"No, not starve myself. And Keto's just..." The idea of trying to explain the new diet craze to your boyfriend is too daunting a task to consider. "Never mind. The point is, I have a plan. My hips, my thighs, my ass--"

Ben squeezes your hips at the mention of them. He happens to like the softness.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra. So fucking what?" he says, his voice deep and exacting as his gaze roams over your body. "Just gives me more to hold onto when I'm fucking you."

You utter a shocked laugh. "Ben!"

He grins lazily, and he turns you this way and that, admiring you from all angles. In his eyes, he doesn't find a side he doesn't like. You can't help but blush hotly under his gaze.

"Sweetheart, do whatever you want if it makes you feel good. But you don't need to starve yourself." His hands move to your ass, squeezing a bit harder on the plush flesh.

A yelp escapes you; he's pressing into you from the front as well, and you feel him heavy and already half-hard against you. You grab onto his arms for stability as your breaths quicken.

His attitude kind of surprises you, even though it soothes the frayed, insecure part of your soul that wants to be as beautiful and attractive in his eyes as he is in yours.

Ben is literally a super soldier. You're actually kind of jealous. The man can drug and booze hard and eat whatever the hell he wants, but his super metabolism just seems to absorb it into his washboard abs.

(The more you think about it, the more you want to smack him.)

Nothing about him isn't hard and lean, muscle and strength.

Only his hands have a measure of gentleless when they're holding you like this.

"I've just got so many stretch marks now," you begin to complain, in an emotional whisper.

He snorts. "And? You think it's anything I haven't seen? I'm not afraid of a little cellulite either."

At that, your head tilts in consideration. Butcher's Granny Fucker remark comes to mind. You bite your lip against a smirk.

Ben crooks a curled finger under your chin. He guides you to meet his eyes, before he lures you into a lusty kiss.

It's somewhat rough because of his beard, but you still smile afterwards, leaning against him now.

"Ain't nothing about you that I can't handle," he adds, all smirking and cocky. To prove his point, he hooks those strong hands behind your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders. From there, he makes quick work of ridding the oversized shirt from your body, revealing you to the cool air and his hot gaze.

You take his face in your hands and bring him in for an even steamier kiss, your heart lighter and trembling with anticipation.

You've held yourself from him long enough, Ben thinks, and he has every intention of devouring you right on your old dresser -- before you two even get to the bed.

AN: 😮‍💨 I feel like each of these could've been even longer with their own one-shot loll. I wrote the Midnight Espresso-verse for Dean, partially to explore what his relationship would be like with a plus-sized reader. 💖💖

Let me know which one you liked most this time!

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[wchswift]

✧⁠*⁠。FOLLOWERS EVENT

hiii, thank you guys sm for the 125 followers!! It means a lot to me to see that you appreciate my writing <3 cause of this I wanted to do some small celebration 🥳

the celebration is open to anyone who wants to join! ☺️

￫ 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒆𝒃 𝟏𝟕𝒕𝒉, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

⛥ the events!!

🦇 bat - send me this emoji + a headcanon for a character and i'll write a short blurb/scenario about it! ⋆⸻ 🪽 fallen angels - send me this emoji + a character/fandom and tags and I will give you fics/authors recs! ⋆⸻ 🌺 sweet flower - send me this emoji + a song, scenario or a prompt from this list or this + a character and i'll write you a short one-shot! ↳ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒆��𝒊𝒇𝒚 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒐𝒓 𝒈𝒏! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ⋆⸻ 🖼️ aesthetics - send me this emoji + a character/fandom/group + a dynamic, vibe/aesthetic, or something like that and i’ll create a moodboard base on what you send in! ⋆⸻ ✨ yap time - send me this emoji + any question you want, something you wanna know about me or anything you wanna share!

⛥ characters that I will write for!!

─ supernatural

⦁ dean winchester ⦁ sam winchester (I don't usually write for him but I will for the celebration)

─ marvel

⦁ logan howlett ⦁ loki laufeyson ⦁ valkyrie

─ others

⦁ steve harrington ⦁ soldier boy ⦁ eddie alden ⦁ leopold mountbatten ⦁ beau arlen

￫ ꣖ ີ ꣓ navigation

[deansbeer]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐑' 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ♡

for more, head on over to NAVIGATION. & LIBRARY.

please respect my boundaries !

SEND YOUR REQUESTS THROUGH MY INBOX ─── requests are easier to navigate through and help keep me organized.

i have the RIGHT to refuse any request i feel uncomfortable writing. so please do not go & harass me in my INBOX or DMs. i won't hesitate to block you !!!

001. ACTOR CELEBRITY or CHARACTER.

𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑.

⎯⎯ no characters . . . ★

𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍.

⎯⎯ anakin skywalker | sam monroe | james kelly | clay beresford . . . ★

𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒.

⎯⎯ dean winchester | soldier boy | beau arlen | alec mcdowell | c.j braxton | jason teague | jake gray | ben mcdowell | russell shaw . . . ★

𝐏𝐀𝐔𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

⎯⎯ brian o'conner | john rahway | lance harbor | dean sampson . . . ★

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐘.

⎯⎯ rafe cameron . . . ★

𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐈.

⎯⎯ sam winchester | dean forester | cordell walker . . . ★

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐘.

⎯⎯ tristan dugray | austin ames . . . ★

002. WHAT IS ACCEPTABLE & NOT.

𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃.

female reader | fluff | angst | smut | blurbs | drabbles | series | hcs | fwb | domestic fluff | brother's bff | pregnancy trope | breeding kink.

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃.

rape | incest | bdsm | torture | male reader | scat / piss | ddlg | yandere | certain kinks | self harm.

003. IMPORTANT.

𔒌 the content on my blog is NOT for minors. i'm not trying to be crude, it's just that i don't feel comfortable with kids under the age of eighteen following or interacting with my blog.

𔒌 my blog however is a SAFE SPACE for everyone and should be treated as one. i won't put up with any form of homophobia, racism, sexism, negativity, or hate. it's not cute or fucking funny. keep that shit to yourselves. i'll just block you, simple as that.

౨᭪ DEANSBEER © please do not plagiarize or repost my works on other platforms.

[darkmisstressofunknown]

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RoadFood // PBS RoadFood

Some Things I Still Can’t Tell You

Jensen & Misha Misc Tags

Jensen and Misha // JenMish Video

♦ Yaoi Misc Tags ♦

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Ai no Kusabi // The Space Between // ANK

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♦ Misc Tags ♦

Reference

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Jenny Talks // Random Blurb

♦ Writing Misc Tags ♦

Writing Community // Writing Suggestions // Writing Help

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♦ Fandom/Misc Tags ♦

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Fanfiction

Archive Of Our Own // AO3 Stuff

This post will be continuously updated or modified as individual projects or tags are added on the master list. 

[tortureddarkstar]

✩ NIGHTS LIKE THIS

RED WINE KISSIN’ IN THE HOUSE THAT YOUR PARENTS / / GOT FOR YOU, RENTED, HOW’D YOU FORGET IT?

BEAU ARLEN X GN!READER

EXPLICIT CONTENT.

summary: beau’s nightly post-work ritual

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, groping

inspired by: nights like this- the kid laroi

beau arlen loved kissing. whether it was a small peck or a full fledged make-out against a wall- he loved it.

his favourite, however, would be the nights he came home. to beau, being away from you for 9 hours was like being away for a whole week, so in order to remedy this, beau ensured he spent at least 15 minutes on the couch with you on his lap, legs on either side of him, lips locked.

he would use those 15 minutes like they were gold. beau would have one hand on your thigh, gripping and massaging, while the other was either tangled in your hair or pressed into your back, keeping you encompassed in his grasp.

beau revelled in the taste of your lips, reminiscent of the wine you two would have shared while watching a long-forgotten movie. every moment would be spent biting, licking or sucking at your lips, making sure to draw out moans of gratitude into his ears.

beau could spend hours entangled with your lips- he’d definitely gotten off to the thought of it before. but the one thing he’d take over this would be taking you to bed and having you every which way. putting his lips to use in various places, making it his mission to trace every crevice with his pillowy lips, marked with memories of every intimate moment shared with you before this.

it was nights like these that healed his well-worn soul.

[tortureddarkstar]

✩ WAITING ROOM

WHO AM I TO ASK FOR MORE, MORE, MORE? / / BUT YOUR’E BREATHING IN MY OPEN MOUTH

BEAU ARLEN X FEM!READER

summary: bring back yearning men 2025

warnings: kissing, inexplicit hints to sex, shameless yearning

inspired by: waiting room- phoebe bridgers

beau would always watch you. sometimes it felt like his eyes were stuck to you- he just couldn’t look away.

he was your superior, he couldn’t be chasing after one of his detectives, especially one almost ten years younger than him. god, he had to get a grip.

but how when you just looked so beautiful? it was as if it was the only thing beau could register anymore; the beauty of your smile, your eyes, your hair, the way your mind worked. it was all he could think of.

even on movie nights when it would be you, hoyt and cassie sitting on his deck watching whatever ryan gosling flick you’d settled on to annoy beau, he still found his eyes stuck on you and he just couldn’t look away.

even during department parties when you’d walk in with whatever guy you’d found on whatever dating app, beau’s eyes just wouldn’t leave you.

even when you’d catch him. when you’d feel eyes on you and immediately you’d look at beau to catch him red-handed. but his eyes still wouldn’t stray yours. it was like your eyes could speak the words your mouths couldn’t.

when they’d lock glances it was like they exchanged flashes, memories of every moment you’d shared with him. nights in beau’s bed, in his office, his car, because it wasn’t just his eyes that were magnets to you, it was entire being.

your eyes were the waiting room and he would bleed out forever if it meant he’d get to look at you.

a/n: i just had to get this out of me. it’s probably obviously unedited but i saw an edit of rivals and i just felt like beau would 100% be an emily brontë-jane austen type of man who only lived to yearn. -n

[tortureddarkstar]

✩ A NONSENSE CHRISTMAS

YOU SAID YOU LIKE MY STOCKINGS BETTER ON THE FLOOR / / BOY I’VE BEEN A BAD GIRL GUESS I’M GETTING COAL

BEAU ARLEN X FEM!READER

EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DNI.

✩ BACK TO… NOURA’S CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

summary: sometimes beau forgets to pay attention to you, but that’s fine- he just needs a little nudge.

warnings: suggestive, stripping and making out

inspidered by: a nonsense christmas- sabrina carpenter

clothes were strewn all over beau’s cozily decorated living room, in a desperate-sex kind of way, initiated by a beau’s-been-on-the-phone-for-far-too-long-and-you-got-frustrated kind of way.

sure he was a sherrif and he had responsibilities to his job and his town, which you respected. but he also had responsibilities to you, more so your needs.

that’s why, when beau was around seven minutes into his phone call with poppernak, you’d decided to begin unwrapping his christmas gift early.

you thought it’d be cute to surprise him, he’d been working so hard recently and his girlfriend dressed up in a morally dubious mrs. claus costume should have been the remedy. it should have sent him into a frenzy, helping not only himself but the ache you’d felt for the past week, yet the engrossment in pop’s ramblings rather than you told you more than you needed to know.

you stood up from your place next to him on the sofa and started with the velvety red santa hat, deciding to throw it at him, grabbing his attention.

as beau moved the red obstruction from his sight, you’d moved to stand a few feet in front of him and began sliding each strap of the teeny-tiny red dress off your shoulders, fully committing to the show when you began pushing your breasts together as you let the straps hang.

now his attention had returned to you.

beau, who was becoming increasingly hard and just as frustrated as you had been when he came home, began to lose focus on whatever pop had begun talking about and he adjusted the flimsy red hat over his crotch, a poor attempt at ignoring his need but he couldn’t find it in him to stop looking at you.

holding his eye contact, you reached to your side and unzipped the red fabric, shucking it off and letting it fall and pool in a ring of red and white around you on the floor, revealing a matching lace bra that sent beau’s façade finally crumbling.

he was quick to stutter out a half-assed goodbye to pop before throwing his phone somewhere and walking over to you. he was even quicker to latch his hands around your waist, mrs. claus’s hat in his hand.

“couldn’t wait, could’ya?” beau murmured, beginning to pepper kisses around your neck and just under your ear. “naughty girl.”

“you gonna give me coal, put me on your naughty list?” you quipped out, leaning your head back, granting beau access to litter a pathway of kisses down your chest while granting yourself access to take the hat off of his hands and place it on his head.

“‘m gonna give you more than coal.” beau said, pecking you on the lips murmuring what sounded like a ‘damn vixen.’ before lifting you over his shoulder and carrying you to your shared bedroom, leaving the mess downstairs as a pleasant reminder to never leave any gift unwrapped.

a/n: first installation of my christmas special!!! divider creds🤍🤍: @estrelinha-s -love, n.