˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚cutie𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

in love with my cowboy sheriff husband °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[beauscutiewife]

cutie ּ ֶָ֢.𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ 20 yrs ּ ֶָ֢. capricorn ּ ֶָ֢. she/her ּ ֶָ֢. beau arlen enthusiast ּ ֶָ֢. side blog to archive about my husband ּ ֶָ֢. mdni pls

will be updating this with links to all my sections like fics, gifs, art, and more! btw my asks r open!! please yap or request something (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

cutie gifs.⊹˖ᯓ꣑ৎ. ݁₊

cutie fic recs.⊹˖ᯓ꣑ৎ. ݁₊

cutie art.⊹˖ᯓ꣑ৎ. ݁₊

cutie memes.⊹˖ᯓ꣑ৎ. ݁₊

cutie asks.⊹˖ᯓ꣑ৎ. ݁₊

cutie writes.⊹˖ᯓ꣑ৎ. ݁₊

[phantomrose96]

You know, an interesting tumblr transformation that's happened gradually, and which I've seen no one talk about: ask-culture has essentially dropped off to nothing.

By which I mean, asks used to be WAY more of the tumblr economy. They used to be more common to send, and receive, and see. They were integral to the collaborative, forum-like behavior of old tumblr communities, not even to speak on the HUGE number of ask-blogs that used to exist to only be interacted with in ask-form.

I'm not saying this in a vying-for-attention way but instead in an observational way: I used to get way way more asks in like 2015, even with a fraction of my follower count. I wonder if it's due to the homogenization of social media sites? There's a lot more of this divide between "content creator" and "consumer" instead of just a bunch of peer blogs who would talk to each other. "Asks" aren't really a thing on twitter, are they? And as I understand it, the closest thing to an "ask" on instagram or tiktok would be a creator screenshotting some comment and responding to it in a new reel or video or whatever those content mediums are. Are asks just too tumblr-specific? Is that aspect of the site culture dying out as more and more people converge to using all their social media sites in the same way?

[pendragyn]

it's probably from assholes making asks a minefield of trolling/harassment for years with no real blocking ability, which turned people off from allowing asks on their blogs so as a whole the site moved away from it

but now that we do have better blocking, we should try to revive it.

[triflesandparsnips]

Reblog if your ask box is open.

[becauseofthebowties]

JENSEN ACKLES as BEAU ARLEN in BIG SKY | 3.01 Do You Love An Apple

[beauscutiewife]

Beau🤤🤤🤤

so true (,,>﹏<,,)

[kissthigh]

Babysittin' ୨ৎ

summary: After a series of break-ins in your town, your parents suggest that Beau Arlen, your dad’s best friend, watches over you. You figure that out a little too late and end up in an embarrassing situation. He doesn’t seem to mind helping you with it, though. ♡ warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, smut, guided masturbation, nothing freaky, sweet beau arlen <33, talking you through it, pet names, no mentions of y/n, self-insert, user is 21+. .ᐟ.ᐟ : somebody requested this like two days ago, and it's been making me drool ever since, omg. i had to asap.

It was happening too often, the break-ins in your neighbourhood.

It started with a few residents complaining about their cars being busted open at night, the occasional knock at the door past twelve, until it escalated into a full-fledged break-in, leaving the usual small, quiet town shaken and disturbed.

You only knew the details because of Beau Arlen, the head Sheriff, who just so happened to be your dad’s closest friend. You overheard on a Tuesday evening, as your dad and Beau sat on the back porch with a few beers in hand. Your dad had briefly mentioned leaving you alone for a few days, and Beau immediately protested, negotiating something about him watching over you. You had walked away too soon, disappearing into your room.

Friday came around quicker than ever, and your parents were kissing your forehead, reminding you of a few safety rules you thought were damn pathetic. You were old enough to drink, to go to college, to go to bars, to do everything a grown woman can do, and suddenly, they were treating you like you were incapable of everything; you reassured them that you could take care of yourself, and you’d be fine.

Walking up the stairs, you glance behind you, the headlights pulling out of the driveway, and you bite your lip, already deciding a few things you wanted to do–you never had any alone time; your mom was always just a few rooms down, your dad was constantly wanting you to help him with something, or the neighbourhood kids were on your hip.

You were finally alone, and you were going to take advantage of it.

Lying on your bed, the door cracked open just slightly, you stare at the ceiling, feeling your heart beating out of your god damn chest. You had only touched yourself a few times; lousy experiments when your friends bragged about their latest hookups over drinks at the bar, mentioning how good it felt to ‘finish’, and here you were, completely and utterly broken.

Not really broken, but your fingers never worked properly, and your head was always disconnected, and your mind was always a mess, and someone was always walking in. You hadn’t finished in your entire fucking life, and it felt like you were missing out on some central part of womanhood that your friends always talked about. It was brutal.

You were tired of hearing it, your friends always mentioning how good their boyfriends fucked them, how every night they were having the greatest sex of their lives, and here you were, struggling to feel a damn thing. 

You swallow hard, your hand sliding down into the front of your flimsy PJs, and you shift your hips awkwardly, scrunching your nose. Everything feels stiff, like your fingers are trying to write in a language you don’t speak; meaningless ‘circles’ you’ve heard about, the light presses, and you’re groaning, tipping your head back in pure frustration.

“Kid,” a low voice suddenly calls into your bedroom, and your eyes absolutely bulge out of your head, hand frozen in the front of your shorts, and all you can do is stare.

This isn’t a fucking intruder, not a masked man wielding a knife, asking you for money or wanting your mother’s jewelry; it’s Beau Arlen, and he’s just as surprised as you are.

Beau stands frozen in your doorway, his eyes raking over the situation; your body against the mattress, blankets and sheets rustled, your hand in the front of your shorts, clearly doing something that you shouldn’t be doing, and he can do nothing but stare.

“I’m–” you stutter, slowly sitting up, blinking.

“Hey–hey… no, no, y’okay, it’s fine,” Beau suddenly reassures awkwardly, a hand lifting to rub the side of his jaw, looking behind his shoulder. “Guess… y’er daddy didn’t tell ya’ I was lookin’ after you,” he laughs, trying to smooth over the moment.

“No–no… uhm, yeah, no,” you nervously mumble, shaky hands pulling your blankets over your lap, covering any evidence. “I’ll… I’ll be down in a minute,” you shake your head, biting your lip.

Beau stands there, sighing heavily at the sight of you; flushed cheeks, sweat brimming on your forehead, and suddenly, his caring, sheriff mode kicks in; keep her reassured, comforted, safe. The type of thing he’d do after a kid is startled by a car wreck, or a woman is crying about her fucking house being burned down.

“It ain’t have to be awkward,” he chimes in, still standing in the doorway. “It’s normal, ya know? Completely… fine,” he drawls, his words smooth and low, and you can just stare at him.

“I… I wasn’t doing anything,” you deny, shaking your head.

Beau wouldn’t admit it, but he definitely saw before coming in; your head tipped back in frustration, the knit in your eyebrows that showed nothing but a girl that hadn’t felt a damn thing in her life, and he was willing to help.

 Would he bring that up? No.

“Okay, darlin’,” Beau grins sarcastically, his eyes widening as he rolls them, and he’s about to turn around, to leave you to… finish whatever you were doing.

“Beau,” you say softly, and he stops, turning back around, resting his thumbs behind the leather of his belt.

“What, sweetheart?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, and stray hairs dip from his forehead, cascading in front of his eyes.

“Don’t… tell my parents, or anything,” you mumble, shaking your head again.

“Secret is safe with me,” he nods, and you smile nervously, almost forgetting how gentle and kind he really is. He has to be; he deals with the public all day.

Silence stretches in your bedroom, and Beau doesn’t turn around. Instead, he slowly begins to walk in, sighing as he glances around the old space.

“M’remember when ya’ had princess wallpaper in here,” Beau laughs, looking at the solid colour walls, your room neatly decorated to your own interests, opposed to dolls and whatever else you liked when he had first met you.

“Well, I’m kind of… old now,” you laugh nervously, and he laughs too.

“Old?” Beau asks with a raise of his eyebrows, groaning softly as he sits on the edge of your bed, right near you. “Tell me about it,” he mumbles, one hand resting against his thigh, the other one rubbing his scruff.

“What? You’re not that old,” you shake your head, gazing at the side of his face; his eyes now have crinkles in the corner, wrinkles deeply set in his forehead, green eyes a little more tired, and he no longer walks around clean-shaven. 

He looks better this way, you think. Rough.

“Forty-seven soon, darlin’,” he practically scoffs, turning his head to look at you over his shoulder, and you’re smiling, biting your lip.

“That’s… young,” you say, but your delivery is all wrong, and he laughs again, shaking his head.

“What’re you then?” Beau asks, adjusting his hips against your bed, and it creaks.

“Also young,” you shrug, and he scoffs, leaning back to pat your leg through your blankets.

“M’remember bein’ your age; had a girlfriend, thought she was m’wife,” Beau tells you, ticking his head sarcastically.

“That’s already ahead of me,” you reassure him with an innocent nod. “I don’t… well, I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you admit, and the way he looks at you makes it look like you just committed a serious offence.

“Get outta here,” he dismisses, waving his hand, only to realize you’re serious, and you really are a boyfriend-less thing.

“Why do you think… I’m…” you laugh awkwardly, and he instantly clears his throat at your implication.

Yeah, that’s why you’re touching yourself.

“And how’s that goin’ for ya’?” Beau asks, and you suddenly notice his jaw working, chewing his gum.

“Bad,” you mumble shyly, looking into your lap, thighs pressing together beneath your blankets.

“Bad?” he asks, turning to fully face you, bringing one of his legs a little more onto the mattress. “Jus’... doesn’t feel good?” he continues, actual concern knitting into his features.

“Doesn’t feel good, yeah,” you shrug, suddenly realizing what you’re talking about. “I… I don’t think I’m doing it right,” you casually admit, your eyes meeting his.

“What makes ya’ think that?” Beau presses, rubbing his beard again. “M’sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

“No,” you immediately respond, tone firm. “I’ve tried, Beau, and it doesn’t work, I’m broken, and everything is broken, and my body is broken,” you ramble on, dramatically sighing.

“Hey… hey, no, that ain’t mean nothin’,” he shakes his head, chewing on his gum again. “You jus’ don’t know what y’er doin’,” he explains, ticking his head.

“I’m not… gonna watch videos, that’s weird,” you retort, and he nods, agreeing.

“Maybe someone could show ya’,” Beau shrugs, his hand rubbing his thigh through his jeans. “Would help ya’, darlin’.”

Silence fills your bedroom again, and you sigh quietly, shifting in your bed, staring at Beau, who looks like a giant in a dollhouse. You blink slowly, taking in his words–no one in your damn life can show you a thing. No boyfriend, and you’re definitely not asking your friends.

“Like you,” you mumble, biting your lip, holding your breath,

“Like me?” Beau asks, his tone too unconcerned, almost like he expected it.

“Well–yeah… you had a wife, I think, I don’t know,” you explain your thoughts, trying to hint that he’d be more experienced.

“You want me... to show ya’ how to touch y’erself,” Beau repeats back your thoughts, and you smile, your hands covering your face in embarrassment.

“Just an idea,” you give up, dropping your hands into your lap.

“‘Kay,” he mumbles, nodding. “I’ll show ya.”

“What–I was–” you pause when you notice Beau is already adjusting himself, getting a little closer to you, gesturing for you to move closer. And you immediately do.

“C’mere,” he drawls, that Southern accent suddenly thick.

You sit against the headboard of your bed, and he shifts up a bit more, coming to your side, though he still sits against the edge, his body twisted slightly to face you. He puts a hand on your bare calf now that your legs are out from the blankets.

“Take y’er shorts off,” Beau directs you, his thumb tapping your calf.

You hesitantly nod and begin slipping them down your legs. When they reach your calves, he immediately starts helping you with them, pulling them off and tossing them aside, leaving you in just your underwear, legs lazily open. He’s holding back from just touching you.

“Ya’ ever do foreplay?” he quietly asks, still rubbing your calf, and you shake your head.

“Baby, ya’ can’t jus’ start pokin’ around,” Beau laughs, shaking his head at how naive you are, and you whine, tipping your head back against the headboard in frustration. He shushes you, shaking his head at the small outburst.

“Listen t’me,” he starts, his tone serious, and he slides his hand down, lightly holding your ankle. “Not judgin’ you, sweetheart, jus’ wan’ make you feel good,” he explains, clenching his jaw.

You sigh shakily and nod again, glancing down between your thighs at your pastel pink underwear, a bow at the top. And he’s smiling at it, wanting to reach out and tug the little lace.

“Two fingers,” Beau suddenly mumbles, his green eyes finding yours. “Gonna jus’... rub them over the front of y’er underwear, okay?” he directs.

You hesitate, but slowly slide your fingers down, doing slow movements against the front of the cotton. Something works because you twitch a little, a new feeling blooming between your thighs, and Beau watches, working the gum between his teeth.

“See? That make you feel all warm n’ nice?” he asks, and you quickly nod, breathing heavier.

“Yeah–just… yeah, it feels good,” you mutter, keeping a slow pace, feeling your fingertips dampening, and you realize this has never happened to you. Dear God.

“Good, sweetheart,” he reassures, still gently rubbing your ankle. “Keep rubbin’, jus’ workin’ yourself up,” he explains what you’re doing, guiding.

You tip your head back a little, your toes lightly curling into the sheets beneath you, and he smirks.

You pick up the speed a little, and Beau watches closely, eyes gazing between your thighs. He can see the wet mark settling right in front of your fingertips, and he briefly wets his lips, looking around your bedroom for a second, your head tipped back against the headboard.

“Is–is this right?” you mumble through clenched teeth, and he instantly snaps his head back, watching your fingers moving in those stupid circles. He nods.

“Yeah… that’s good, darlin’,” Beau reassures, his voice dropping into that tone that wraps around your heart and squeezes slightly.

“It’s… it’s not enough,” you complain softly, and he swallows hard, grunting in understanding.

“Not supposed t’be,” he shakes his head, sliding his hand up your ankle and to your calf. “Gotta be wet,” he explains, and you hold your breath, groaning as your head tips back.

“Beau,” you mumble, your voice slightly strained, beckoning him to continue.

“M’know, sweetheart,” he coos, tapping your shin. “Jus’ a few more seconds,” he reassures again, watching your fingers stick to the same speed.

Your fingers continue to circle lightly against the cotton, the friction providing little relief, and he can see the frustration on your face again, the same expression he saw through the cracked door. He clenches his jaw, moving a little closer, and his hand holds your knee.

“Wanna take off y’er underwear?” Beau asks, and you instantly nod, stopping to tug down the fabric.

He assists you when it reaches your knees, and he carefully helps the pink cotton down the rest of your legs. His fingertips glide on your leg in the process, and your legs fall open just a bit.

“Gonna do those same lil’ circles, ‘kay?” he prompts, his eyes gazing between your thighs. “On your clit though, baby,” he explains more, and you hesitantly nod.

Beau watches your hand slide down again, and you gasp softly–you’re wet, and it’s almost like the first time you feel it, the slick gathering on your fingertips, and he curses under his breath. He knew you didn’t know how to touch yourself, but seriously, not even getting wet before?

Your hand lightly fumbles between your thighs, and you place your two fingers against your clit, doing the same circles, and your head instantly tips back. Your mouth hangs open in surprise, suddenly feeling an odd pressure, all accompanied by pleasure. 

“Yeah, atta girl,” Beau encourages, his hand lightly rubbing your bare knee. “Slow, darlin’, no rush here,” he says, shaking his head, his thumb grazing a bruise.

“Oh, my gosh,” you whisper under your breath, and he’s watching closely, tongue running along his teeth. “This–it feels… yeah, feels good,” you tell him, your bottom lip caught between your teeth,

“Yeah? M’glad,” he drawls quietly, his lips parting as he watches you.”Keep goin’.”

You groan softly, your breath coming out in heavy huffs. Beau watches closely, analyzes the way your tongue slips out in concentration, your fingertips moving slowly but skillfully, and he has to bite back a groan of his own.

“Am–am I doing it right?” you ask again, eyes glancing at him; he’s nodding, breathing heavier himself.

“Doin’ perfect,” Beau tells you, still rubbing your knee. “I’ll tell ya’ if you need ta’do somethin’ else,” he explains, scratching his beard with his free hand.

“Beau,” you moan softly to him, and he tilts his head to the side at the soft sigh.

“M’know,” he murmurs to you, rubbing your knee. “Move y’er fingers a lil’ quicker,” he tells you, and you instantly comply, moving in tight circles.

Beau obviously knows what he’s doing; electricity goes through your body, and you moan louder this time, your legs falling open more, and he watches carefully, his eyes darkening at the sight. 

“Lookin’ real pretty, sweetheart,” he praises lightly, sliding his hand down your inner thigh now that he has more access with your spread legs. “You’ll look even prettier when ya’ finish.”

You whine at his words, pursing your lips together as your head grows fuzzier and fuzzier. You swallow hard, feeling an unfamiliar tightness in your lower abdomen, and your eyes shoot open, mouthing hanging open. Beau notices.

“Aha,” Beau laughs in amusement, his free hand rubbing over his mouth. “All tight in there, huh?”

“Yeah–I’m–” you choke out, moving your fingers quicker than before, and you can do nothing but whine to him, and your reaction clearly endears him.

“You can cum, sweetheart, you got it,” he encourages, rough fingertips gently tickling your inner thigh, and you giggle. 

You fucking giggle through the moans, and Beau just about loses it.

“I can cum… I-I can cum,” you repeat through gritted teeth, reminding yourself.

“Yeah… be a good girl n’ cum f’me,” Beau taps your thigh, a light encouragement, and you groan.

“I-I can’t,” you groan out, biting your lip, and he watches you, rubbing your thigh. ‘Please,”

“Can help ya’ if ya’ really need it, baby,” he offers, nodding.

You feel Beau’s hand sliding up your thigh more, and your legs part even further, and his middle and ring fingers replace yours. You whine at the new touch; the tips are warm and rough, calloused hands used to handcuffing people and shooting guns, now light and focused just on you.

“Makin’ ya’ feel good, yeah?” he asks quietly, and you nod again, quicker, biting your lip. “Want ya’ to watch me,” he demands, and you slowly look down.

Beau’s hand, much bigger than your whole damn body, is currently working against you, coaxing the sweetest sounds out of your mouth, and you’re being forced to watch, to learn.

“See, darlin’,” he drawls, leaning just a bit closer. “Slow circles, ain’t gotta rush a thing.”

“Mhm, mhm,” you mumble, watching, hips twitching.

“Nothin’ broken about y’er body,” he tells you, adding more pressure. “Jus’ needed a lil’ help is all,” he smiles, and you look up at him; his eyes heavy-lidded, the green dim in the lighting.

“Mhm,” you agree again, and he chuckles at your reaction.

All you can do is mumble and nod and watch, that’s all your body is letting you do.

“What about inside, sweetheart?” Beau asks, his voice low. “Ya’ ever tried that?”

“Mhm–didn’t… didn’t feel very good,” you shake your head, fully believing that fingering was a myth. It only ever felt awkward, like something wasn’t right.

“Well, probably ain’t doin’ right,” he laughs again, sliding his fingers down just a bit, now lightly pressing against your entrance. “Need to be careful n’ slow,” he reassures, pushing in.

You gasp when you feel just the tips slip in, and he watches your eyes flick open, a light flashing behind them. It definitely feels awkward, but less now that you’re actually turned on. 

“M’gonna be real slow f’you,” Beau reassures you once more, sliding his fingers in, and your head immediately tips back, and your back arches.

“Beau,” you moan at the feeling, gasping for air, the feeling completely foreign. 

“Y’er okay, ain’t need to tense up,” he mumbles, and your teeth grit, groaning.

You can feel his fingers inside of you; pressing and moving around, skilled adjustments, pressing firmly in places that have your toes curling into the sheets again, meanwhile his thumb keeps up those circles. He knows what he’s doing. Clearly. 

“Cum on m’fingers baby,” Beau murmurs, his accent thicker when he whispers. “All over em’, it’s fine,” he coos, fingers curling.

You’ve never felt anything like it in your life; it’s a burst of warmth through your body, a sudden heat spreading through your abdomen, and you’re holding your breath the entire time, gently gripping the bed sheets beside you. A sudden heat covers his fingers, and your eyes open, your body limbless.

Beau watched the entire thing. Your body went limp against the headboard, and you’re panting, a mess all over your damn bedsheets, and he’s in awe–the noises, the expressions, how pretty you looked finishing for the first time in your life. And it was because of him; he was all you could think about.

“There… there ya’ go, baby,” Beau mumbles softly, shifting closer, his hand sliding down your thigh, wet fingers trailing behind. “You okay? Feelin’ good?” he asks, eyes exploring your blissed-out face.

“Again,” is all you mumble, and his jaw ticks. “Please.”

It’s going to be a long night, and he can’t blame you.

[beauscutiewife]

beau alren inspired playlist

𓈒𓏸.°•simple man • lynyrd skynyrd

𓈒𓏸.°•fortunate son • creedence clearwater revival

𓈒𓏸.°•this kiss • faith hill

𓈒𓏸.°•save a horse (ride a cowboy) • big & rich

𓈒𓏸.°•have you ever seen the rain • creedence clearwater revival

𓈒𓏸.°•just between you and me • april wine

𓈒𓏸.°•carrying your love with me • george strait

𓈒𓏸.°•perfect • sara evans

𓈒𓏸.°•simple man • lynyrd skynrd

𓈒𓏸.°•doggone cowboy • marty robbins

𓈒𓏸.°•sweet home alabama• lynyrd skynyrd

𓈒𓏸.°•cat's in the cradle • harry chapin

𓈒𓏸.°•old time rock and roll • bob seger

𓈒𓏸.°•fox on the run • sweet

𓈒𓏸.°•green river • creedence clearwater revival

𓈒𓏸.°•spirit in the sky • norman greenbaum

𓈒𓏸.°•the lucky one • faith hill

𓈒𓏸.°•ring of fire • johnny cash

𓈒𓏸.°•proud mary • creedence clearwater revival

𓈒𓏸.°•tuesday's gone • lynyrd skynyrd

𓈒𓏸.°•cry • faith hill

let me know what you guys think of the playlist!!! also is this format good?? idk?? n e ways love u guys ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

[bruisedfig]

Secretly hooking up with 𝓑eau 𝓐rlen in his trailer late at night would be so healing. Nobody knows the town’s most respectable sheriff is fucking his best friend’s daughter in positions that would make any regular person sick. Nobody knows you walk around town full of him after he breeds you in the backseat of his truck. Nobody knows the filthy words you share in secret, begging him to whisk you away and fill your womb until it sticks. Just you and him.

[starrychildofthemoon]

Your phone gallery; life with husband Beau

[beauscutiewife]

oh my god this is so sweet and silly (,,>﹏<,,)

[beauscutiewife]

I made a new mood board of beau and wanted to tell you cause I always think of you along with him now :33

yayayayayyay!!! omg (⸝⸝> ω <⸝⸝) running to go check it out rn!!! i love u so much!!

[beauscutiewife]

been thinking about making a playlist for beau.. (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝) thoughts???

[vicqchesters]

tbh

[bruisedfig]

Fauxcest beau arlen is my kryptonite I NEED IT FIG I NEED IT-

So glad you agree

okay and what if i say one night you get a little too drunk and honest with beau, confessing how—at times—you get jealous of his relationship with emily, and how you wish you could be her sometimes.

and his drunken face just crumbling, softening into a look of despair at how vulnerable and broken you really are.

you just need a dad. someone to rely on. someone to care.

and so the next morning you wake up, both groggy from the alcohol and the late night, he rolls you over, despite your soft protesting, and says, “shh, baby. just let dad take care of you. let me make my girl feel loved.”

[vanillambs]

im a beau arlen fauxcest truther 🙂‍↕️ like i think he’d just take on his role as your dad with his whole being

[viktosins]

I need to be his controversially young girlfriend

[bruisedfig]

what do you think beau's kinks are?

hmm. lots of thoughts on this ( 18+ )

୨ৎ ── Praise, both giving and receiving. Beau is already majorly affectionate out of the bedroom, but the petnames and praise intensify the second he’s inside your sweet warmth, cupping your face between his hands, murmuring gently about “how well you’re taking it.”

୨ৎ ── Semi-Public Sex, in his office at the precinct with the blinds closed, trying to keep as quiet as possible. In the backseat of his truck on a quiet street late at night, laughing at how stupid it is behaving like teenagers. Out the front of his trailer after a night of drinking, against the front door, your legs wrapped around his hips, his mouth attached to your neck. Always a ‘spur of the moment’ thing.

୨ৎ ── Daddy Kink, that maybe eventually develops into a dad kink once you both get more comfortable. Sleepily mumbling into Daddy’s neck in the early morning light before he leaves for work. Groaning to Daddy about how he “feels so good” when he’s slowly thrusting himself into you. Blubbering to Dad when he’s overstimulated you with his lips sealed around your clit, gently licking and sucking.

୨ৎ ── Edging / Light Orgasm Denial, which pairs nicely with his dominant/daddy side. Beau isn’t mean, but he can tease and punish when he deems fit—edging you for talking back during a serious conversation, denying your climax after you bratted all day. You can beg and plead all you like, but Beau is staunchly in control. And you know it.

୨ৎ ── Breeding, which is like duh. Filling his sweet little baby with heavy loads, taunting the odds. Nothing gets him more worked up for another round. Watching you leak his fluids has his cock already chubbing back up.

୨ৎ ── Cockwarming, especially when you’re both tired. Or when he’s working, typing away at his desk—either at home or at the precinct if it’s late enough at night. But mostly he just prefers at home on the couch or in bed.

୨ৎ ── Dom/Sub Dynamics, but being referred to as ‘sir’. Lots of ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’. And of course ‘Daddy’.

୨ৎ ── Body Worship, again, both giving and receiving. Pressing kisses over every part of your body, often leaving little bruises of love in his favourite spots. It’s even better when you allow him to tie up your hands, forced to feel every kiss of his affection, often receiving the most love between your legs. The same goes for him, worshipping his cock while you’re on your knees below him, lazily sucking him off while he relaxes on the couch with a beer in hand.

୨ৎ ── Teasing, but more so being teased. Perhaps over text when he’s busy at work or out with friends/colleagues. A nude picture or even a video of you playing with yourself, which he stares at completely gobsmacked, with his phone under the table and cock twitching in his jeans. Beau is big on foreplay, and teasing just so happens to be his favourite type. So he enjoys your bratting, the way you talk back, pretending to ignore his growing frustration. Or how you walk around in nothing but your tiny underwear and t-shirt, just asking for it without actually asking for it.

୨ৎ ── Cowboy / Sheriff Roleplay, enough said. The cliché ‘damsel in distress’ thing. Or cop and criminal roleplay, with the whole “Oh, I’m so sorry, Sheriff. How could I possibly ever make it up to you?” type of thing.

୨ৎ ── Spanking, nothing overtly abusive, but firm enough to correct your behaviour when he deems you worthy of punishment or when you’re both in need of a physical release, finding a joint way to let out frustrations or suppressed feelings. Spanking would only come once he’s made sure you’re fully okay with it—it’s not something he’d just do. He’s a gentleman before anything else.

[dollislvt]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. oh to be held tightly by him. my dream.

[bruisedfig]

──── dad’s best friend .ᐟ 𝓑eau 𝓐rlen who drinks a little too much at one of your family’s backyard parties and can’t help but pull you away from all the commotion. As you two stumble up the side of the house, you see the drunken affection in his eyes. It’s that same fondness he usually keeps hidden whenever he’s around you, buried deep beneath that infuriatingly diplomatic exterior of his.

When he manages to crowd you back against the bricks, his hand cups your cheek, and whatever words he’s speaking seem to blur into mumbled background noise. It falls silent, and the moment changes, just leaving that soft solemn look on his face. Beau sighs like it hurts to exhale, a deep shaky breath from the bottom of his lungs, and admires how beautiful you are under the slivers of silver moonlight.

“My sweet girl,” Beau finally breaks the silence. “Why were you born too late for me?” His tipsy murmuring is gentle, and his words hang in the air, bereft and full of anguish, like the universe itself is playing some cruel trick on the both of you. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly, looking for any glimmer of understanding of this convoluted mess you’ve both found yourselves in. He knows he can’t have you, and you know it too. He continues, his tone still hushed and pained, “You were made for me, you know? The most perfect thing in the world that I’m not allowed to have.”