𝐝𝐢'𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚

“𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥.” ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ (𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲)

[dibelladonna]

𝒅𝒊'𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂 / 𝟐𝟐 / 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 °⭒˚｡⋆

𐙚🧸ྀི 18+ MDNI: nsfw content, self-insert + character content, taboo fics

𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔: pinterest ao3 apple music

older (a dbf!beau arlen fic)ִֶָ

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗mood board for older ✮⋆˙

ʚɞ coming soon: dean winchester x dancer!reader

[dibelladonna]

✶⋆.˚ Older ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ pt. 8

(18+ MDNI)

started: aug. 1, 2026

total word count (so far): 14,662

Read me on Ao3! ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

⋆˚࿔ Find all the Parts Here 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

tags🏷️ :

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of y/n for reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can, taboo themes, Daddy Issues, probably fauxcest i'm sorry

Chapter 08: Caving In

WC: 4.03k

Rain began to fall harder while he sat in his car fifteen minutes after pulling into the gravely parking lot. He recognized the car your friends drove, he didn’t bother figuring out names. Ricky? Elliot? Didn’t matter, any boy around you was trouble, in Beau’s eyes at least. Maybe your dad would’ve been a little more lenient on who you went out with, but knowing there’s a curfew set out there for young adults, disobeying her father’s best friend? 

You weren’t any less of a sinner than Beau was, the question that still stood: what would he do, now?

He’d held on long enough, tried to be a God honest man for his best friend, for his town, but he couldn’t take it anymore. 

He took his key out of the ignition and threw the butt of his cigarette onto the damp ground, looking up at the sign illuminating above, 

GINO’S PUB

Beau grins to himself, sucking his tongue between his teeth like he always does, and walks through the double doors. Country and rock music blares through the bar, groups of college kids have filled the bar, laughing and drinking, dancing and getting lucky in the corner. Where are you, sweetheart? He takes his cowboy hat off before shuffling through the crowd.

Don’t be shy, darlin.’ 

He spots Shayla first, coming out from the bathroom with messy hair and clarity glowing in her eyes followed by a tall, scrawny man. Beau’s eyes scan the entire building before spotting you–

With a man inches away from your face.

A man your age.

It was a normal sight, nothing wrong with it to the average townie around, but for Beau it was hell. His own personal hell, seeing the one thing he desired for longer than he’d like to admit, gazing into the eyes of another. 

You were laughing, biting your lip to some sarcastic comment the man said before taking a longer sip of God knows what. He hated when you drank more than you could handle, he didn’t mind taking care of you but the idea of harming such an angelic figure? Beau wouldn’t have any more of it.

His boots echoed through the music, it was only a matter of moments before you saw his angered eyes your peripheral vision, 

Before you know it, Sheriff Beau Arlen, in the flesh, has the stern father stance, hands shoved in his pockets waiting for you to say something. Anything. Shayla and Rodney are peeking from the pool table, while Jeremy just aimlessly stands there chewing on a nicotine pouch. Beau’s pulse thickened, blood pumped through his veins of the thought of where this prick’s hands had been.

“Evenin’ darling,” he starts, rubbing his coarse hands across his beard. You can’t deny he doesn’t look perfect, his hair frames his face perfectly and even when he’s pissed, Beau aged like a Napa wine. “Thought I might find you inna’ place like this.”

Beau takes another step closer to you, but you bat your eyes away before he can say another word. You already know you’re screwed, there’s no denying that.

Jeremy chuckles, a hiccup escaping his throat. “Is this like your dad or something?” 

“No–”

“Well I mighta’ ‘swell be,” Beau cuts you off, before pulling you away from the other man by the nape of your neck. You yelp when his cold hands meet the bare skin. 

“What do you think you're doing?” You shout, but there’s no use when he’s dragging you out of the honky tonk. He’s silent for the walk out of Gino’s, and to the truck, and by the time his key turns in—he’s still not saying a word.

“Beau this is ridiculous,” You continued, crossing your arms in the passenger seat. He switches gears and turns out of the parking lot, flashing lights onto the main road before speeding up. “What you did back there was uncalled for, I was having a good time and–”

“Darlin–’” 

“No, don’t do that. You don’t get to ‘darlin’ I’m just a grumpy ol’ man’ no. No sexy Texan accent, Beau. I’m a grown adult, if I want to go out with my friends, and flirt with meaningless men–”

Before you can say another word his hand clasps your mouth shut from the driver’s seat, making eye contact with you instead of keeping his eyes on the foggy road. 

“Sweetheart,” his voice got lower, eyes still focused on you, now moving down to your thighs. “You keep it up with the attitude and I’ll make that pretty throat of yours aching and sore by the morning–you hear me?”

Beau never spoke to you that way, never in that tone either, not since the day at the lake, with what almost could’ve been. You nodded quickly, thighs squished together to keep yourself from shaking. 

You’d never admit it aloud, but his tone, talking to you like he was your father, made your panties wet. 

“Who was he?” He takes his hand away from your lips, moving down to your thighs. 

After a swallow you answer. “Nobody. Just someone I met while I was there.” “I told you not goin’ out past this damn curfew, sweetheart. That meant no honky tonks, no partying, no going out without my knowledge.” Beau was passionate in his anger, his grip around the wheel tightening along with his grip around your thigh. 

You didn’t say anything for the rest of the drive, not with a dizzy head and soaked panties from a man twice your age, your father’s best friend. Instead, your head rested on the window with eyes closed shut. Beau continued to look over at you, felt his jeans grow tighter just from looking at you. 

Neither of you knew what would’ve happened when you got home, your home. Beau practically was your father for the time being, and he took his role very seriously, except for the occasional remarks. 

Those remarks, the comments he’d give you, whether you were asleep or just too naive to figure it out, he wanted you. 

Your head shot up when Beau pulled the truck into park, shutting it off and opening your door for you. With one hand extended, you took it and followed him inside the house. Beau makes his way to the butler’s pantry and pours himself a glass of bourbon, brushing the flavor across his lips and keeping his focus on you. 

“Go ahead and lean on that,” he points to the marble countertop. 

Without a second thought you follow his orders, making your way to the counter, resting your arms above your head against the cold surface. Footsteps trailed behind you, unable to see him in the corner of your eyes. Beau’s hand brushed up the back of your leg, racing up to your thigh slowly snaking both hands around your waist, going for the button of your shorts. 

With a gasp escaping, Beau pulled the denim past your knees, he let a whistle out from the sight of your panties. This was now the second time he’d seen you like this, bare and now aching for him. A man you used to get piggyback rides from as a child, who’d tie the laces of your shoes and make fun of the broccoli in between your braces. 

That same Beau was throbbing beneath his jeans, the fire inside him only grew hotter, flames out of control. 

“Look at you,” he hums. “Such a pretty little thing, who could ever corrupt such a beautiful girl?”

Your eyes peered up, all big and glossy trying to make out what was going on inside his head. This wasn’t the Beau you once knew, he had become domineering within a matter of moments – and there was no complaint. 

Cheeky and laced, he massaged your skin, threw the fabric, before a hard slap came across your butt. You yelp, in an attempt to move your head up Beau’s hand entangles your hair and keeps it down, another slap followed after.

“You wanna keep behavin’ like a child?” He growls, another slap, this time it leaves a red mark on your bare skin. “This is what bad girls get.” With every wince a wave of pleasure rushes through the burning sensation, it’s nothing you’ve ever felt before. A single tear runs down your cheek, all the air sucked in comes out in a single exhale after he lays the final blow. 

Beau raises the shorts back up to your waist, turning you to face him, zipping and buttoning up the shorts. He raises your chin up to look at him, a sly smirk painted across him. 

There are no words to convey what’s going through Beau’s head right now, by the look of lust in his eyes, the hunger, a million thoughts raced through your head. 

“I’m sorry,” was all that rasped out. In an attempt to look away, his grip around you tightened, keeping direct eye contact with each other. Tears began to form in your eyes, there was no explanation as to why.

Was it his demeanor towards you changing? The strikes against your skin, how it felt to be controlled by a man? The man in front of you, Beau, the person you thought you knew was not the same man. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” he pulls you close into his chest, rubbing your messy hair with his big, charcoal stained hands, each finger running through a different strand. 

“You’re alright,” he repeats and pressing his lips on top of your head, continuing to kiss all around your head while you breathe in his smokey pheromones. He smelled of cedarwood and tobacco, a hint of spice flooded the nostrils with each inhale. 

You picked your head up, hesitant with glossed eyes focusing on his expression. Unreadable, there was no telling what could go on in a filthy mind like Beau’s. With a bitten lip you reached up on the tips of your feet, and took the aching awake with a press against Beau’s lips. 

An electric charge graced through the both of you, his hands raced towards your back to tighten you into the kiss. Muffled grunts and whimpers escaped when gasps of air were needed, he was hungry, for almost twenty-something years he’d been hungry– for one thing, one girl only. 

You sank deeply into the kiss, Beau bit your bottom lip, pulling it with his teeth, letting a yelp out. There was no denying he didn’t like a little pain with his pleasure, and maybe you seemed to as well. Your hands ran through his hair, tugging him as if there was any space left to fill. 

“Jesus, baby,” Beau mutters, gasping for air. 

You whine, hands holding his scruffy beard in each palms. “Why did you stop?”

Beau sighs, and desperation caves over both of you in the dim kitchen. The cicadas buzz out in the muggy night, he breathes then says, “I don’t know what I’m doin’ right now, honey,” the confession echoes with a crack in his voice. “You’re…I….” He takes a step back. “This isn’t right.” Reality began to set in for him. 

You frown, taking a step forward interliking your fingers in his belt loops. “Please, Beau.” What am I even asking for? Practically begging, for God knows what. 

Your eyes were full of desperation, pupils dilated from the guilt washed over his face. His cock twitched in his jeans, boots scuffing the wooden floors.

“You know exactly why this is a bad idea, honey, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You bit your bottom lip, lipstick fading from his touch. 

Beau breathed heavily, contemplating his devilish thoughts, racing back and forth in his head. Dopamine clouded his brain, adrenaline rushed through his veins–

Picked her up, scolded her, bent that pretty waist over the counter and–

All of it began to hit at once–no pun intended.

“If your father knew–”

“He won’t,” you reassure him and place your hand on his wrist, veins popped from beneath his skin. “If your father knew,” Beau repeats, louder, sterner. “Knew the damn things I wanna do to you, that pretty lil’ face of yours. ‘Be a dead man by the morning!" He paces back and forth, unable to look at you. 

Maybe this was a mistake, you thought. I kept telling myself this was nothing, some stupid school girl crush, this is nothing. You were a terrible liar after all. Maybe you had too much too drink, it was a full moon, perhaps, there was nothing that–

“This would’ve been easier if you were anyone else,” he takes another step closer, your eyes flicker up. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, sweetheart,” he lets out a low whistle, then adds, “I won’t be able to pretend I’m a good man no more.”

As if he was pretending, he’d just bent you over and spanked you as if you were a child. 

“Just this once, Beau,” you whisper, breath hitched from a hiccup. “Please, let me be yours.”

His eyes widened, brows furrowed. “Baby, you don’t know what you’re askin’ for–” “But I do,” another step forward, “I do know, I’m not a little girl anymore.” I’d be your girl, if you let me. “I know what I want, and…” Your gaze lingers off to the darkness, he holds onto your chin again, keeping your head straight and focused on him. 

“Say it.” 

You swallow. 

“I want you, Beau,” a whisper, voice breaking as the words spill out. “Please, I need you. No matter the age difference, no matter how wrong it is, just this once, Beau.”

There was no further conversation, in a swift movement you were pulled into his arms, faces smashed against another as he tumbled his way up the rackety stairs. This was it.

He’d thought about it countless times, of course he thought about it, about you. You were more beautiful than ever, sprawled out across your bed, stuffed animals pushed onto the floor laptop hidden under the bed. Beau looked down at you, arms scrambled in your tangled hair and eyes full of desperation and lust, he couldn’t get over the way you looked at him. A sudden, dark force casted over his face before he could lay his hands on you.

“From now on, you’re my girl, you understand?” You nodded quickly, earning a smirk. “Atta’ girl.”   

Beau took off his leather jacket and unbuttoned his flannel before making his way back towards your bed. He started with your jean shorts, snapping the button off across the room, pulling them off against your hips and below your boots, kicking them off after. 

Beau’s eyes met your panties, the same lacy ones you wore when you caught him in this exact room; what was only days ago felt so much longer. They were pink, almost an ivory pink from being faded and worn for so many years. 

His hands pinned down to lock you in, he started with the neck. Kisses running up and down sending shivers down your spine, thighs brushing up against each other. With each kiss he left a trail of saliva, your mouth gaped letting out gasps and weak moans. He could have eaten you alive for all it mattered, but the feeling alone was worth it.

Beau’s lips, Christ his lips; they were softer than you could ever imagine. Soft like snowfall, like the sun touching bare skin for the first time–he melted you. His lips, so sweet, the sweetest nectar one could ever lay their hands on. 

“I…” you gasp out. “... more, Daddy…” 

He looks up, licking his lips with a hungry smile. The comment only made the tent in his pants grow tighter. “Yeah, baby? What do you want from Daddy?” 

You look down at your bare legs, panties beginning to soak just from the touch of his lips before looking back at him. Beau chuckles and sits up to unbuckle his belt before tying it around your wrists, tightening before locking through the loops. 

A puzzled look comes across your face while he pulls his starchy jeans off, throwing them across the floor. 

“Don’t worry, darlin,’” he reassures. “You’re with me, now. I’ll take good care of you.” 

He pulls your top over your head, revealing a lacy black bra above, only for him to pull it off with it. You bat your eyes away with a wince, flustered and full of embarrassment. He was seeing you at your most vulnerable, and he couldn’t get enough of it. 

Legs spread open, Beau made his way between them, kissing the center of your panties earning a whimper from you. He inhaled deeply, before letting his tongue escape his lips to flick your folds between the silky fabric. You let out another whimper, louder this time, voice cracking from his hands digging into your thighs. 

“Jesus,” you whispered. “Please, God.”

He looked up between your thighs, “he ain’t here to save you, baby.” Beau met the hem of the fabric, bit the seam before tugging it down below your weakened knees. 

Beau kissed the center of your core, warm and soft to the touch. Your thighs began to shake when his tongue slivered his way inside you, lips sucking the folds swollen. He pumped in and out, licking the bud before entering back inside.

“Daddy, please,” you breathe out. “It feels…it feels so good…”  It’s no feeling you’ve felt before; the few times you were intimate with your ex weren’t memorable times, only being able to recall staring at the wall and dissociating, waiting for it to be over with. But with Beau? Jesus Christ. It was almost like he’d blessed you, and all of the women who came before took this man for granted. 

Beau took his time with you, letting his mouth explore the warmth and sticky opening before him. He flicked his tongue deeply inside, with every kneejerk, he went harder. A pit began to grow inside your belly, tied wrists began to fight the restraints.

“Beau, wait,” you gasped out. “I–” A moan took your words for you when he traced your clit with the tip of his tongue, rolling it around the edges. 

With another gasp for air, your legs quivered when a sudden release of pleasure rolled through your body, Beau kept himself pressed on your core as your remnants dripped from his lips. 

After a few moments he looked back up with you with a proud sheepish smile smeared across his face before wiping his mouth. 

“Please don’t look at me like that,” you whisper.

“Like what, sweetheart?” Like I’m a trophy, or like I’m some Goddess bestowed upon you to worship. Like you could love me. 

“I don’t know,” you say instead, and Beau ignores it for now. 

His arm snakes back around your thigh, sliding his fingers up back to your core twirling them around the entrance. Your cheeks heat up, the room feels ten times hotter than before. 

“Have you been touched here before, baby?” You shake your head, he knows you’re not a virgin, just not as experienced as your peers may be. That hungry smile smears upon his face again before inserting a finger deep inside, massaging the center of your g-spot. With only just one finger you threw your head back from pleasure, moans and gasps of air when he added another. 

“Such a good girl for me,” Beau hums, voice so intoxicating watching him pump his fingers in and out of your core. Like an angel before you, can’t help but stare in infatuation at the man before you. Aged skin, gray hairs peaking from his beard, lips pressed together to hold back any grunts. 

The tender flesh wrapped around his fingers tightly, aches began to grow inside of your abdomen, Beau could tell how impatient you’d become. 

“What’s the matter, baby?” 

You whine, jerking knees and squirming on the mattress, Beau meets your gaze at his boxers, and looks back up at you. 

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” 

You nod quickly, “Please, I–”

“I know, baby, I know.”  He coos, before slipping his boxers off…

No. Absolutely not. No. 

Your eyes began to wide at the sight before you, throbbing and dripping at the tip with precum, his hand cupped the base of his shaft before pumping his thick length slowly. He let out quiet pants, keeping his focus on you, dark blue eyes never leaving yours. Beau spat in his hand before lubricating himself off, positioning himself to be within your center. 

“Now it may hurt,” he starts, grunting when his tip meets your folds. “But it’ll only be for a little, I promise ‘ya I’ll make you feel good.”

With a racing heart, all you could do was nod. 

“You trust ‘yer daddy, yeah?”

Just from hearing him call himself that, after you called him that, it made your nipples harden. Another nod followed.

“Good girl, I’ll be gentle with you.” In a swift movement Beau thrusted himself inside you; pressure formed deep inside as you laced your legs around his bag, tightening the grip. “Jesus, baby,” he growled. “You’re so fucking tight, so wet for your daddy too, I see?” 

You buried into his neck, eyes shut when he thrusted himself deeper this time, still keeping his promise of being gentle.

It was slow, but the pain subsided into pleasure like he said. It was warm and wet the deeper his tip went, filling up the walls with his throbbing dick. 

Moans filled up the silence along with faint music in the background as his arms snaked around your back. Your arms still above your head shook with the pattern of Beau’s thrusts, gasping for air from the ecstasy reeking from each body. 

He glistened in the darkness, muscles flexing as he buried himself into you, beginning the pickup the pace of the thrusts. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he bucks his hips, you arch your back for him to pull himself deeper. He’s pounding into your g-spot, over and over again maintaining his eye contact with you, he wants to remember this moment. Remember how you resemble a beautiful maiden, taken away by a harsh man who can only love in vulgar, hellish ways. 

“Daddy, you feel so good…” Your words trail off when Beau smashes his lips on yours, tongue sliding all around your mouth exploring each crevice. 

“Tell me,” his southern drawl escapes. “What would that boy from the bar think of all this, huh?”

There’s no use to answer when the only thing coming from your plump lips is moans and cries from the thrilling sensation.  

“He’s… not…”

“Huh?” “Not… my boyfriend, Beau please I’m–”

“No, no no,” he starts to slow down, taking his length in and out of your folds, in and out. You were soaking wet, dripping onto the mattress, tightening around his tip. Beau leaned down and drew your bottom lip before pushing himself back into your g-spot, rubbing his thumb against your clit. 

“No man,” he grunts in between pants, “will ever touch what belongs to me, ever again. You hear me?” His voice begins to raise, another whimpering nod. 

“I want you to say it,” Beau growls louder. 

“I’m yours,” voice breaking into a sob, squinting eyes and a pit inside your belly only growing more, “I’m yours, Daddy, I promise.”

In a desperate moment with tightened muscles, his throbbing dick withdrawing back inside your swollen pussy, drenched with aroma and juices that filled his senses, with each thrust he matched your breathing, held your restricted hands, interlinking each finger. 

“Baby,” he pants, and knows it’s coming. “Fuck, I…” 

In and out. Harder and faster. Your legs gave out as you fell into another orgasm, shaking limbs as you sang out the pleasure. Beau came long and hard after you, filling himself with his seed and milky nectar, marking you as his own. 

He looks down at you, messy legs with cum spilling out of your core. With a soft voice and a touch to pull messy strands away from your face, Beau whispers, “you’re the biggest risk I’d ever taken, you know that, sweetheart?

“And yet, the greatest reward.” 

A/N:

hi! i tried keeping my promise of longer chapters, so hopefully this is worth the wait! i spent most of yesterday and the beginning of this morning finishing it up, also please bear with me i haven't written smut since... middle school, so yay! hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter :)

[dibelladonna]

hi!! if anyone’s waiting for the next chapter of my fic dbf older fic, i promise the next part is coming🙏🏽!! i’m trying to keep my promise of the longer chapters and im making progress as i get back into writing; i had to stretch before drafting out this chapter, as i haven’t written something like this in a WHILE (which could mean nothing).

anyway thank you for the love!!! hopefully i will have it out by either later tonight (eastern) or tomorrow ;)

be sure to look out for another fic i’m working on the side too!

—di’bella ❦

[dibelladonna]

✶⋆.˚ Older ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ pt. 7

(18+ MDNI)

started: aug. 1, 2026

total word count (so far): 10,624

Read me on Ao3! ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

⋆˚࿔ Find all the Parts Here 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

tags🏷️ :

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of y/n for reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can, taboo themes, Daddy Issues, probably fauxcest i'm sorry

Chapter 07: In the Act

WC: 1.1k

Sneaking out when nobody’s home is easy, the issue is trying to convince the chief of police you were home.

A few pillows shoved under the comforter would do, your record player was on a low volume playing some Guns N’ Roses album, laptop propped up on your desk with a video playing about ghost hunting. The scribbled piece of paper from the other day still sat there, no further luck with making a move, let alone talking about anything other than the weather or Dad.

It was better than hearing them talk about sports or cars, the smell of their marlboro reds filled up the backyard.

With just another touch of lipgloss and a final look in the mirror, you went out the window and made yourself down to the red camry parked outside. You settled on your cowgirl boots and ripped denim shorts with a plain tank top, it was just line dancing at Gino’s. No curfew could keep Gino’s closed, especially when Beau went to the place to clear his thoughts after a long day of work.

Shayla had her arm wrapped around Rodney, or whatever his name was. It didn’t matter, Shayla was known for going from guy to guy. While you two were complete opposites, you made out to be best friends. Well, okay friends. There weren't many other people around here, and she was one of the only people who really stuck by you after high school.

It’s not like you didn’t have friends, some were just at school. That’s what you told yourself, at least.

“Two vodka crans,” Shayla waves at the bartender. “And two gin and clubs.” You both search for your IDs in your bags before walking back over to the table, carrying each drink with steady hands.

Shayla took a seat next to her date, while the only spot left was a boy around your age in a cowboy hat. For a moment you thought—

No.

It wasn’t going to be him.

His gaze met yours paired with a smile, dimples, and cheekbones sharper than a knife. Something about him just didn't bring any butterflies.

You look down and notice him fiddling with a pack of cigarettes, without any judgment your curiosity caves in. “Can I bum one?”

He nods without question, and within five minutes the mystery man has a name: Jeremy. He was in his early twenties, and spent most of his time working on his family’s ranch, the cattle were his favorites.

“Seems like you got your hands full,” you take a sip from your cranberry juice, cigarette in between two fingers.

“After my old man passed I had to drop outta college,” Jeremy continues. “Keep the farm up to his standards.”

You nodded, pretending to follow anything else he was going to say. You didn’t mind the country life, to be honest it was always something you’d envision for the future, every now and then. Jeremy smelled like marlboro reds, cleaned up nice, and bought you and your friends a round of shots. Most importantly, people wouldn’t give remarks about being seen with him, but guys your age didn’t feed your desires.

Jeremy, a new found favorite to your friends, went on to play pool with Rodney, you decided to sip on something stronger. What was it that spirit Beau always drank?

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

It was a bitter taste in the beginning; hints of oak and wood rested on the taste buds only to fade into a faint vanilla aftertaste. It was enough to get you talking more to Jeremy, who was getting too close to you. At first he was charming, until his playful jokes borderline hostility.

After the pool game the line dancing began to start, the group of tipsies made their way over.Your bodies moved to the music and groove, Jeremy inching closer to you with each step. With each sip of the whiskey, after every wince from the sharp taste, you begged yourself to feel something – anyone but Beau.

Even if you knew he’d kill you for sneaking out when there’s a ridiculous curfew, you still thought of him. He consumed your waking thoughts, your vivid dreams – Beau’s the first person you think of when you think of safety.

Now he was a man of very few words when it came to his emotions, Beau would become stern and grow silent. Yet his eyes had a look of desperation when he looked at you, and when he held your hands he’d squeeze them extra tighter, just because. You were so, so lost.

“Can I give you my email?” Jeremy shouts over the music.

“What?”

“My email, I like you and I wanna hear from you.”

Shayla gives you a look, unable to hear this poor conversation, and flashes a grin and wink. Your head cocks back to Jeremy’s who is still awaiting an answer.

He claims to avoid social media, but not once has a man asked for your email at the bar before. But he’s cute and the whiskey’s been doing its job with keeping your thoughts away from Beau. It was past midnight now, he would’ve been getting out of the station around now.

You give a quick nod to Jeremy, and grab his phone from his hands. After scanning your address a few more times to be sure of no slips, you hand it back to him, fingertips connecting in the exchange. Jeremy’s cheeks flush, Shayla notices it before you do.

꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

He knew you better than anyone else knew you, more than your father knew you. Of course, Beau knew when he walked into your house and threw his keys on the kitchen counter–-only to be scooped back up–that you weren’t home. Any girl your age, a girl like you, wouldn’t wanna be cooped up inside on a night like this, Beau understood that completely. What he didn’t like was the idea of you getting into nasty trouble, especially when the trouble wasn’t you.

He caught your act in the bedroom, chuckled to himself, reminiscing of the times he would sneak out of his window, almost thirty years ago that is.

It was the first time he saw your bedroom without having to worry who’d come in, might as well take a peek around. Polaroids were plastered on the walls, magazine clippings and glossy posters of your favorite artists. Your vinyls were neatly organized next to your CDs, he walked over to the wooden desk with his hands in his pockets.

His eyes scanned the letter, fingers gripping the paper – every word his chest tightened, you felt the same way, maybe even more.

Impossible.

He walked out of the room with the letter tucked into his pocket, reaching for his keys next to the stove before driving back into town.

With each reminder of the major differences between you two, it only made the longing in Beau’s loins grow more. He was a sick man, an old man at that, but he didn’t care anymore.

Beau would have you right where he wanted you.

A/N:

hi oh my god ive been dealing with writers block all weekend, so this chapter is literal dog shit im so sorry. i went to a gay bar (i bat for both teams💔) and someone asked me for my email so parts of this chapter is based off of my weekend (i did not give her the right email)

also! if you guys are enjoying this i’ve also been writing a lil sum sum on the side as well for my Dean girls!

[dibelladonna]

✶⋆.˚ Older ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ pt. 6

(18+ MDNI)

started: aug. 1, 2026

total word count (so far): 8,551

Read me on Ao3! ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

⋆˚࿔ Find all the Parts Here 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

Summary:

He was everywhere you went; Gino's pub on Friday nights when you went line dancing with your friends, your favorite spot at the lake, you can't escape him when he's always in your house taking the last beer. It doesn't make it better when his duty-as sheriff and your father's best friend-is to monitor your every move.After a series of robberies and break-ins, it's only fitting your father would assign Sheriff Arlen to be your unofficial body guard until further notice. A few years ago, it would've been different; because a few years ago YOU were different, but college changes people. Maybe you don't see it, but he does.He notices the stolen glances you share with one another, the way your heart races when he calls you "sweetheart," and even if he knows it's wrong, he can't help himself most nights.He's older than you, by at least twenty years, he's off limits, he practically grew up with your father, and there's no getting away from it.

tags🏷️ :

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of y/n for reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can, taboo themes, Daddy Issues, probably fauxcest i'm sorry

WC: 890

Chapter 06: Breakfast for Two

Beau was at it again the next morning. His hand grew sore from the night before, but he couldn’t help himself, almost catching you in the shower. He kept his distance from you after that, spending the muggy days cooped up in his office, bombarded with questions he couldn’t answer. 

Plenty of residents weren’t taking the curfew seriously, your friends especially, but Beau was always on you like a hawk. The doors in your house were creaky and old, he’d be able to hear you if you even tried sneaking out. 

Fortunately there was always the window, and to avoid any further embarrassment just by running into Beau, you were sneaking out of it tonight.

There were plenty of nights in high school where you’d sneak out with your friends and out to get high in the woods, bonfires in the fall. There were some instances where Dad and Beau would both come picking you up, he'd been parenting you ever since the afternoon on the lake. 

“Yer daddy’s unsure of when he’ll be makin’ it back, big hurricane’ supposed to be hittin.” Beau informed you during breakfast before he went back out to the station. “If you want, you can invite that friend of yours over tonight.” He fumbled with her name a few times, Sheila, Shelly, Shayla! 

You shrugged it off and told him a white lie when his back faced you, cooking over easy eggs for himself.

 “She’s gonna be with her boyfriend tonight,” you say into your coffee mug. 

Beau turned his head across his shoulder. 

“No double date?”

You blush, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “No, I told you I’m not seeing anyone, Beau.” 

What you wanted to say was, “I want to be seen with you. No matter how wrong it is, no matter what my dad thinks, there’s no other feeling than being trapped in his arms… 

Beau Arlen was a man you only met once in a lifetime, a man rarely loved a woman in the ways he fully could keep a spark going. 

But when he looked at you, his Adam’s apple bobbed when swallowing, heart filled up with knives. There was more than a spark, more than the thrusts between his fingers and infatuation with you. Beau couldn’t quite pick the words out in his head, but it was different from all the women he’d slept with in the past thirty years, and even if there was little physical contact he couldn’t keep you out of his grasp.

He also couldn’t let the age gap go. 

“Well, I’ll be getting back here a little late,” Beau continues, pouring his eggs onto a plate filled with bacon and grits. “Keep the house clean, alright?”

You nodded before making your way up to your bedroom, messages awaiting from Shayla on your phone upstairs. 

Shayla Dorian: Make sure you wear something HOT tonight!

Shayla Dorian: My mom’s complaining about the news right now, I’ll pick you up at 9?

Shayla Dorian: Hopefully Sheriff Hunky Tonk doesn’t put a tracking collar on you LOL!

You rested your phone on the floral comforter, a crucifix nailed to your wall has been staring you down for as long as you’ve lived in this house. The nailed figure is rusted around the edges and there’s faded pink swirls around the pale wood. 

Dad still asks if you’re coming to Sunday mass with him, he doesn’t miss a week. Sometimes he’ll try to convince you by treating to brunch at the diner, down the road from Saint Dymphna’s. But you haven’t stepped foot in a church in a long time, confirmation may have been the last time. Where vows were renewed, rejected any future sins, amen, peace be with you. 

You begged at the feet of God’s statue as the silence echoed after the cries. 

It didn’t help that Dad brought him up to you again; said the town’s youth group could use a new counselor and it would spark something in you. “Maybe,” you said. “I’ll think about it.”

You kicked your socks off with your feet, eyes still focused on the cross. You’ll never be clean of sin, we both know that. Rotten girls like you don’t deserve what pearly gates may await, no God will give you any purity back–

Christ was cruel, but Beau was crueler.

Beau cleaned up the dishes after eating breakfast and folded his laundry, it almost felt like playing house with you–the roles would be determined eventually. He couldn’t help himself as he grabbed a pair of panties from your dirty pile. Beau brought the silky fabric up to his nose, muttering curses under his breath. 

“Christ,” he grunted out. 

It didn’t help that he’d known you for your whole life, you were a spring fawn compared to him. He’d seen you in pigtails and middle school dresses, to a graduation gown with a bouquet he picked out. 

Beau wasn’t a religious man like your father was; he was raised a Catholic but never good enough to be considered for seminary, so he understood your struggles and even tried helping you in the past. Just didn’t know how bad the obsessive thoughts got as you got older. 

Older, that word that never left anyone’s mind. Tortured by a lust he couldn’t feel, never an instance of forgetting you. 

A/N:

𓄋 mood board 𓄋

hi, sorry for the short chapter i've had a long month. i'm just kidding. it's been a long year. my relationship might be over sooner or later and this chapter was written while listening to ethel cain off a blinker. hope this authors note brings some comedic relief, also shoutout my cradle catholics who now have obsessive compulsive disorder🙏🏽

another a/n:

kinda personal but leave a comment down below if you guys like this series so far, i need positivity because im gonna have to breakup with my boyfriend…congradadolences 🙏🏽

[dibelladonna]

✶⋆.˚ Older ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ pt. 5

(18+ MDNI)

started: aug. 1, 2026

total word count (so far): 8,551

Read me on Ao3! ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

⋆˚࿔ Find all the Parts Here 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

Summary:

He was everywhere you went; Gino's pub on Friday nights when you went line dancing with your friends, your favorite spot at the lake, you can't escape him when he's always in your house taking the last beer. It doesn't make it better when his duty-as sheriff and your father's best friend-is to monitor your every move.After a series of robberies and break-ins, it's only fitting your father would assign Sheriff Arlen to be your unofficial body guard until further notice. A few years ago, it would've been different; because a few years ago YOU were different, but college changes people. Maybe you don't see it, but he does.He notices the stolen glances you share with one another, the way your heart races when he calls you "sweetheart," and even if he knows it's wrong, he can't help himself most nights.He's older than you, by at least twenty years, he's off limits, he practically grew up with your father, and there's no getting away from it.

tags🏷️ :

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of y/n for reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can, taboo themes, Daddy Issues, probably fauxcest i'm sorry

WC: 1.8k

Chapter 05: Lake Days

No guy had ever made a makeshift picnic for you, let alone after taking care of a nasty hangover. But Beau Arlen was no regular man, as you’d learned over the past few days. 

You’d just missed your dad when his best friend drove you both to the house, he left a note on the counter top for both of you to read:

Expected to be back by the weekend, bring her along to the office, will ya? Maybe give her an apprenticeship for the summer and out of her room. Left money for takeout in case y’all get hungry.  

-Dad

Beau didn’t pocket the money, instead gave it to you and said it was “our little secret, you’ll need the money more, kid.” He made himself comfortable in the guest room he was already familiar with after staying at the house many nights before, just across the hall from your room. The last he’d been up there was when he caught you almost twirling in your panties, almost caught a kiss from you, too. 

He hung his summer flannels in the closet, never too cautious about this town’s bipolar weather. Some days you’d wake up to fifty degree mornings and rain showers, by noon it would be in the nineties and humid – the sun rarely came out except on days like this. It was a perfect day to bathe under the burning sun and take a sneaky dip in the lake. The only difference was you weren’t alone at the lake, you were alone with a man who could be your father, he sure did act like it. 

“Gon’ burn if you keep rubbin’ that oil on,” Beau’s silhouette hovers over you laying on the towel. Previous bikinis were becoming loose on you, the only option was a tiny triangle bikini: the only problem? The cups went missing in the washing machine, and his voice alone made the buds of your breasts tingle.

He reached his hand out in front of you again and pulled you up to meet his figure. He towered over you, messing up your wavy hair before rushing towards the water, splashing into the lake. You went after him, feet kicking in the dirty sand then swooshing through the water, almost tripping on a rock before Beau caught you. 

“Easy there, kiddo,” a soft heat settled across your face with his touch. Beau’s face brightened after seeing your warmed cheeks. Droplets fell from the tips of his sandy brown hair onto your face, as he held you there staring at you like no man has before. 

“You alright?” He asks and you nod quickly. He gets ahold of himself, letting you float in the abalone shell water watching him submerge himself. 

Being alone with him for the next few days was one thing, but the tension between the two of you kept growing and the damn bikini wasn’t helping. It might as well be lingerie, your breasts were escaping from your breasts as the water stretched the fabric. Your feet kicked in the water as you extended your arms ahead, one inhale and your head was underneath the water. It was clear and a mix of a green and blue, small fish swam past you as your arms pulled you deeper into the lake. 

Beau swung from the tireswing into the lake, waves only brought you closer to each other. You’d lay on the dock and bask in the sunlight and know his eyes were watching you from across the lake. He’d sit there with his toes touching the water and his arms resting on his knees and just watch you, watching him. Your eyes flickered beneath your sunglasses, hands raised above your head to stretch your body. He’d curse under his breath, never wanting you to hear his sins and secret prayers. 

He kept his guard up around you, most times, but Beau knew he was going to break. He could’ve kissed you all day on this lake, taken away any innocence you had left as he’d sweep any loose strands out of the way. Maybe he could’ve been more for you, if you’d let him. If God would let him, maybe that was why he hadn’t kissed you yet. 

You were raised Catholic, brought up in holy communion and got confirmed at such a young age without knowing what any of it meant. Until one night you woke up one night, terrified and wrecked in tears, asking how many more “Our Father's” would I have to do in order for you to let me in? Forgive me, for I don’t know my wrongings, but my doubts–!

You raised your sunglasses and lifted yourself up, Beau’s eyes never left you. He took a swig of his beer before placing it back down. Between his legs was a tent, a bulge staring right at you in his trunks. No one else was around, he would’ve whipped it out in front of you, but once again he held back. Beau made his way back into the water, breastroking his way towards the dock you sat from, now dangling your toes to touch the tips of the water. His lips brushed past your feet while he pulled his upper body up onto the dock. His tanned biceps flexed, and that feeling between your legs came back. 

Like fucking grapefruits in his arms.

Jesus fucking Christ. 

His aged stomach still had plenty of muscle in him, just a small belly with a trail of dark hair leading down his–

“Any summer romances, kid?” 

Your eyes shoot up to Beau, who’s been watching you watch him. 

“Oh, um,” you’re flustered. Of course you’re flustered, he’s a Greek god and compared to you–you’re… you’re… you.

“Well there was a guy at the party yesterday, but he wasn’t really…”

Beau shuffles closer to you. “Go on, don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart.”

“He wasn’t really special, I guess.”

“Not ‘yer type?” A brow raised.

You shrug and kick your feet in the water. “I guess not.” 

“So what is it, then?”

“What is what?”

“”Your type, darlin.”

A faint blush spread across your cheeks, it was impossible to hide but subtle enough to ignore. 

“Oh.” You pause, taking a breath. “I never really thought about it, I guess a bit of everything.”

Beau let out a hoarse laugh, hands running through his long, wet hair. “That ain’t a real answer, kid.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, preferring anything but. “Beau?” His head cocked to your direction. 

You swallowed, throat tightening as the words caught up in your throat. 

“Do you think someone could ever love me?” Memories your ex flashed through your mind, of your parents, of God himself. 

His smoldering grin turned into a subtle line, then a frown. “What do you mean, kid?” You scoff, leaning your hands back, chest and stomach showing off. “See, that. That’s what I mean, is everyone gonna stop seeing me like a child? I’m allowed to vote, I can drink and smoke pineapple express legally. You keep calling me kid, I’m not a kid.” 

Beau sighs, letting his head droop for a moment before pulling himself back up. “I know you ain’t a kid, sweetheart.”

His green eyes lock with yours, his veiny hands their way towards you on the wooden planks. 

“Then why do you keep calling me a kid?” Your heartrate began to spike, your breasts peaking out of your bikini top. Beau’s breath hitched, a hiccup escaped from his lips and the scent of beer filled your nose. A silver chain hung from his chest, your gaze went back and forth to the necklace and his eyes.

“Because the things I wanna call you would make me a sinnin’ man, sweetheart.” 

His hands reached behind your top to reach for the stings of the fabric when a voice shouted your name. 

Behind you was Shayla with her boy toy, waving to you and Beau, who in a swift movement had his arms crossed. 

After swimming your way back to the beach, she updated you both on the news. “I’m surprised Sheriff Beau didn’t tell you about the curfew they set,” she goes on. “The criminals are still on the run, apparently a lot more harmful than we thought.”

You shot a look at Beau, before noticing the sun was beginning to set between the trees and clouds. Thunder began to growl in the sky, Shayla was off with her date back to her house, warning us about the storm coming tonight. 

You turned back to him, now your arms were crossed. “A curfew now? Really?” “It’s the whole town, sweetheart, for everyone’s safety.” He ruffles your hair and starts picking up the  remnants of the makeshift picnic. “Let’s go home, doll.” The tone in his voice changed, but you paid no mind to it. 

꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

You sat on the phone talking to Shayla, twirling your hair into spirals. You were showered, sitting in your socks and panties with a night shirt covering your breasts. 

“I’m pretty sure I saw something,” Shayla gushed, followed by a giggle.

“He was tightening my top, it was going to fall.” It was a white lie, but you weren’t going to be the one to admit to her.

“Uh-huh, whatever you wanna tell yourself, just wait until you catch him huffing your panties.” 

The thought alone makes your thighs squeeze together, feet shuffling socks. 

“I don’t know, it’d be like dating my dad.” 

“Who said anything about dating? That man is mount everest; a rough journey to be enjoyed. Besides, at best he’s like your uncle.” 

You sigh, sinking your head into the silk pillow. “That’s not helping.”

“What do you think of being a Salem witch for Halloween this year? Yanno, strap me to a log and I’ll scream while strapped to it.”

“What conjured this thought, Shay?”

“Eh, alcohol. Maybe depression too, hard to say at this rate. I gotta go, good luck with your DILF!” Before you could curse your friend out, the phone call was wiped from your screen. It was getting late anyway, you’d might as well go to sleep.

Across the hall, behind a closed door, stood Beau; his hand gripped around his thick erection, pumping up and down his length trying to keep his moans and groans in his mouth. His boxers left his cock sprung out across the desk, looking at a polaroid photo of you. You were in your freshmen year of college, in some skimpy little dress– a photo he ungratefully took while you were showering. 

One of these nights he was going to barge into his room and have his way with you, no matter how wrong it was, he’d fuck you until every crucifix fell in the house. He’d pound into your soaking core, slide his tongue in between your folds until you came all over his face–

It was just a matter of hours. 

The lights in the room flickered as he came onto the polaroid. 

[dibelladonna]

✶⋆.˚ Older ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ Full Series (ongoing)

(18+ MDNI)

started: aug. 1, 2026

total word count (so far): 10,624

𐙚⋆.*find all of the chapters to my debut fanfic, dbf!beau arlen x controversially younger fem!reader beneath *𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 ✶.𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

"Persephone, I wasn't lying when I said I would burn the world for you." "That's what I'm afraid of." – Hades and Persephone, Unknown

He was everywhere you went; Gino's pub on Friday nights when you went line dancing with your friends, your favorite spot at the lake, you can't escape him when he's always in your house taking the last beer. It doesn't make it better when his duty-as sheriff and your father's best friend-is to monitor your every move.

After a series of robberies and break-ins, it's only fitting your father would assign Sheriff Arlen to be your unofficial body guard until further notice. A few years ago, it would've been different; because a few years ago you were different, but college changes people. Maybe you don't see it, but he does.

He notices the stolen glances you share with one another, the way your heart races when he calls you "sweetheart," and even if he knows it's wrong, he can't help himself most nights.

He's older than you, by at least twenty years, he's off limits, he practically grew up with your father, and there's no getting away from it.

tags🏷️ :

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of y/n for reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can, taboo themes, Daddy Issues, probably fauxcest i'm sorry

Chapter 01: His Favorite Girl

Chapter 02: Laundry Day

Chapter 03: Flimsy Limbs

Chapter 04: The Morning After

Chapter 05: Lake Days

Chapter 06: Breakfast for Two

Chapter 07: In the Act

Chapter 08: Caving In

Read me on Ao3!

mood board! ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

[dibelladonna]

✶⋆.˚ Older ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ (Pt. 4)

Read me on Ao3! ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

⋆˚࿔ Find all the Parts Here 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

Summary:

He was everywhere you went; Gino's pub on Friday nights when you went line dancing with your friends, your favorite spot at the lake, you can't escape him when he's always in your house taking the last beer. It doesn't make it better when his duty-as sheriff and your father's best friend-is to monitor your every move.After a series of robberies and break-ins, it's only fitting your father would assign Sheriff Arlen to be your unofficial body guard until further notice. A few years ago, it would've been different; because a few years ago YOU were different, but college changes people. Maybe you don't see it, but he does.He notices the stolen glances you share with one another, the way your heart races when he calls you "sweetheart," and even if he knows it's wrong, he can't help himself most nights.He's older than you, by at least twenty years, he's off limits, he practically grew up with your father, and there's no getting away from it.

tags🏷️ :

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of y/n for reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can, taboo themes, Daddy Issues, probably fauxcest i'm sorry

WC: 1.3k

The sheets reeked of sandalwood and smoke when you woke up entangled in foreign sheets. Memories from the night before begin to fill your mind: Catching a late cab with Shayla, slamming shots, making your way back to Beau’s home.

Your arm reached to the other side of the bed, sheets folded neatly meeting your side. Nothing happened, you said to yourself, unsure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Where was he, anyway? The alarm clock read five in the morning, the moonsetting illuminated his bed. You were still in your dress and socks, your boots were nowhere to be found on the other hand. Perhaps he’s a neat freak and the idea of shoes in his bedroom freaks Beau out, most men his age were slobs but his bedroom was spotless. 

It wasn’t very decorated, wooden drawers and rustic talismans hung on the walls along with a calendar. On the nightstand sat a small plate of medicine and a glass of water. 

“Eat me.” “Drink me.” 

You scanned the torn piece of paper before swallowing the small pills. The door swung open and Beau appeared, steamy with damp hair and a towel draped around his waist. You shuffled between the sheets as he made his way to the bed, smiling to himself.

“Glad to see ‘yer awake,” his voice drawls. “How you feelin’, sweetheart?” His smoldering gaze met yours as he sat across from you on the bed.

You shrugged, then said, “like I’ve had better tequila.”

Beau lets out a low whistle, his toned belly sucks in and out. “You must be hungry, aren’t ya?” You nodded. “Alright, let me get dressed and  I’ll cook some eggs for us.” 

You made your way out of the bedroom, feeling his eyes watch you escape his lair. Beau almost grabbed your hand as you stood up, to keep you there and drop his towel. But he didn’t, as much as he wanted to. 

After breakfast, eggs and toast, Beau listened to the news when washing the dishes. You insisted on helping, you felt guilty when noticing the makeshift bed on the sofa but Beau sat you back down in the kitchen.

“I offered, darlin,’” he’d say. His voice always softened when speaking to you, so gentle and firm–the world never saw this side of Beau Arlen. 

He’d informed your dad you were safe with him; his first secret with his best friend was how he wound up picking you up. Beau told him some alibi about one of your friends hosting a shindig and you weren’t feeling well. Dad didn’t seem to mind either way, he trusted Beau with his only daughter, even if it was the stupidest thing to ever do. 

Almost forty years of friendship could be ruined with just the touch of your skin, a risk Beau would risk sooner or later. 

He insisted you’d spend the day at his house, “I won’t bother ya much, darlin. I got some work calls I gotta make, run down to the station as well.”

You fell asleep after breakfast, Beau tucked you in and left another glass of water waiting for you and a trash can alongside the bed. Just before you fell back into your dreams, a gentle pair of lips pressed against your forehead, whispering sweet nothings before a “click” from the door. You don’t remember much before the unconscious takes back over. 

By the time it was noon the skies were clear as you basked in the sun; you were just in a big shirt but it was his shirt. Draped over you like a smock, droplets fell from a popsicle you found in his freezer. Cherry flavored, painting your lips like sticky lip gloss. Beau’s truck pulled into the driveway while you sat on his porch. He made his way out of the car, piles of paperwork in one hand and keys in the other. Your eyes lit up and you crossed your legs, he didn’t mind that you wore his shirt. Not at all.

“Feelin’ any better, doll?” He takes a seat next to you on the porch swing. 

“Much,” you gleam and take another lick of the popsicle. He licks his lips, watching the movement, knowing exactly what you’re doing. “You had these hidden away, why don’t you grab one?” Your lips pop and make an “o” shape while waving the popsicle around his face. 

Beau’s brows furrow, ignoring your playful banter, fiddling with the papers in his hands. “What’s that?” You asked, curiously.

Beau sighed, rubbing his big hand across his face. “Suspsect reports, evidence reports needin’ approval, whole buncha’ work nonsense I don’t even understand most days.” He chuckles, glancing over to you. “You’re lucky, know that sweetheart?”

You shake your head, he leans back on the porch swing still keeping his gaze on you. “You ain’t gotta deal with the real world just yet,” he continued watching you bob the popsicle in and out of your mouth, “I envy that about you, your youth.”

You lightly punch his shoulder and give a glossy grin, pearlescent teeth stained with cherry juice. “I’m not a kid, Beau.” He rolls his eyes at the irony, peering down at your uneven white socks, lace fringe at your ankles. “I don’t want you to see me as one.”

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah?” His free hand inches its way down to your bare thigh. “How do you want me to see you, sweetheart?”

Your heart begins to race, an unusual feeling growing between your thighs. His eyes never left yours as he waited for you to make a move. Your free hand began to trace his aged face with the tips of your fingertips; the arch of his thick brows, the edge of his beard, the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t help but stare at the girl before him, an angel almost, who had come down from heaven to taunt him. His green eyes glowed when they met yours, you were so innocent and naive and all he wanted was to corrupt you, make you his own. But there might have been evil within him, he was nonetheless tamed by the ethereal beauty of an angel.

His phone started going off before you could answer; Beau’s hands escaped your body before he could go any further and pulled his phone out of his pocket, grunting to himself. 

“Sheriff Arlen,” he clears his throat and answers the phone. “Hey, buddy.” It’s probably Dad. No woman would wanna be greeted with “buddy” on the phone, especially when his hands were just on you. Beau stands up from the swing and starts to pace around his porch. 

“The impala’s good for sellin’? Always good to hear. Yeah she’s with me right now.” Beau turns on his heels to face you, now sprawled out on the porch swing still working on the popsicle. His eyes widened and rested his hand on his hip, “Of course, ‘fer how long, brother?” 

You zone out for the next minute or so, until Beau hangs up and curses under his breath. “Gotta take you back home, sweetheart.” You sit back up with a frown. 

“Is everything okay with my dad?”

Beau nodded with no sign of worry on his face when asked about that. “He’s takin’ the impala out west at sundown and says he’ll be away for the next few days. Damn buyer changed locations on your old man.”

“Oh.” Your lips made an “o” shape before taking another taste of your popsicle. 

“He doesn't want you to be on your own, so he told me to take you under my wing ‘till he’s back.”

“Oh.”

A smirk grew on Beau's lips. “C’mon, by the time we get back to ‘yer house, maybe I’ll take you for a dip at the lake.” His hand reached out to you, and without hesitation you took it. 

[dibelladonna]

✶⋆.˚ Older ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ (Pt. 3)

Read pt 1 Read pt 2

Read me on Ao3!

Summary:

He was everywhere you went; Gino's pub on Friday nights when you went line dancing with your friends, your favorite spot at the lake, you can't escape him when he's always in your house taking the last beer. It doesn't make it better when his duty-as sheriff and your father's best friend-is to monitor your every move.After a series of robberies and break-ins, it's only fitting your father would assign Sheriff Arlen to be your unofficial body guard until further notice. A few years ago, it would've been different; because a few years ago YOU were different, but college changes people. Maybe you don't see it, but he does.He notices the stolen glances you share with one another, the way your heart races when he calls you "sweetheart," and even if he knows it's wrong, he can't help himself most nights.He's older than you, by at least twenty years, he's off limits, he practically grew up with your father, and there's no getting away from it.

tags🏷️ :

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of y/n for reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can

Chapter 03: Flimsy Limbs

You didn’t go downstairs again that night, you decided it was best to avoid Beau after what had happened last night. I licked his face, who does that? Your fingers run through your hair and sigh at your desk. 

You couldn’t help but listen for Beau’s laughter, filling your living room with clanking beers with Dad. He had come home an hour or so after Beau barged in, invited him to stay for dinner, “we always order more than we can eat” Dad says. Beau smiled at your father’s offer, most likely wondering why you’re hiding out in your room.

Part of it is to look for summer jobs, maybe pick up an internship – you needed something to do. There was only a year left until graduation, then onto grad school for another few years. Dad wasn’t pleased to hear your ideas of becoming a forensic psychologist, working in a correctional unit with criminals wasn’t usually a father’s first choice for a career. Realistically, college wasn’t on the table at the beginning; while your grades throughout high school were phenomenal and even now, dean’s list each semester–deep down inside he wanted nothing more for you to stay in town. 

“Maybe you’ll meet a nice boy, give him a family and settle down,” your father’s words danced around what he really wanted to say: that you’re better off as a housewife. 

You scoff at the thought. A housewife, yeah right. You’d just turned the legal drinking age a few months back, there was simply no rush to settle down and hitch within six months. Some of the girls from the high school were already having “baby sprinkles” with their blue collared men, meanwhile you were staring at a blank page ripped from your journal. Most of the sentences you drafted were scribbled out. 

Dear Beau,

I’m sorry for-A thick line crossed in the middle. 

I don’t want you to think-The pen pushed down harder this time. 

What exactly were you trying to say? Why would you apologize for how he makes you feel? For wanting to kiss him, feel his scruffy beard brush across your legs and up your thighs? You wanna tell Beau how wrong it is, to feel insanity from the desire you never felt before? The way his southern accent gets softer when he looks down at you, it makes you infuriated. He infuriated you by heart and he knew it, he had to! Calling you “kid,” ruffling your hair, licking his lips wishing they were yours. 

You didn’t look at him differently until last year when you were a teenager. He didn’t start to hug you differently until then, as well. Growing up, he’d always give you a bear hug, rocking from side to side. When you’d cry about boys to him in high school, his fingers would comb through your hair during the embrace, whispering how you deserve better. Was he better? Is that what he’d meant? Surely not, you were younger back then, not that you aren’t now, but with a few more years of experience. 

You didn’t have time to write a letter to Beau, not when you needed a summer job. You left your desk and hopped on your bed to grab your laptop, scrolling the town’s web in hopes of anyone hiring.

Gino’s bar down the road was looking for a server, but you knew the dirty patrons too well. Grease monkeys who still live with their mother, frat brothers with fake IDs, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from your dad. There was always the summer camp at the elementary school, but dealing with kids all summer was your personal nightmare. 

Maybe the library needed an assistant, you made a mental note to call them tomorrow morning. For now, you close the laptop and slide it under your bed before shutting the lights off. 

You scroll through the town’s social page on your phone; looking through the events to come this summer, see what friends are home for break, you find Beau’s account and click on it. There’s not much about his personal life, not that you didn’t know him well, but more so just updates to the police station. He kept his profile as sheriff as neighborly as possible; while he and your dad were close knit, Beau was overall loved by the town. Plenty of girls your age would make eyes as he’d walk down the street, asking what it was like for him to sleep across the hall from you, having him over on Sundays to grill during the summer, shirtless, nonetheless. You’d brush them off as the Arlen fan club, like you weren’t thinking about his head between your thighs instead of your fingers.

This was one of the first nights you started to touch yourself, the tips of your fingertips racing up and down your legs while your thoughts consumed his lagoon green eyes. 

The thought of them peaking up between your legs before his lips pressed back down on your core… 

He had you wrapped around his finger and had no idea of it. 

꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

It was four in the morning when Beau decided to get out of bed, he hadn’t slept since hitting the pillow hours before. The black TV screen across from him mickied his silhouette, tossed sheets with the smoke of his cigarette butt dancing up into the air. 

He’d decided a cold shower, below freezing if possible, would be his last resort. His mirrored cabinet caught his figure, aged muscles that had been touched by many hands – all but the ones he wanted.

The cold water fell onto his steamy body, head dropped with one hand hovering over his shaft. He’d been hard since the drive home, almost pulled over to the side of the road to release himself and call out your name, but a good man wouldn’t do that. A good man’s priority would be to monitor the town, catch the nutjobs on the run. A good man wouldn’t be up all night with his hand against his cheek, in hopes of any trace of the saliva from your tongue. A good man wouldn't think of you while his hand wrapped around his bulge.

Beau Arlen was a good man for the first forty or so years of his life, but for just a few minutes, he would let himself break free.

  His hand began to pump, pacing himself before warming the water up. His cock thickened of the thought of you, propped up on his truck in that small little bikini of yours. Beau had refused to think in such a subjective manner before, but seeing you propped up on the bed, walking around in your panties…

He’d imagined you bent over the counter top in nothing but your underwear, hands tracing up to your core, whispering the terrible things he’d do to you. 

“Jesus, baby,” Beau muttered, a subtle moan escaping his mouth. The panties, they were all he could think about during the drive. Were you always in cheeky, laced panties when no one was home? He bit his tongue, hips jerked as he continued to thrust his cock in his fingers. The water burned his back, wet hair matting down across his head when he felt a heavy weight in his balls. Already? He hadn’t finished this quickly in so long, he’d hoped it wouldn’t be that way for you. 

Beau would ridicule himself for his taboo fantasies of you later, his grip tightened around his shaft as his legs began to shake. 

“Baby, please,” he begged to himself, each thrust faster. What position would he have you in first? Beau wouldn’t treat you like one of the women he’d bring home from the bar, no, he’d take his precious time with you. He’d start with pulling your socks off with your legs propped against his shoulders, kissing up your legs and slowly make his way up to your thighs. Palm your butt with his calloused hands and squeeze until you’d yelp. He’d worship you, if you let him. 

Beau knew he was a sick man, he used to think of you as his own daughter, but you grew older. The curves around your ribs perfected your figure, your breasts that had never felt a man’s lips before. God forbid, your father had ever found out–

“Come ‘fer me,” he cries breathfully, “please, darlin.’” He could almost hear your own whimpers as his heart thudded, he’d make you orgasm for hours, leave your legs shaking from him. Beau’s hands gripping your hair as you’d take his thick–

Beau came hard and long, heart pounding as he cursed under his breath. His vision tunneled watching his milky cum circle drain, still hard and aching for you even after release. It fixed nothing, giving him no choice but to make you his own – soon or later. His knees buckled and lowered himself into the tub. Goddammit, kid. 

He was convinced you were put here to torment him, you're a treasured little lamb, and he has no plans for being gentle.

꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

“Just an hour, then if the vibe’s off we can go home.” Shayla’s words echoed in your head, it’d been three hours since you showed up to the dingy apartment space. Some guy she’d been seeing on the side told you both about the party and begged your friend to come. And of course, she needed an alibi. 

“... But yeah, I think Summer was the problem in the movie,” the voice continued. 

Your grasp on the solo cup tightened as the loser across from you gushed about his cinephile takes. His name was along the lines of Rodney or Richie, you didn’t seem to care either way. The boy waited for you to respond, not expecting you to excuse yourself downstairs. 

Parties at college were just like this; guys your age talkin’ everyone’s ear off as they nurse their warm beers. You tended to avoid them, hide in the corner and observe from afar. 

It was better that way, you weren’t one for love in the first place. Your first boyfriend was supposed to be “the one,” everyone said so, you told yourself he was. You told yourself you’d awaken one day and let yourself think he was the one. You were it for him, but it wasn’t right, it wasn’t love.

A love, a blend of icy poison and ambrosial nectar, existed between one another; it was a divine haven for him, yet an infernal torment for you.

You glance down at your phone when making your way down the steps, wishing you hadn’t texted the last resort. It’s almost one in the morning and Shayla’s probably going to third base in a closet, Dad’s fast asleep and would be furious knowing you’re out at a party. 

Another house was broken into the other day! 

A young woman just about your age was kidnapped going out at night!

Shouldn’t be dressin’ so provocative. 

He was overprotective of his only daughter, with every right to be, of course. He lost his wife, your mother, only so many years ago and refuses to lose another one of his girls. Yet his words are still carved into your head, you didn’t dress provocatively.

Your black boots squeaked as you made your way to the front door, pushing past the drunk kids you were in kindergarten with. Usually you didn’t try hard for house party attire, tonight was just a simple babydoll dress and high socks and your mother’s old boots. She used to walk around the town with you as a young girl, sooner or later you’ll be older than her.

Your phone buzzed. I’m outside, the text read, you swallowed heavily. His headlights beamed down the street in front when you made your way out to his truck. He’d always come to the rescue, he said. This was just him sticking to his word, that’s what you told yourself, but the three shots wanted to tell him things that would get you shoved in a confessional booth. 

You stumbled your way to his truck, fiddling with the door handle before a “click” popped the door open. There across from the passenger seat was Beau, in a wrinkled T-shirt wrapped with a leather jacket, and his starchy jeans, eyes meeting yours after scanning your attire. 

No words were exchanged when you hopped in his truck, you didn’t pick any of the CDs to play, and you didn’t mention anything when he passed the turn to your house. 

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Beau starts, breaking the silence after what felt like an eternity. 

He looks over at you, keeping one hand steady on the wheel and his other hand on his pant thigh. What would you tell him? My friend–who kinda sucks–deserted me at a party to feel like “Michael in the Bathroom?” That she tried setting you up with a guy who thinks women shouldn’t vote, and almost started drinking from the bottle to get through the conversation? Or that I wish it was just the tequila making me want to kiss your stupid face? 

“My social battery died,” is all you could mutter out. 

Beau chuckled. “I’m gonna need more than that, sweetheart.” 

“My friend went home with someone, my arm is floppy. Like a puppet.” 

He accelerates on the gas before signaling a left turn, you continue to move your arms like snakes, they’re tingling. Whatever cheap tequila you took at the party was starting to catch up to you. 

“Your dad’s gon’ kill me,” Beau grunts. He turns down a gravel path, making his way to his house. His house? “You ain’t goin’ home like this, sweetheart.” 

You bobbed your head up and down, attempting to gain clarity of this situation. One minute Beau was pulling his truck in reverse, palming the steering wheel–the next he was carrying you up the stairs like newlyweds. 

Your gaze met his, and his hands and beautiful eyes never left your figure. For a moment you thought to yourself, if you were brave enough, you’d tell him. So that he would know, and it would be out in the open. There wouldn’t be any chance of taking it back, and that made you feel like you weren’t brave enough to be honest. But with how his eyes peered down at yours, full of such care and worry, you thought in the slightest chance that maybe he knew. 

Beau sat you on his bed, unzipping your boots and throwing them across the floor. He left the room shortly after tucking you under his sheets, his natural, sandalwood musk flooded your senses. 

He returned to the bedroom with a glass of water and a handful of motrin, yet when he walked over to his nightstand quiet snores escaped from you. Beau snickered to himself, carefully studying your hair falling across your face. Your skin illuminated in the moonlight, lips parted as you slept peacefully. Beau couldn’t help but graze his hand across your cheek to remove any loose strands. 

“Has anyone taken care of you?” He whispered. 

Of course, there was no response, but it didn’t stop him from confessing.

“Let me be the first, baby.”

[dibelladonna]

｡𖦹°‧ Older ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ pt. 2

Read on Ao3

Read pt. 1

Summary:

He was everywhere you went; Gino's pub on Friday nights when you went line dancing with your friends, your favorite spot at the lake, you can't escape him when he's always in your house taking the last beer. It doesn't make it better when his duty-as sheriff and your father's best friend-is to monitor your every move.
After a series of robberies and break-ins, it's only fitting your father would assign Sheriff Arlen to be your unofficial body guard until further notice. A few years ago, it would've been different; because a few years ago YOU were different, but college changes people. Maybe you don't see it, but he does.
He notices the stolen glances you share with one another, the way your heart races when he calls you "sweetheart," and even if he knows it's wrong, he can't help himself most nights.
He's older than you, by at least twenty years, he's off limits, he practically grew up with your father, and there's no getting away from it.

🏷️

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can

wc: 1.6k

Chapter 02: Laundry Day

Beau wasn’t joking when he told you he’d come to the rescue, you just weren’t expecting his eyes to follow you all over town.

At the breakfast table the morning after, Dad mentioned how he wanted Beau to look after you for the summer.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you, pumpkin,” he almost burned his lips on his hot coffee, then added, “it’s just with the recent invasions down the street–” Dad winces, a flash of your mother crosses his mind. “-It’s not safe for you to be always out on your own.”

You knew where he was coming from; after losing Mom nearly a decade ago, he’d become very protective of you, it didn’t help he knew the entire police academy, either. He refused to bring her up to you a few months after her death, kept his feelings to himself and let him whisper his guilt in each cold beer that met his lips.

You didn’t want to fight with him, not during the first week of summer break. You just nodded, and accepted that Beau would always be one step behind you.

“He’s a good man, ain’t he?” Dad asked.

You nodded. “How’s the Impala?” You’d do anything to avoid thinking of Beau, his calloused hands, his southern drawl, the lagoon green specks in his eyes…

“Damn brake pads need replacin,’ I gotta go to the hardware store soon. Should be ready for sellin’ by next week. You wanna come with me?”

You shrug, then shake your head no. “I’ve got some laundry I gotta do, pick me up a shake on the way

home?”

꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

Beau knew your father wasn’t home. He’d ran into him at the hardware store when Beau was picking up his breakfast across the street. He knew he’d be driving past your house within a few lights, and one wrong turn would lead him down your gravel driveway. But he doesn’t know what changed in him, in you.

He doesn’t know when this… infatuation, with you started, he was afraid to admit it himself. Beau knew it was wrong, felt ashamed for even lying to himself about it. He knew it began some time after your first year of college. He noticed your figure first; how quickly one could change within less than a year. Your slender face, sharp cheekbones, your lips… Beau couldn’t sleep the night you came home, his obsessive and borderline taboo thoughts kept him up for almost two days in a row.

His hand traced his face and bushed his lips, sweat droplets ran down his head. The humidity’s gettin’ to me, he said to himself. And that was it.

You were a simple girl, young, and he was a complicated old man lighting your stolen Marlboros.

Well, older.

When the smoke filled in his throat and down to his lungs, he imagined how your plump lips would wrap around the filter. Slowly inhaling the tobacco, soft breaths releasing. If he’d ever see you with another cigarette, he’d pull it out of your mouth and kiss the nicotine out from your lips, in hopes of you returning his desires.

“Christ,” Beau mutters under his breath at the thought. There was at least twenty years between the two of you, not to mention how wrong it would be. How wrong it would be to slide my hand between her thighs…

“Dammit.” He ran through a red light before turning right, and began the gravel path. Beau didn’t know why he wanted to see you, what he would even say, but his boot pressed harder on the pedal. Her father wouldn’t be home for another few hours, he mentioned wanting to stop at the junkyard. Beau knew nothing would happen, he had enough restraint to keep himself from doing the wrong thing. He was the sheriff after all!

The spurs on his boots reflected as he went through the sliding door, whistlin’ an old tune his old man used to play when he was a young man. Beau took his cowboy hat off and left it on the kitchen table, calling your name up the staircase.

No response.

Once again, he calls up to you. “You there, kid?”

When he doesn’t hear you, Beau makes his way up the creaky stairs of the house and glances in each room. Not in your dad’s room, not in the guest room either. Your door is closed, he can tell it's your door by all the stickers decorated on it. When you were younger it was full of princesses and butterflies, but as the years went on you changed it around. He observed the quotes on each door, all from different authors. A quote from A Farewell to Arms, Annabel Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird. He recognized them all from his days in school, sure he slept through most of English but Beau would probably learn more from you. He at least helped you with your history homework and math.

Before he could reach for the handle, the door swung open. Your eyes went wide as one hand was on the doorknob, and the other held a hamper.

Beau’s widened gaze met your eyes, before they lowered down to–

He let out a low whistle. “Darlin’ I’m so sorry, I should’ve–” He’s at a loss for words. It’s not like he didn’t call up to you. It didn’t help that his gaze didn’t leave your bottom half; cropped tee showing the peek of your belly and ivory laced panties.

You cover yourself with the hamper and slam the door on his face, too flushed to grasp words to say. What is wrong with me? Other than the thought of your head, the silence in your room grew before a knock at the other side came.

“It’s alright, kid.” Beau muffles through the door. “‘Yer alright in ‘ere?”

You didn’t respond. You grabbed a pair of shorts from your clean pile before opening the door again, in a more “decent” presentation. Beau’s eyes look back down on yours, giving you a smile. You hate that, the way he sucks his tongue between his teeth when he smiles.

“I’m sorry,” you say, flustered. “It’s laundry day and I was…” You trail off. You can’t help it when he tilts his head when you get like this.

“It’s alright, kid, nothin’ a man ain’t seen before.” Beau chuckles.

You shrug it off when he calls you kid, both of you know you’re not a kid. You’re a grown woman, who still sleeps with her stuffed animals at night.

The vinyl on your record player stops spinning, and before you can object, Beau’s already in your room looking at your vinyls and CDs.

“I didn’t know you still kept these,” he says, sorting through your collection. Some of them were passed down from your extended family, some were from Shayla and Elliot, but your favorites were all from him.

He’s bent down on one knee with his back facing you, looking for AC/DC albums. His flannel almost looks too tight wrapped around his torso, ashy brown hair soft to the touch. You pushed your knees together and sat down on your bed, taking your eyes to your hands. The clouds outside the window began to form dark waves in the sky.

“My favorite’s the Smashing Pumpkins album you gave me,” you finally break.

“Mellon Collie?” Beau asks and you nodded. “I remember hearin’ it for the first time, musta’ been sometime in ‘95.” He looks up to see what must be running through your head when he tells you that. That he’s been alive much longer than you, that he’s probably seen and done things you couldn’t imagine. Not necessarily dirty experiences, per se, but what he was like before becoming the caretaker of the town, of you.

His knees almost crack as he stands back up, gaze landing back on you. You could’ve sworn his beard was longer, more rugged. When did you start noticing him in a different light? When did Beau Arlen, Sheriff Beau Arlen, start to give you a spark between your thighs, in your head? I wish these shorts needed to be washed, they might as well be by the time he leaves.

“Any updates on the suspects?" You asked out of curiosity.

Beau’s arms crossed as he leaned on the collaged wall, hiding any old photos of boy bands with his back. “You know that’s confidential business, kid.”

You roll your eyes and lean on the bead, feet kicked up in the air. “You know I’m not a little girl anymore, right?”

He raises a brow.

“You keep calling me kid, I’m not a little girl, Beau. I’m a grown woman”

He chuckles and walks closer to the bed. “You’re barely grown, kid.” His hands grip on the edge of your bed, his aged veins pumping throughout the back of his hands.

You bite your lip and raise your head to meet him.

“Is that so bad?”

“I beg ‘yer pardon?”

“Am I too young?”

He covers his flushed face, breaking eye contact before he sees you move in his peripheral vision. When Beau’s gaze returns, you’re sitting on your legs, closer to the edge of the bed. Closer to Beau.

You can smell his cologne and burnt tobacco on his flannel, a mix of sandalwood with his natural musk made you feel intoxicated. And Beau Arlen was not someone you could quit.

You licked his cheek before hopping off the bed and back to your hamper, you weren’t going to break; if he thought you were a “kid” still, you might as well still act like one.

His head dropped to his shoulders as you walked out of the room with the hamper, and ran down the stairs to realize what you’d just gotten yourself into.

[dibelladonna]

✶⋆.˚ Older ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ pt. 1

(18+ MDNI)

total word count (so far): 8,551

Read me on Ao3! ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

⋆˚࿔ Find all the Parts Here 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

Summary:

"Persephone, I wasn't lying when I said I would burn the world for you."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

—Hades and Persephone, Unknown

꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

He was everywhere you went; Gino's pub on Friday nights when you went line dancing with your friends, your favorite spot at the lake, you can't escape him when he's always in your house taking the last beer. It doesn't make it better when his duty-as sheriff and your father's best friend-is to monitor your every move.

After a series of robberies and break-ins, it's only fitting your father would assign Sheriff Arlen to be your unofficial body guard until further notice. A few years ago, it would've been different; because a few years ago YOU were different, but college changes people. Maybe you don't see it, but he does.

He notices the stolen glances you share with one another, the way your heart races when he calls you "sweetheart," and even if he knows it's wrong, he can't help himself most nights.

He's older than you, by at least twenty years, he's off limits, he practically grew up with your father, and there's no getting away from it.

tags🏷️ :

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of y/n for reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can

Chapter 01: His Favorite Girl

wc: 1.2k

The tire swing was still hanging from the oak tree, just as you remember it being there. So many summers spent at the lake with your friends, your dad finally let you go out on your own when you began high school. High school, God, it feels like such a distant memory, you’d only graduated, what? Three years ago this June? Your friends should be coming home this weekend, Shayla mentioned she had finals all this week and with the five hour drive… Truthfully, you were lonely at college; your roommates weren’t the greatest, not many interesting classmates, you often just kept to yourself.

You inhaled your cigarette, feeling the dopamine rush as it hit the back of your throat. You missed this. The fog, cicadas and bats leaving their respective trees. After reading The Raft you knew better than to swim alone in the lake, even if you knew it like the back of your hand. Blame Shayla for gushing over his books. The sun had set a little over an hour ago behind the trees when you decided to take your old bike out of the garage and take yourself back here. Dad mentioned trying to sell it during a yard sale in the spring but decided against it, he knew you’d still use it for nights like these.

Unfortunately, this is the one occasion in which he asked for you to be home before sundown, he’s obsessed with the news and thinks you’ll get mugged. You wouldn’t, you carried pepper spray all around your college campus and even kept it in your bag now along with the golds. Another thing Dad would disapprove of, picking up another one of his habits.

Headlights flashed over the lake, you turned and covered your eyes from the blinding truck lights. Fuck. You took a quick drag from your cigarette before putting it out in the grass, covering it with some leaves. The truck lights turned off and one boot stomped on the ground after another. You noticed his starchy jeans first, then his flashy belt buckle, slowly making your way up to a sighing sheriff.

You give a cheesy smile, giving a salute. “Evening, Sheriff. Lovely weather we’re having this evening, no?”

You’re busted and you look like an idiot trying to get yourself out of it. Beau’s rough hands rest on his hips, staring down at you, waiting for either one of you to break the silence.

After a moment, he asks, “Ain’t your daddy tell ‘ya you have to be home durin’ a time like this, sweetheart?” His voice sounds much different than when you last saw each other in the fall. There’s a touch of gray in his beard, his furrowed brows grew more wrinkles. He licked his lips waiting for you to answer.

“I was just on my way home,” You defy, trying to pick up your bag before Beau beats you to it.

He scoops it from the ground and holds it high above your head. “Ain’t anyone tell you smokin’s a dirty habit?” One hand reaches in and pulls out your Marlboros.

You rub the dirt off your knees before snatching your purse back before he can rummage through anything else.

“Pot, meet kettle,” you mutter loud enough to earn a chuckle from Beau. You go grab your bike to make your way back home before he stops you.

“You’re not ridin’ it.”

“What?” You turn back to him.

“The bike,” he says, walking towards you. “Your daddy won’t forgive me if I’d let ‘ya ride that thing home.” Beau meets your gaze, arms crossed around his chest. “I’ll put it in the bed, c’mon.”

The cigarette wasn’t laced, you just couldn’t figure out if his words were intentional or not.

The drive home in his truck was the same as every other time he’d driven you home. Sometimes he’d get calls from work and you’d stare out the window, other times he’d let you pick out which CDs to play, and on rare occasions it was awkward silence. It felt like being a teenager again; being picked up, drunk, at a party by your dad – except this time it was Beau giving you the disappointing silence.

“‘Yer gonna get hurt,” he starts, giving you subtle glances. “Goin’ out late on your own like that, ‘yer dad and I just want you to be safe.”

You roll your eyes and slump back into the seat. The radio’s playing some old Van Halen song Beau would usually hum along to, instead of this.

Last September he had a woman wrapped around his finger, but according to the town gossip it didn’t last long – not that it was any of your business. You just felt kind of awkward when hugging him goodbye, it didn’t feel like any ordinary hug.

“Come back real soon, Sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear. “I’ll miss you too much.” When you pulled away from the hug you could only give a smile, before taking the bus upstate to go back to school.

But you didn’t come back, not really. During Thanksgiving break most of the roads were flooded from a nasty storm, as for Christmas break you fell ill with the flu. You simply couldn’t find an excuse to not come home for spring break, knowing Beau would be at your house with open arms.

This wasn’t exactly how you wanted to face him after the last time you saw him.

What did he mean by that? “I’ll miss you too much.” Dad didn’t even tell you he’d miss you, then again, you spoke on the phone almost everyday. Beau was… Beau. Sheriff Arlon.

One hand was gripped, steadying the wheel with his other hand palming his thigh. He had a scar on his right hand, his veins pumped with blood. Beau caught your eyes on his palming hand and smiled to himself.

He was attractive, both of you knew that. Olive fair skin, his body aged like a fine moscato. Most men in their forties had let themselves go, but Beau was up before the sun, running through the town, glistening from sweat, probably–

“We’re here, darlin.’”

You look out of the passenger window and see the porch light on, the fog still taking over the visibility.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Thank you.” You look back over to Beau, who quickly glances at his steering wheel.

After putting your bike in the garage, you walk him back to his truck in the quiet night, footsteps in the gravel giving percussion.

“‘Yer gonna need to be safer, sweetheart,” he tells you in a warm tone. “I don’t wanna see my favorite girl in any sort of trouble.”

“Your girl?” You glance up.

Beau clears his throat. “Me and ‘yer dad’s favorite girl.” His hands went back to his hips, his boots scuffed the pebbles. “I’ll always come to the rescue when it comes to you.”

He left you with that, before ruffing your damp hair up and stepping back into his truck. He drove off into the dark fog, continuing to make eye contact with you until leaving your street.

He would’ve been the greatest risk you’d ever take, yet the reward would be the sweetest drops of nectar.

A/N:

Hi! Me again (sorry), chances are this is going to revised and written better, I promise it will GET BETTER! Hopefully you enjoyed the first chapter, I will be working on this as much as I can. I haven’t written fanfiction in a few years so please bear with me🙏🏽

[lux4life1989]

[heroesmakingbadchoices]

It’s 2016. A weekday night. The two men on my tv screen climb into their car, having survived yet another near-death experience. Carry On My Wayward Son swells through the speakers. I know I am about to be queerbaited. I watch anyway.

It’s 2026. A weekday night. The two men on my tv screen climb into their car, having survived yet another near-death experience. Carry On My Wayward Son swells through the speakers. I know I am about to be queerbaited. I watch anyway—

[veronicaleighauthor]

[thefriendlypigeon]

Preacher Dean Winchester is fighting to keep his flock together, but belief alone isn’t enough. No matter how hard he preaches hope, seemingly supernatural evils continue to plague his town. When a mysterious sickness begins to choke the life from his brother, Dean’s faith starts to unravel. Alone in his church, he crumples to his knees and prays, over and over, when suddenly…

[my social media links]

[circusgoth-dotcom]

guys who's ready for perfectly even february in a week

[felixxmarie]

Stardew valley ass month

[kvassretriever]