✌🏻Beainabottle✌🏻

She/her • memes • Bi • 26 • Aries • Welsh #beainabottle writes for my work 🔞Minors will be blocked🔞 Lost access to my old account so this is the new one

[beainabottleii]

Hi! It’s Bea from @beainabottle and this is my bulletin board!

Any news and updates will be here !

• so my worst nightmare has happened

And I’ve lost access to the account I have been using since I was like 14. It’s not gone and my shit is still there if you wanna go look. Really bummed but I’m just trying to see it as a fresh start.

Song of the week:

[dasloddl]

op disabled reblogs but I think the point still stands

[lofi-fics]

where the heart is

One ← TWO → Three

About: The day looks very different for you and Travis, as you get ready for another day at work and he is finally released from Elsworth Prison.

CW: 18+ MDNI; language, little angsty (sad Travis)

WC: 1.8k

18 Fucking Months Later

As you dice up some fruit and cut pieces of buttered toast into strips for Mikey, Travis is changing out of his prison-issued scrubs into standard-issued street attire. He no longer had the clothes he'd come into Elsworth with; those had gone with you during his first week inside, with the plan that you'd bring him a fresh going-home outfit on the Big Day.

But things don't always work out the way you'd hoped.

While you twisted your hair into a claw clip, letting several strands fall free around your face and not really caring to try and catch them all (your boss at the diner didn't really care, so long as no one complained of any hair in their food), Travis was handed a cardboard box with his effects in it - a half a pack of cigarretes, a green Zippo lighter, $5.83, and a pink, circular container of stale Bubble Tape gum. His phone was in there too, but it was, of course, completely dead.

While you dropped Mikey off with your mom, squishing her little cheeks between your fingers and blowing one more raspberry on her tummy just to have the sound of her baby giggles ringing in your ears on the way to work, Travis was riding the city bus to his mom's house where he would be staying until he got a job and back on his feet.

He knocked at the door to the double-wide and heard a smoker's coughing fit erupt from inside.

"Coming, I'm coming. Better not be sellin' more of them damn security systems, I swear to Christ I'll --" She finishes a yawn with a scowl, but her face softens through the screen door when she sees her son standing there with a box and a big, goofy grin.

"Not sellin' nothin', Ma."

"Travis! Get on in here, sugar." She flung the door open and threw her thin, stringy arms around him, surprisingly strong for a woman her size.

Travis closes his eyes and hugs her tightly back, realizing how touch-starved he had become while he was away. His mom visited occasionally, when her work schedule, health, and finances would allow, but usually it was just on major holidays. She came once for his birthday, but the second one that rolled around went forgotten.

Well, mostly. He didn't have any way of knowing, but you'd quietly blown the candle out on a cupcake for him on both of his birthdays, wishing him a peaceful night and for something good to happen to him.

While he got settled in at his mother's home, you drove to work. It wasn't a particularly busy morning at the diner, but it was only 6 AM on a Wednesday. The lunch crowd was sure to be a bit more bustling.

You cleaned up behind the counters, threw out the ratty menus, swept, mopped, refilled all the salt and pepper shakers, and brewed a fresh pot of coffee. You found that the busier you stayed, the quicker the day passed. Idle hands, and all that jazz.

You took a smoke break around 11 AM, about an hour till you were off. You call your mom to check on her and Mikey, blowing kisses to the 10-month old when she stole the phone and drooled all over the camera, babbling "mama, ma ma maaaa" like she was dishing out the hottest gossip.

Your coworker and friend, Shannon, burst through the back doors, eyes wide with what looked like some mild alarm. Did the fryers conk out again? Last time that happened, it was a real pain in the ass. It couldn't be further out of your hands, but somehow having to be the one to deliver the bad news of, "Sorry, no fries with that burger today" was enough for diners to deem you worthy of having your tips cut nearly in half.

You crush the butt of your cigarette under your shoe and tip your chin towards her.

"What's up?"

"You, uh...you got a table."

You snort a laugh, taken aback by this riveting news, and make kissy faces to Mikey on the phone one last time before hanging up with a sing-song, "Bye-byeee! I love youuu!"

Then your demeanor immediately hardens, turning serious and almost downright grave.

"Alright, now don't panic, Shan. I'm kinda used to this sorta thing by now, everything's gonna be alright."

"Oh, just go inside and see for yourself, you snarky bitch." She lights up her own smoke, thus beginning her own break. You stick your tongue out at her affectionately, and she just winks back.

You pop back into the kitchen, washing your hands and resecuring your apron around your waist. With pen and paper in hand, you push through the swinging saloon doors that lead to the front of house to greet your customer.

The guy seated at the booth is facing away from you, perusing the menu and tapping his foot nervously on the tile floor. His hair is wavy, close to shoulder-length, and bleached blonde with dark roots peeking out on his scalp. It was almost uncanny, but from behind you could almost swear it was -

"Travis," His name sneaks past your lips on an exhale when his unmistakable side profile comes into view.

You knew Mikey favored him, that was plain as day to you from the moment she was born, but as he sits here in front of you again for the first time in a year and a half, it really drives home much your daughter is really just Travis made over. The slope of their noses, their big, sweet hazel eyes, the little bow of their lips - all alike. His hair was dyed now (probably a fun little project to pass the time in prison) but you knew that without it they would even have the same mop of dark waves atop their heads.

His jaw hangs agape, twisting into a wide, happy, open-mouthed smile as he stands straight up out of the booth.

"Oh my God, hey!"

"You're...here."

He nods sheepishly, planting his hands on his hips and doing absolutely nothing to hide the absolute glee on his face from seeing you.

"Fresh out the slammer, yep. Just got my stuff settled in over at Mom's. I had no idea you worked here, no idea you'd even still be here in Atchison!"

You fold your arms across your chest, a strange warmth intermingling with an even stranger numbness settling there.

"...Where else would I be?"

Scratching the back of his neck, he mutters, "Man, I dunno. Seeing the world or somethin'?"

Seeing the world? Is that seriously what he thought you'd be doing after he dumped you from prison? After he knocked you up, went to prison, then dumped you? No yeah, I'll just take a trip to go see the Eiffel Tower about it - was he serious?

"No, my dream is to be a waitress here at the Grease Trap. Sorry, didn't I ever tell ya that? Speaking of, you gonna order somethin'?"

He smirks, nodding. "Two Cokes, one for you one for me. Come sit with me a minute?"

"Can't, Trav. I'm busy."

He quirks a brow and twists his face up in confusion, glancing around the completely empty diner. It was a little slower than usual, you'll admit. With a huff, you pour two glasses of Coke with ice and sit across from him in the booth.

"Anyone comes in, I gotta go."

"Sure, absolutely." He says coolly, but you can see that there's excitement bubbling beneath his very surface; his eyes are glittering with it.

No other customers come into the diner during your shift. It's like the city put a memo out, telling everyone to let you have lunch uninterrupted with your ex-convict/ex-boyfriend/baby daddy. How kind of them.

"So, how was prison? Everything you hoped it'd be?" You sip from your Coke and look at him with dull eyes hoping the dig landed enough to check his ego a little bit.

"Hm. Fuckin' sucked, to be honest. But I guess it coulda been worse."

You nod with a bitter chuckle, eyes glazed over as you twist the paper wrapper from your straw into wiry little figures. He reaches across the table a few inches, stopping just short of your pinkies touching. Still too close. You tuck your hands into your lap and wring them together.

"Coulda been better, though." He mutters under his breath. Now you do turn your attention to his face, fixing him with a stern look.

"Oh, so it was still boring without me anyway? What a fuckin' shame."

He looks at you like a dog that just ruined your favorite pair of slippers, and tries hopelessly to swallow the lump in his throat that simply won't go away.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm so sorry, baby. I'm a real fuckin' dumbass, I just thought... Maybe if I let you go, you'd be free and happy. Y'know? And look, you're beautiful every goddamn day of your life, don't get me wrong...but every time you came in to see me, you looked so sick, and frail. I hated what that place was doin' to ya, so I wanted to get you out of it. But I knew ya wouldn't leave on your own, cause you're hardheaded --"

"No, I wouldn't have left on my own cause I loved you. There are things worth being hardheaded about, Travis."

Your phone alarm goes off, and you curse under your breath that you let the time get away from you like this. Your shift would be over in 20 minutes, you needed to cash out and finish up for the day so you could go get Mikey.

"Shit, I gotta go."

"Wait! Um - is it okay if I still come eat here sometimes? Like, it won't bother you, will it?"

You shrug nonchalantly, even though you feel your ears starting to burn. "It's a free country."

"Yeah, sure. It is, but like, I want you to be comfortable, know what I'm sayin'? If you would rather me stay away from here, I can just like, cross it off my list or whatever. I'd rather not, but I will --"

"Tea, I have to go. I gotta..."

He nods, holding his hands up in surrender but looking away in defeat.

"My bad, I know. Motormouth. Go ahead, I'll uh - see ya around."

You exhale slowly until the last drop of air is forced from your lungs, and you hold it there, letting it burn. You tilt your head all back, neck hyperextended, waiting for whatever God was sitting around up there to tell you you're making a huge mistake, don't do it, just leave him here --

"Travis. I gotta go pick up my kid from my mom's." Your voice breaks unexpectedly at the suddenness and the relief of the confession; his shoulders sag in disbelief.

"O-oh? You - wow, you're a mom, huh? That's...well that's great, I had no idea. Always knew you'd be a great one, so yeah, no, that's...that's cool, congrats."

You roll your eyes but can't hide your faint smile at his attempt at casual indifference; you gesture for him to follow you outside.

"C'mon, meathead. You wanna go meet your daughter or what?"

Travis' heart bursts in his chest.

🎀taglist🎀

@exooojongdaeee @stabmeagainchucky @keeryhours @whispersoflost @bellastone @nowprettybbyimrunning @eller41 @skelkitty @djoaholic @beainabottleii @cozybibliophile @jajajhaahaha

[userglitched]

he's trying very hard. but once a bitch, always a bitch

[beainabottleii]

My sassy lil bitch I love him 🥺

[eternal-sunflowers]

Joe's premiere looks over the seasons 🥹💜

Via joekeeyfeed insta

[hoekeerymm]

awww what a cute baby!!

awww what a cute baby!!

GATOR TILLMAN GATOR TILLMAN

awww what a cute baby!!

awww what a cute baby!!

[beainabottleii]

His style is one of my favorite things about him 🥺🥺

[cupofdjoplease]

[djospurnell]

the fucking lip bite

via strawberrisammi on tiktok

[djospurnell]

this is so fucking hot you either get it or you’re wrong

via itsdjokeeryfan on twitter (X)

[beainabottleii]

He’s such a whore. I love him. 😍

[reactionimagesdaily]

[dailaafterdark]

description: cock warming with gator while you do your makeup:3

tw! smut, MDNI,unprotected piv, one homophobic comment.

word count! 1.0k

“Gatorrr!” you yelled out into the cabin.
Dead silence echoed throughout the house.
You huffed before trying again. “GATORRR!”

Gator walked into the room. “Jesus Christ, woman, what in the hell do you want? Always hollerin’ my ear off.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you just come sit at my vanity chair?”

“Nuh uh. Nope. You ain’t tryin’ that makeup shit on me again. I ain’t no queer.”

“Oh my god can you just shut up for five minutes and come sit?”

Gator grumbled under his breath before crossing your shared bedroom and sitting in your vanity chair. “Alright. Now what?”

You stood above him, staring at him with a smirk, before you reached down and started to unbuckle his belt.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Oh my god, Gator, are you actually going to question me while I’m undoing your pants right now?”

Gator went silent and let you continue until you finally freed his cock. He was still soft, clearly not horny enough to get hard given the fact that Roy had given him an earful earlier in the day.

“What do you wanna watch?” You turned around, turning the TV on and leaving him out in the open, bare.

“Porn? What kinda freaky shit you plannin’ over there?”

“No, Gator, not porn. Like a show or a game or something, I dunno.”

“Uh… they got any football on? Why you want me watchin’ somethin’ anyway?”

You ignored Gator as you found a football game that was on (god bless it was football season, because it was the only way you could get Gator to sit down and watch something without complaining).

As you got the entertainment on for Gator, you made your way to yours. You shimmied out of your sweats and black thong, completely leaving yourself bare from the waist down. You made eye contact with Gator as he stared at your naked lower half. If he wasn’t hard before, he definitely would be now. Without warning you turned your back to him, and wrapped your fingers around his cock. It twitched in your hand, thickening fast as you stroked him slow from base to tip. You lined him up, felt the blunt head nudge against your entrance, then sank down. The stretch burned sweet and deep as your walls parted around him, inch by inch, until you were half way seated. Heat bloomed low in your belly. You watched him in the vanity mirror eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, a low grunt vibrating out of his chest.

“Goddamn, woman… what the hell you tryin’ to do?” he asked, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Just watch your game while I do my makeup,” you answered, acting unfazed by the fact that Gator’s cock was halfway into your guts.

You opened your vanity drawer, picking up your eyebrow pencil, and started to fill them in. Then you pumped primer onto your skin and grabbed your concealer to conceal your brows.

Gator tried his best to focus on his game, but every time you shifted it just added to his hard on, which was starting to hurt from the lack of friction.

You settled deeper onto him, hips rocking just enough to take the rest of his length until you were fully seated, the stretch making your breath hitch once before you forced yourself still. Gator’s hands twitched on the arms of the vanity chair like he wanted to grab your waist but was too stubborn to give in yet. On the TV, a referee’s whistle blew and some guy in pads got leveled; Gator’s eyes stayed glued to the screen even while his cock throbbed hard inside you.

You leaned forward toward the mirror, elbows braced on the vanity top so your back arched and your ass pressed flush against his hips. The new angle made him grunt low in his throat.

“Fuc- sit still, will ya?” he muttered, voice rough.

You kept your eyes on the mirror, blending concealer under your eyes with the little sponge. The spongy texture whispered against your skin. Gator’s cock throbbed inside you, thick and hot, and every time you leaned forward to get closer to the mirror your walls clenched around him. He answered with another failed thrust, the chair legs scraping the floor as he tried to fuck up into you from below.

“You’re doin’ this on purpose,” he accused, eyes flicking from the game to the mirror and back.

“Doing what? Makeup?” You smirked at his reflection, deliberately clenching around him once. His breath punched out of him.

“Jesus Christ, woman-”

His hands finally left the chair and clamped onto your bare thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. He thrust up again, harder this time, the wet slap of skin on skin loud under the football commentary.

Gator kept trying to move beneath you short, frustrated rolls of his hips that made his cock drag deep along your walls. Each thrust sent a hot pulse of pleasure through you, but you stayed steady, blending product over your cheeks like this was any normal night.

The crowd on the TV roared. Gator’s grip tightened. He thrust up again, deeper, the head of his cock pressing against that sensitive spot inside you until your thighs trembled.

You kept your voice light. “Score?”

He glanced at the screen, distracted and panting. “Fourteen to seven. Don’t you start movin’ like that, wait… no… fuck, don’t stop”

You gave one slow, deliberate circle of your hips, just enough to make him curse under his breath, then went right back to smoothing foundation like nothing was happening. His cock twitched hard inside you. He tried to thrust up again, desperate for more friction, but you stayed planted, using your weight to keep him pinned to the chair.

“Makeup first,” you reminded him, catching his eyes in the mirror. Heat and wetness slicked the place where your bodies met. “Game’s not going anywhere. Neither are you.”

I know Gator is a terrible person, but I felt like this was more of a Gator type plot. Sorry 😞

-defnotdailaaa out!

[beainabottleii]

Yall are sleeping on this girl, you’re missing out. You gotta check her out. If you like this you will LOVE her other work !!! She deserves a billion likes and followers

[oohlillie]

he’s so sassy

[tired-biscuit]

you know that trope where it’s princess + knight, but they’ve both been captured by the bad guys and the princess is now gripped by the jaw by the villain, receiving a thin cut to her cheek while remaining completely still with a defiant look in her eyes even as a droplet of blood begins to trickle out of the wound, all while 3 people AT THE VERY LEAST need to have their hands locked on the knight because he’s thrashing around like a wild animal, trying so so so desperately, violently, to get to her?

yeah, that’s porn to me.

[space-writes]

the Writer Mood™ when you've got the shadow of a concept of a scene and a couple lines of dialogue bouncing around in your head like a screensaver and you have to be like buddy, come back when you're something coherent. i can't do anything with this.

[beainabottleii]

The best symbiotic relationship is between writers and graphic designers. Like there are people on this site who just create graphics to make our stories and blogs pretty for FREE and we credit them when using them. Team work at its finest 😘🤌🏻 just a little appreciation post for the artist out there. Thank you. We love you. 💛

[anxietyproblem]

[thelittledaily-deactivated20260]

REBLOG THIS TO GIVE THE PERSON YOU REBLOGGED THIS FROM A GOLD STAR BECAUSE THEY’VE BEEN STELLAR TODAY AND THEY DESERVE IT ⭐️

[dailaafterdark]

Master list

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏsᴛ ᴏғ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ.

description: Moving to a new city for a job that you didn’t get, leaving you with limited options until a man with money comes along and solves your problems.

sugardaddy!older!steve x younger!girly!reader x modernworld

Tw!MDNI, eventual smut, fluff, hurt/comfort,tension, age gap

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5 (07.31.26)

chapter 6(08.01.26)

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ….

[beainabottleii]

This series is so fuckin cute man ahhhhhh it gives me these vibes