#rackin bathroom

[jaxteller87]

Big Papa 2

I meticulously scurried around the house, slowly chipping away at my never-ending list of chores. Jax was out on a run, just a short two-day trip this time. If it were any longer, he wouldn’t have even considered going. Despite being fully healed after my grueling six months of physical rehabilitation, I still didn’t have my full range of energy back, although time would change this. I’m just happy that my hair has grown out completely. Juice had promised to keep an eye on me, but I reassured him that I could handle myself during the day. I just needed him to be at the house by sunset. That was a rule I had recently added to our little agreement. You see when Teller wasn’t around, I couldn’t play the role of my own babysitter. And personally, I knew that I didn’t need one all the time, nor did I want one. For longer than I can remember now, that’s how it’s been, so I struck a deal with Juice – and as long as he was there at sunset, everything would be fine. And surprisingly, Teller agreed to that addition without much fuss.

As I went about my chores, a familiar tune was in the air, and I couldn’t help but sing along, “How I love it when you call me Big Poppa.” The rhythmic beats of 90’s R&B still held a special place in my heart. Although, in all fairness, Biggie was more renowned for his rap rather than R&B back then. Taking a moment to soak in the nostalgia, I glanced around the kitchen before wheeling myself down the hall towards the shower. The sweltering heat in Charming that day was nothing short of miserable and quite disgusting.

Once I entered the steamy bathroom, I turned my gaze towards the shower door, only to find my ol man grinning at me. He had taken off his clothes, wearing nothing more but a mischievous smile. My smile grew wider as Jax swung open the shower door and effortlessly lifted me onto his lap. To say I was ecstatically surprised by his unexpected presence would have been a massive understatement.

“I thought you weren’t coming home until late?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I left early,” he whispered, nibbling my neck and playfully grabbing my breast, “plus, I guess I just missed you too much.”

“Let me guess; you didn’t tell anyone you left?”

“Who would I need to tell?” he answered disconcertingly, kissing my chest.

 “Oh, I don’t know, Clay, maybe?” I said sarcastically.

“Fuck Clay. He could have sent anyone else on that run, but instead, he makes his shit plan my problem.”

“Oh, anything you want to talk about?” I asked, already knowing that he wouldn’t bring me into club business. Not that he didn’t trust me; I just knew how much he needed me in the other world, like an anchor for him to hold onto. I don’t think he’d have much of a life outside the Sons if it weren’t for me.

“Nah, I just heard him telling Bobby that since you’ve been cleared, I need to focus a little more on the club. In the meantime, him and Gemma are rackin’ up quite the bill between Hobby Lobby and Pottery Barn.”

“Hobby Lobby and Pottery Barn? Should I even ask?”

“Nope,” he said, kissing my neck, “just another one of Gemma’s home projects. She has Clay so whipped; I wouldn’t be surprised if she started picking out his outfits soon too.”

“Oh,” I said softly.

“Let’s not talk about them,” he suggested.

“Okay. What do you want to talk about then?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe about how much I missed you today,” he started sucking on my neck, just below my ear.

I moaned uncontrollably, “Easy Teller, I don’t have concealer to cover that up.”

He stopped, moving down my chest, softly using his teeth to bite my breast. I dug my fingertips into his back as I tried to contain my emotion, but I couldn’t help it and moaned even louder. “Oh goodness,” I said softly.

Before I knew it, he had me up against the wall, passionately loving me. “Oh goodness, Big  Poppa,” I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, letting him have his way with me and loving every moment of it.

After a short yet invigorating experience in the shower, we found ourselves naked, cuddling in bed, and enjoying each other’s company. Jax has always been wonderful with aftercare making sure I have a drink, more importantly, cuddles afterward.

“Feel better, sweetheart?” I whispered, nuzzling my head under his chin.

“Much better, darlin’,” he chuckled a little.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” he smiled and then chuckled again.

“No, tell me,” I pinched his nipple and sat up in bed, giving him the look.

“Ow! Okay,” he said, rubbing his chest, “I got you to say, oh goodness, not once but twice.”

“Oh,” I playfully slapped his chest and snuggled up to him again, “don’t get too full of yourself, cowboy.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” he stroked my back.

“But I didn’t like it,” I said, and the stroking suddenly stopped.

“What?”

“Yeah, I didn’t like it at all,” I paused for dramatic effect, “I LOVED it!”

“Oh, you little shit!” he flipped around, positioning himself on top of me.

He leaned in to kiss me, but I playfully turned away. He tried again, but I turned my head to the other side. Then, with a forceful yet gentle motion, he grabbed both my wrists, pinning me to the bed, and began deeply kissing me.

As we kissed passionately, I felt him enter me. Almost instantly, we found ourselves grinding in a sweet rhythm. My hands slowly glided down his back, leaving marks on him from my fingernails. When I reached his tight ass, I grabbed him, a cheek in each hand, and forced him deeper inside me.

“Fuck me, Big Poppa,” I moan loudly, “fuck me hard!”

“I love you, Amber,” he moaned, nibbling on my earlobe. He continuously penetrated me, just like moments earlier in the shower, but somehow, this time was even more incredible.

“Harder, Poppa,” I managed to say amidst all my moaning, but I was nearly breathless.

Unlike the quick little rendezvous in the shower, this round went the distance, and I climaxed twice before he got off.

            “Have I told you lately that you’re amazing?” he asked, rolling over beside me.

            “Yeah, but I don’t get tired of hearing it,” I looked down and smiled at his manhood as it still throbbed from our little romp.

I love that man. I love him with every fiber of my being.

A few days had passed, and I found myself at the clubhouse, seeking some semblance of entertainment. The croweaters, or as Donna and I affectionately referred to them, the lurking lizards, were hanging around as usual, eyeing the club members with an insatiable hunger. Rolling out of Gemma’s office, I couldn’t help but notice a few of the girls practically drooling over something. Curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked outside.

Unsurprisingly, I spotted Tig, Bobby, and Hap perched on their bikes alongside my ol man. I couldn’t blame those girls; there was an undeniable allure about the boys when they were astride their powerful machines. Good lord, the sight alone made me weak in the knees. “Just take me now,” I thought, unable to resist the primal attraction that stirred within me. And then, as if fate had heard my silent plea, my husband started walking towards me, wearing a devastatingly charming smile.

“Come here,” he said, his voice oozing with confidence as he swept me off my wheelchair, effortlessly carrying me towards his old room. It was another one of Jax’s not-so-subtle ways of staking his claim, letting those lurking lizards know that I belonged to him and him alone.

“Meeting go okay?” I asked as we snuggled on the old bed.

“It did,” he smiled, helping me wrap my leg around his, “but I wanted to have a little meeting with you, one-on-one.”

“Is that so?” I hugged him, pulling him on top of me.

“It is,” he grinned, kissing my lips, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Big Poppa.” And round three commenced.

[meadowmines]

OC-Tober Day 3: Control

[In which Aoyagi's boss catches him Dealing With Shit in a way that is... not the unhealthiest, but still concerning enough to rate a talking-to.]

"Whatcha doin'?"

It's the same tone of voice you'd use when your four-year-old has been quiet for way too long and you find them fingerpainting the dog. Best not to ask how Aoyagi knows that.

"Scrubbin' the floor," he says, without looking up, like it's obvious. Like it's not three in the morning and the floor he's scrubbing isn't in the Majima Family office bathroom. Like this is a normal thing normal people do at three in the morning. No, Aoyagi might not be an official family man but he's a close enough "friend of the family" that him hanging out here isn't weird. Even if it's three in the morning and the "hanging out" he's doing is aggressively deep cleaning the place.

"Ain't ya got a floor at home?"

"Already scrubbed it."

"Ain't ya got a floor at the cafe?"

"The boys scrubbed it at closing time."

"Huh."

Aoyagi thinks, for a hot second, that's the end of the interrogation. He should know better. He does know better. He doesn't look up. He doesn't have to look up to know what's coming. Those shiny steel-toed shoes, heels clicking across the parts of the floor Aoyagi hasn't scrubbed yet. The creak of leather as Majima-san hunkers down just outside the boundary of his personal space.

"Ya don't drink. Ya don't smoke. Ya don't gamble, other than yer shogi hustlin' shit ya probably think I ain't heard about." Goddammit, nothing gets past him, does it? "And personally, I don't count it as gamblin' if ya know yer gonna win, so there. Ya don't piss all yer money away on fancy shit ya don't need. Ya don't stay out all night manwhorin' it up. The only white powder ya ever get into is flour." Snakeskin and black leather sneak into Aoyagi's carefully cultivated tunnel vision and the scrub brush is ever so gently removed from his hand. "Guess there's worse shit to end up hooked on than scrubbin' the floor at fuckall o'clock in the mornin'. Or do ya think I ain't noticed how much cleaner this place is lately?"

Shit.

"Hey. Get up off the floor n' leave some shit for my boys to scrub in the mornin', huh?"

It's not an order. Again, "friend of the family," Majima-san is only Aoyagi's boss in the sense that he owns the cafe (for now at least, but never mind that). But as far as Aoyagi is concerned, any request that comes from him may as well be a command from the gods themselves. As much as he hates to leave a job half-finished, Aoyagi huffs out a sigh and stands up.

---

"I get it, y'know."

They're sitting out in the main room. Zombie movie on the TV. Beer on a coaster in front of Majima-san. Canned coffee on a coaster in front of Aoyagi.

"Ya go that long not havin' a damn bit of say in anything that's happenin' to ya... course the second it sinks in yer free, yer gonna latch onto the first thing ya see that gives ya some control back." There's the scratch-click of a lighter. The smell of cigarette smoke. "And bein' clean's about the easiest one there is, ain't it? Little soap n' water's all it takes to make dirt yer bitch."

Aoyagi splutters out a helpless laugh. Fucking hell, what he wouldn't give to have half the way with words this guy does.

"Ya think I wear these 'cause they look cool?" Majima-san holds up a hand and wiggles his leather-gloved fingers. "I mean. They do look cool as shit, right?"

"They look cool as shit," Aoyagi confirms, and he tries to keep the smile from creeping in there but it's late and he's tired and he doesn't have the energy to try too hard.

"Hell yeah they do." He's quiet for a while. "Cheaper than the hand soap bill I was rackin' up, too."

Aoyagi tries to imagine the unstoppable force of nature that is Goro Goddamn Majima scrubbing his hands raw every time he even thinks he's touched something dirty or every time his brain is making too awful a racket to let him sleep, in the same way he himself wakes up in a cold sweat with the worst months of his life freshly dredged up to the surface and feels that deep visceral need to spit-polish his surroundings spotless. It's not easy to imagine, but it's easier than he thinks it should be and it makes his blood run cold.

"Like I said. I'd rather see ya up here scrubbin' the shitters at three in the mornin' than out on the street puttin' God knows what up yer nose or in yer veins or whatever. Just make sure it's what you wanna do n' not what some punkass shoulder devil's whisperin' in yer ear."

"How do I tell the difference?" Aoyagi asks.

"Dunno," Majima-san says with a shrug. "I'll let ya know when I figure it out."

[abalonetea]

a short little scene I've been thinking about for The Business, during the third season.

might not stay canon but it was fun to write!

“what happened?”

“f-fucker upped three L-level at wuh-once.”

Salt twists around on the couch, getting up on his knees so he can hang over the back and stare at the bathroom door. “the fuck?”

“he’s b-being a d-duh-dumbass. f-fuckin’ brat st-stalled out at t-ten years ago. r-rackin’ it up th-this f-fast is g-gonna give him a Hell of a time.” Tequila throws himself down on the other side of the couch, picking absently at his teeth with one sharp claw. 

two months ago, it would have looked like he didn’t care, but Salt’s getting better at seeing through that. it’s the pin of Tequila’s ears, the curl of his whiskers.

Salt can’t help himself. tries to stay out of their business usually, but asks, “why the fuck is he doing it then?”

Tequila squints at him. “cause th-this shit storm has him r-r-ruh-fuck. rattled. just cause you d-deal with guh-gettin’ fucked over by ign-noring it, don’t mean that’s how everyone d-does it.”

oh.

Rye.

Thyme.

the fight with Vinegar. 

“soon as this sh-shit set-t-settles down, he ain’t g-gonna have to guh-gain more Levels.” the ever isn’t verbalized, but Salt can hear it all the same; in the vicious pulse of Tequila’s magic, the snarl of his words, the flash of red in his eyes.

Lime might have gotten fucked over this time, but it’s not going to happen again.

Tequila will make damned sure of it.

[theliftingqueens-blog]

Quick tip for booze rackin for all ur followers! Safew@ys and Tr@der Jo*s are GOLD MINES. What I do is pick up however many bottles I want lay them in the bottom of my basket n then cover them w bags of chips other misc groceries. Go into a bathroom w ur basket load the booze into ur purse or backpack and either walk out and put other groceries back or purchase! Super easy, super slick, works every time! And u can make bank of bottles so u can actually buy groceries for yourself! Love ur blog 💕

thanks for the advice but walking into the bathroom with your groceries seems super sus! wouldn't recommend this plan to other lifters tbh

[rvarrr]

Coalition Theater

“Stop, stop! You’ve gone TOO FAR,” maybe that’s not what the GPS voice really said to me as I missed my turn, but that’s what I imagine the GPS unit said. It’s also what I used to dream my teachers would say to me, as I unveiled the blue ribbon winning science project to gasps of horror and shock.

I never did win a science project, which is why I review bathrooms now. Sadly, this time, I may truly have gone too far: this bathroom is *not* at a restaurant. No, it’s at the Coalition Theater space, an amazing stop for improv and stand-up comedy. Shows range from professional to student, and are always worth the low admission price.

I want to quickly apologize to my family, my parents, and the friends and co-workers who have supported me for years. I know I’ve let you down by not reviewing a restaurant restroom. All I can do is ask you to give me a chance to redeem myself with this AMAZING BATHROOM REVIEW!

This awesome all-gender and accessible restroom has a clean, tidy toilet with two toilet paper racks--a floor post model and a hanging wall rack.

The second toilet paper rack and some of the cool art. Video game hangout? Yes! The best is still to come though...

That’s right: Commedia dell’Farte. What could be more “on brand” for the restroom of a comedy club? Look at the guy farting the phrase “Live improv comedy”! You know you love this review, you know you love me, and I know that you’ve forgiven me for stepping outside of our usual scope.

Coalition Theater Summary

Wall Art: Whoa baby Cleanliness: On Fire Smelly: Not Smelly! Improv Quality: A+++, Would Laugh Again Beer: Great selections, great prices Proper Pronunciation of Raccoons per Trailer Park Boys: Rackins Gendered-Status: Lovingly open to all Accessibility: Very! Overall:  A Great Place to Wee In-between Beers and Comedy