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UNPLANNED PIT(T) STOPS

airbnb rules

flight seat assignments leaked

claim your boarding pass

passport stamp reblogs

DRABBLES

— REBLOGS KEEP FANDOM ALIVE —

𖤓 fluff 𖦹 angst 𓇼 smut

MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH

𓇼 WATERMELON SUGAR robby makes eating watermelon look indecently seductive, and you’re convinced he’s torturing you on purpose.

𖤓 HELIOPHILIA one flimsy bikini, twelve ignored sun lectures, and robby decides to turn preventative medicine into a hands-on experience

𖤓𖦹 PHTHONUS during a midnight swim, robby watches you laughing in the water with whitaker and realizes just how ugly his jealousy can get.

FRANK LANGDON

𓇼 THE PERFECT DEATH you and frank get caught having sex in the outdoor shower when a coworker comes looking for it after the beach

𖤓 HINDSIGHT 20/20 langdon discovers you wear glasses!

𖤓 STRINGS ATTACHED (SOMETIMES) during a beach volleyball match, a wardrobe malfunction forces frank into an awkward rescue

𖤓 SEE SOMETHING YOU LIKE? during a night out, frank gets cornered by your relentless flirting and finds himself giving in more than usual

𓇼 GUILTY PLEASURE you hook up with frank while his girlfriend is upstairs and the line between pleasure and guilt gets very blurry, very fast.

𖤓 GOOD AS NEW frank tries to impress you with a stolen rental scooter. it goes about as well as expected. at least he helps take care of the damage.

𖤓 BRACHYURA langdon discovers your weakness: being correct. you discover his: needing to argue with you about it

𖤓 MRS. LANGDON HAS A RING TO IT after a swim leaves your hair tangled, frank ends up helping you brush it in the bathroom.

𖤓 IF SELENE IS LISTENING frank coaxes an overtired tired, tipsy you into his lap and takes over the job of being your caretaker

JACK ABBOT

𖤓 DIAMOND CUT after your engagement ring causes a small injury, you seek comfort from your favorite doctor

𓇼 A VERY PUBLIC OFFERING you and jack finally get a second alone on vacation, so he bends you over the balcony and fucks you while everyone else drinks downstairs.

𖤓 HERODEON you set out to explore athens alone, only to end up with an uninvited travel companion

𖤓 PARASITIC you get caught in a sudden rainstorm with jack

𖤓 TIGER SHARKS you lose your bikini top and decide to use jack as a human shield

𖤓 ANDROMEDA the girls keep trying to set you up on vacation. that is, until they find the senior attending in your bed and realize why you keep shutting them down

𖤓 LITTLE MISS PRIM-AND-PROPER when the crew discovers your secret tramp stamp, jack accidentally reveals he knows far more about it than he should

𖤓 MERLOT ON GRAY COTTON when your suitcase gets lost on the way to greece, jack abbot lends you clothes to get by. between nosy coworkers, spilled wine, and jack's teasing, the situation becomes much harder to survive than it should be.

𖤓 MISSED OPPORTUNITIES you're oblivious; jack's permanently flirting. turns out all you needed was a nudge (and a kiss).

𖤓 SISTINE CHAPEL you are trying to read on the beach. jack abbot is nearby shirtless. this proves to be a problem.

𖤓 VACAY-YOU on vacation abbot realizes the version of you from the er isn't the only one that exists

Pope was a fascinating enigma that you loved to study, observing him like you would a primal animal in its natural habitat. Your eyes always roamed the sharp lines of his face, the slope of his nose, the freckles that dotted over his bulging arms and broad shoulders. Pope may not like looking at his reflection, but for the most part, he didn’t need to, not when you admired him like he was a masterpiece in your own personal gallery.

Though there was something in the way your line of sight had a habit of drifting to his hands. You focus on the way his fingers flex around the steering wheel when he drives, or when his digits curl around strands of your hair, or how his knuckles bend when he’s tugging your underwear down your legs before plunging them inside you.

There were other moments where your interest would reappear, when Pope would come home with split knuckles painted in shades of blue and purple from whatever or whoever he was dealing with. He expected you to be scared of him, of the monster he tries his best to keep shackled and far away from you, but that rejection never came. Instead, you’d bring his bleeding hand to your lips, kissing over the bruised tissue and tainting your mouth with crimson, sharing the burden of his actions and his past, no questions asked.

The baggage that came with Andrew and the Cody family wasn’t a defining factor in your relationship. If anything, it’s what enticed you to him, wanting to get closer to him and his world. He welcomed you with a guiding hand into the darkness that haunted him; he let you see the weapons, the drugs, the guns, the violence. It soon became your reality, sharing a bed with the same demons that tormented him in his sleep, nurturing them and keeping them company when he refuses to acknowledge them.

So in your new lifestyle, watching Pope clean his guns was nothing out of the ordinary.

Seated on the couch, you can’t take your eyes away as Pope pops the loaded magazine out with a click. His fingers curl around the long plastic, unclipping it and setting it aside on the coffee table in front of him. Clearing the chamber of any ammunition, he flicks the slide stop lever and pulls it out, removing the slide from the grip and main skeleton of the weapon. He neatly lines up the slide parallel to the magazine, taking the chamber spring and barrel apart with ease as he strips the weapon.

He dramatically snaps on some black latex gloves and reaches for the cleaning solvent and a narrow brush, delicately holding the barrel as he starts his routine. Andrew doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re focused on his hands, tracking every single move and searing them into your memory, just as you’ve done so many times before. So he decides to put on a show for you, twisting his wrist and slowly thrusting the cleaning rod into the barrel with practiced precision.

Pope keeps the pace even on purpose, teasing you and entertaining whatever fantasy you’ve managed to conjure up in that imaginative brain of yours. He fights the urge to grin when he can practically hear your breathing change, briefly glancing at you to notice the way you nibble at your bottom lip with every drag of the brush in and out of the barrel.

To any other person, he would hate being under so much scrutiny, but he’s willing to make an exception for you.

After he’s done oiling the barrel, Pope puts the pistol back together with swift efficiency, each metallic clink bringing a shudder to pulse through you with every installed piece. By the end of it, the pistol sits unified on the coffee table, and you squirm on the sofa with your cotton panties sticking to your cunt under your denim shorts. He peels off the latex gloves and tosses them to the side, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“Are you done staring at me?” Andrew’s gruff voice cuts through the tense air between you. Standing up, you stride towards him and position yourself over his denim-clad thighs, absentmindedly playing with the curls at the crown of his head.

“You know I’m never done, Andy,” you answer, kissing him sweetly on his lips and planting more on his jaw and cheek before whispering in his ear. “You get to stare at me all the time, and I never complain. I like looking at you.”

“No, you like looking at my hands,” he refutes dryly, but he doesn’t pull you away. He keeps his arms to his sides, picking at the red couch cushion and awaiting your next move.

“Yeah, I do. Are you going to say no to me now?” You ask, taking hold of one of his wrists and kissing over his knuckles, nipping playfully at the tip of his finger before slipping his pointer in your mouth. A pleasant sigh slips out of you at the satisfying weight of the digit at the base of your tongue, greedily accepting his middle finger to join the other.

Andrew’s pupils dilate at the sight of you, eagerly sucking lavishly on his two fingers while clutching his wrist to keep him in place. You hum around his digits, the distinct taste of flesh and latex prominent on his textured skin, familiar and comforting all at once.

Undoing the button of your denim shorts with your free hand, you release the two spit-covered fingers from your mouth and bring them lower towards your navel until they sneak under the material of your panties. Pope groans at the feel of your wet pussy at his fingertips, instantly stroking your opening and skirting higher up to find your clit. The sensitive nub twitches at his touch, a breathless giggle punches out of you, and you return to kiss his chin while your free hand snakes to his crotch, palming the bulge you found there.

“Wanna find out how much I like watching you?” You challenge him, glazed eyes locking with his hazel irises, the corner of your lips curling up in a smirk when his nostrils flare on the next exhale. “C’mon, Andy, play with me.”

Andrew already knew the answer to that question, and he knows just how much your obsession with his hands gets you riled up. Fuck he can feel it, the way you clench around nothing, patiently waiting for the stretch of his fingers deep inside until he feeds you with his cock later.

He smiles at the satisfied gasp you give him once he burrows the two digits into your wet heat, snarling up into a kiss. He obsessively coils his tongue around yours and grips your ass, silently encouraging you to rock into his hand. You kept your palm right on his crotch, rubbing at the bump hidden under the denim, your other hand grasping at the crown of his head as you bite his lips.

You didn’t care much about doing this in the living room, or really anywhere else where you might encounter wandering eyes. So long as you get your daily fix of Pope, all is right with the world.

There’s a heavy silence as Jack restarts the engine and pulls away from the curb. There’s none of your usual teary venting or frustrated ranting, and Jack’s not sure what to make of that.

“You hear that your mall’s getting an Urban Outfitters?” Jack cringes as soon as the question leaves his lips— he’s sure you want some peace and quiet, but he can’t help it. He’s never been good at quiet.

“Oh, yeah!” You chirp, turning away from the window and meeting his eye with a wide grin. Jack eyes you with surprise. “It’s opening next month.” Your brows furrow. “How do you know about it?”

Jack doesn’t respond for a moment. You’re awfully cheery for a girl who just got into a shouting match that ended in tears and an SOS call.

“It was, uh, those clothes I ordered for ya,” Jack says after a while. “Think it signed me up for a newsletter or something. I keep getting fuckin’ emails.”

When that makes you laugh, pride washes away his uncertainty.

You both chat for the rest of the short ride, and Jack figures he’s giving you exactly what you need. A laugh, a distraction, a reason to get out of the house for a bit.

Soon Jack’s pulling into his driveway. He helps you inside, where you make a beeline for the couch, grab the remote, and settle in right away. Jack chuckles.

“Don’t be shy, make yourself at home.”

You grin at him. “Thanks.”

Jack sits next to you. You curl right into his side when he lifts his arm.

He waits as long as he can stand to— which, as it turns out, is about an hour’s worth of New Girl episodes— before he brings it up again. “You ready to lay it on me now, hon?”

Your demeanor shifts immediately. You stiffen and your expression sours, and Jack can practically feel the effort it takes not to roll your eyes.

“Not really.”

“You can’t ignore it forever, y’know.“

“Duh.”

Jack squints at you. Before he can decide how to respond, he feels you move against him, and next thing he knows you’re crawling into his lap to straddle him. Jack’s hands find your hips without second thought.

“Pumpkin—“

You lean down to kiss him, sweet and needy. 

Jack groans into your mouth. Despite his efforts, his dick is hardening in his pants right away. The effect you have on him is frankly unfair. If he were about 20 years younger it’d be completely overwhelming— and even now it takes him a few long, torturous moments to get himself together and remember he’s supposed to be an adult here. He pulls away.

“I know Mike isn’t always easy to talk to–”

“I’ll talk to him.” You brush off Jack’s worry, trying to lean down to connect your lips again. He leans away.

“Really? Cause you won’t even talk to me–”

You manage to catch him in a kiss. This time your tongue slides inside his mouth right away, and your teeth teasingly nip his lower lip.

Jack groans again. His fingers thrum, kneading the soft flesh of your hips as he tries to contain himself. His resolve is wavering. This may be a fuck now, talk later situation. Yeah. Jack can justify that. 

“You just need some TLC to be a good girl and sort this out in the morning?” He murmurs, reaching out to cup your jaw and thumb over your lip. You grin.

“Yes, Mr. Abbot.”

There’s something about it that makes Jack suspicious. It’s like you’re trying too hard to sound sweet. He gets the feeling that you’re playing him, but after eyeing you for a moment and feeling you grind down on his bulge, he decides to take you at your word. He pulls you back in for a kiss.

You end up riding him right there on the couch. Then you move to the bedroom, where he settles between your spread legs and eats you out like you’re his last meal.

Two hours later he’s settled against the headboard, reading glasses on while he scrolls on his phone. You’re on your stomach at the foot of the bed, wearing a t-shirt and underwear, legs kicking idly as you read some old chapter book you found on his shelves. He looks at you.

“What’re you gonna say to Mike tomorrow, doll?” He asks, tone light and conversational.

Nothing. You don’t even spare him a glance. You flip the page.

“Hey. Kiddo.” Jack says, a bit more firm.

“Hm?” You still don’t look up.

“What are you gonna say to Mike tomorrow?”

You shrug. You flip the page again, and Jack knows there’s no way you’re actually reading that fast. He sighs.

“Can you please close the book and look at me?” Jack waits a few long moments. Gives you some time to make the right choice. You don’t. “I don’t wanna ask you again.”

“Jesus christ, you sound like Robby.”

“Yeah? Good. He’s a decent guy.”

You scoff.

“You disagree?”

Your jaw twinges. “Maybe I do.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happ—“

“God,” You gripe, finally looking at him to shoot him a nasty glare. “Can’t we just fuck without the therapy session?”

Jack stares at you, steely. Trying to keep his frustration in check. His voice comes out low but steady. “That’s not how this goes, pumpkin.”

You chuckle blithely. “You seemed fine with that arrangement when I was riding your dick.”

“You agreed to talk to him.” Jack grits out. He takes off his glasses and puts them on the nightstand along with his phone. “Y’know what? The more you refuse to tell me what happened the more I think you were just acting out.”

You scowl at him then look away, back to your book. He can see you chewing the inside of your cheek. He knows he has you pegged.

“Is that it? Gave Mike a little too much attitude, so you decided to call me up knowing that I’d treat you nice?”

No response.

“Guess I oughta text him and get his side of the story—“

“Would you just fuck off—“

Jack’s in motion before you can even finish your thought. He gets close enough to grab you under your arms and start wrenching you over his lap.

“Hey! Let go of me—“

“I tried doing things the nice way, pumpkin.” Jack intones. His voice is calm and collected, but his anger comes through in the harsh way he grips your waist and legs to keep you still. “I was happy to talk things through like adults–”

“This is such bullshit— ow!” Jack shuts you up with a sharp smack on your ass over your panties.

“--but I don’t appreciate being taken advantage of.” He continues lecturing, as if you’d never even spoken at all. “You call me up, you have me bring you to my house and dote on you all damn night under the impression that you and your daddy had an actual argument.”

“I didn’t–” another smack.

“Come to find out you were just being a brat from the start.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” You insist, voice high and whiny and laced with guilt. Now he’s getting somewhere.

“No?” Jack spanks you again, and this time you yelp at the contact to your already stinging skin. Then you squirm when he roughly gropes the area right after. “How’d you mean it, babydoll. Enlighten me.”

“I really did wanna see you.” You whimper. “That’s why I called. It wasn’t some big trick.”

“Aw, well aren’t you sweet?” Jack coos, more condescending than usual. It makes embarrassed tears well in your eyes. 

“I swear, Mr. Abbot.” You plead. You gasp when Jack spanks you again, lurching forward in his lap. “I was really mad, and I wanted to see you, I just didn’t wanna talk about what happened–”

“Because you know you were in the wrong.” Jack finishes for you. Your mouth clamps shut in a thin line. He raises a brow and lands another blow. “Say it, sweetheart. Just admit it.”

Your head falls to the mattress limply. “Mr. Abbot,” your whine comes out muffled. You practically sob when he spanks you again. 

“You know I don’t like doing this, babydoll. Just be honest with me and we’ll stop.”

Jack waits a couple beats. You shift in his lap slightly, but don’t say a word. He spanks you again, the hardest one yet. You yelp.

“Ok!” You turn your head to the side. He sees shiny moisture around your eyes, a fresh tear rolling down your cheek. “It was my fault. N’ there wasn’t an actual argument, I was just being a brat.”

“Attagirl.” Jack coos. He rubs his warm hand in a circle on your warm asscheek, soothing the inflamed skin. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” 

Your head falls into the mattress again with a watery groan. “Yes it was.”

Jack chuckles. “Alright, correction: it doesn’t have to be so hard.” He grips your waist and guides you to sit up. You lean against his chest and he cups your wet face as more shameful tears spill from your eyes. “Take it easy, baby, it’s done. You’re alright.”

“Stop being so nice,” You warble. Jack raises a brow. 

“You sure? Cause I can start spanking you again–”

You whine and shake your head against his clavicle, making him laugh.

“That’s what I thought.” He rubs soothing circles on your back. “You really do need a firm hand sometimes, huh? Guess your daddy’s been right all along.”

You huff.