#300 challenge

[glows-n-the-dark]

I have 210 of my 300 list.

You may call it the 300 Challenge, 300 Wants, or 300 Dreams. I am happy to see that I have gotten this far. I'm not sure what else to add to it. I have taken some off as I have accomplished a few but would like to reach 300 before the end of the year.

Does anyone have any idea what I should add??? I wouldn't mind a few simple and in reach ideas if you got them? 🥰 Thanks!

[siruoa]

"Can you guess my favorite characters?💕~" --- Revisiting a 9 year old drawing trend, updated for my 2025 faves. Aka, Greed-core, sneaky ladies, and exiled aliens. old version under the cut.

[post]

and a black version/alt.

My rule for both was no more than 1 character per a series/franchise. Otherwise this would be half fma, and half hq.

[srnileforme]

#GarnierWaterGelxYinWar ★☆

[samhain-abyss]

I think l've been getting better with makeup but I still feel nervous about sharing pictures of myself so I want to make it interesting.

If this gets 300 notes before new years I'll post a selfie.

also tagging @subbygothkittytransgf for an assist

[newrochellechallenger2019]

MERRYYYYY congratssssss my love!!!! you deserve everything!!!🩷🩷🩷

strawberry wine, art donaldson, smut send ask 🙂‍↕️

HEY MEL <3 THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU !!!!!

sorry this took so long...only i could come up with a writing game and then immediately lose motivation after it's been posted...anyway...

wc: 1459

writing game here!

Roadtrips with Art look a little different these days. When he’d first got his license, the summer ‘roadtrips’ were to the local store or sometimes venturing down to the river for a swim. There’s only one thing that’s stayed the same all these years: the destination, his grandma’s house. The two of you had long since moved away, headed down to California to start married life, to start Art’s tennis career and to start your job in fashion design. So, it was late November, the tennis tour had ended for the year so the two of you were heading across states to spend Thanksgiving with Grandma Donaldson. You lost track of the days pretty quickly, time now measured in kilometres travelled or how many of your favourite albums you could play before Art got sick of them, which he never did. He’d smile when one of his particular favourite songs came on and he’d sing along in his ridiculous voice and you’d collapse into giggles as he tells you that he’s ‘in love with every song’. 

Today had been a particularly long day of driving and you can’t really remember when you’d fallen asleep, your head resting on Art’s shoulder as he occasionally stole glances at your soft sleeping form, when the new Mercedes Art was steering turned into the knackered old Vauxhall you were dreaming about. It was only when you felt that familiar turn onto the dirt roads that you started to stir, opening one eye sleepily as Art deftly pulled into the parking spot outside the hotel. The hotel that the two of you had stayed in everytime you came down to visit as it was just a few towns over from home and whilst you could grind out a few more hours in the car and reach Grandma’s house exhausted and achy, you knew Art couldn’t pass up the chance to stay in the hotel you’d both lost your virginity in . For your 17th birthday, Art had booked a hotel stay for you both, he’d been so scared of his grandma finding out his plans that he’d chosen this place, the furthest he’d ever driven in the year since he’d got his license. Art had tried his best to make an effort, scattering rose petals across the bed which only led to you both cleaning them up in the early morning and he’d cum prematurely, too worked up to hold back. It was perfect. 

‘Baby?’ comes Art’s gentle whisper, his fingers brushing your shoulder and you stir, blinking rapidly, ‘We’re here.’ continues Art, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and you smile, getting out the car and looking up at the hotel, shrouded in darkness. It had certainly had a renovation since you’d last been but before you had time to dwell on the nostalgia of it all, Art came round to your side with the suitcases, you reached out for your own and he tutted. The two of you had done this dance before, Art was raised by his grandma, he was too much of a gentleman to let you lift a finger on these road trips, though it wasn’t for your lack of trying. Striding across the car park with the suitcases in tow, Art was already metres ahead of you and you mentally cursed yourself for letting him win again as you chased after him, laughing. You check in easily and take the elevator up to the room, leaning on Art and catching sight of your sleepy expression in the mirrored walls and wincing, trying to smooth out your hair whilst he just shakes his head at you. The doors open and Art’s already playing chase again, sprinting down the freshly carpeted corridor as you run after him, filling the space with your amusement. ‘Hey.’ says Art gleefully, pressing a kiss to your lips as he unlocks the door, the pride of a winner in his eyes, still your gentleman. 

You exhale in relief at the sight of the plush hotel duvet, the crisp hotel sheets and you flop onto the bed with a groan and Art can hardly stifle his snort. ‘Comfy sweetheart?’ he teases, palm hitting your shin playfully, ‘Mhm I’ve missed this bed.’ you mutter lazily, spreading your arms out across the white covers much to Art’s mirth as he kneels down and takes off your shoes, pressing a soft kisses to your ankle and then starting to kiss his way up your legs till he reaches your knees, catching your eye with a smirk, ‘How much have you missed this bed?’ He teases, calloused hands running up your thighs and you shiver, ‘Or did you just miss what it means?’ Art whispers, his fingers now brushing the edge of your dress and tugging at the hem. You flush red, despite your many years of dating and even more years of marriage, Art still manages to render you speechless when he flirts like this. ‘C’mon baby’ he drawls, his hometown accent starting to slip through as he pushes the dress up to reveal your panties, sucking a dark mark into the flesh right next to where you want him and you whimper needily. ‘Ah she speaks!’ he teases, a sly grin on his face, ‘Thought you’d fallen asleep on me’. You wrinkle your nose at him petulantly, ‘I could never doze off when you’re like this’ you grumble and he winks in that boyish way he always does, ‘Like this?’ Art whispers, fingers hooking into your panties and pulling them down to reveal your folds, clit twitching in anticipation as you bite back a moan. 

‘Mhm- please- Art.’ you rasped as his hands gripped your thighs, thumbs rubbing the flesh there in circular motions. The days of travelling and nights in crappy motels had left you both feeling pretty pent up sexually. You bucked your hips and he got the message, happy to oblige as he leant forward to be eye-level with your folds. Art licked a long stripe up your cunt and you shuddered, ‘Oh yeah…’ you whimper, eyes closed in pleasure and he beams in delight, his lips brushing over the sensitive nub just above your hole. Slowly, Art starts to suck at your clit, and you can no longer stifle your moans, his fingers digging so hard into your thighs to stabilize himself you’re sure there will be marks tomorrow. Art was a man possessed when he ate you out, a complete contrast to your gentlemanly husband, for he was now slurping at your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in days, playing with your juices. You cry out. ‘Art!’ as his tongue penetrates you and his laugh reverberates against your sensitive folds and you squirm. He pulls away briefly, looking at your flushed expression with a cheeky smile, his fingertips pulling apart your pussy lips to reveal your twitching hole, ‘So pretty’ he croons, spitting into your entrance before delving his tongue back in and you jolt, gasping and moaning. His tonguefucking is relentless and it’s not long before your legs start to shake as his nose is buried against your clit, tip of his tongue hitting your g-spot over and over till you’re seeing stars. ‘Baby-’ you let out a strangled whine, less of a warning than anything else, before your orgasm crashes over you and your juices are soaking the hotel sheets, no matter how much licking and sucking Art does of your leaking sensitive cunt. You let a string of curse words as you come down from the high, and he continues to feast on your cum before pulling away, licking his saturated lips and smiling as he tastes you. 

‘I could stare at you like this all day’ he murmurs softly, clambering on top of you, taking in your flushed features and blissed out expression, kissing you, still some of your juices on his lips and you whimper into his mouth as you break the kiss, ‘I love you’ you whisper in his ear and he blushes, the tips of his ears going red as he slides off you.‘I love you too darling but we should get some rest, still got one more day of driving before we reach Grandma’ he says awkwardly and you can see by his stiff walk to the bathroom that he came in his trousers just from eating you out and you press your lips together to fight a smile at how weirdly endearing that is. ‘I’m gonna- uh- take a shower baby, then you can, kay?’ his attempt at nonchalance is terrible and a giggle bursts out of you, ‘Sure darling’, you nod, splaying your body out over the bed, at peace because no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft.

[bigtreefest]

Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration!!

I can’t believe it, but I’ve hit 300 followers! Thank you so much for everyone who has helped me get here and all the encouragement and love you’ve shown me. You have no idea how much it means💗 *please excuse the terrible graphic that I made on my lunch break. I tried, I swear. 🥳🥳🥳🥳🤷🏻‍♀️

For the occasion, I’m hosting a writing event! I’d love for you, yes you! to join in the celebration!! I know what you’re thinking: ‘well Essie, how do I do that?’ Let me tell you!!

Gather up all the sweet, summer vibes you can muster, along with one or multiple of the prompts listed below, and write a fic! Prompts and rules below!

Prompts:

*feel free to adjust them accordingly to work better in your fic

- pick your favorite summer song and use it to inspire your fic (optional, and very much not necessary, but encouraged. I love the songs of summer)

Scenarios:

- a character gets a sunburn

- someone lost their bathing suit in the ocean/pool

- a popsicle dripping down someone’s skin

- sand. Sand everywhere.

- beach games got a little too rough

- reading and someone gets the book wet

- putting a flower behind their ear

- babe is a surfer

- watching a sunrise/sunset together

- a long drive together

- putting sunscreen on one another

- rain spoils your summer outdoor plans

- bonfire

- catching fireflies

Quotes:

- “it hurts when I _____” “then stop doing that”

- “I wore this purposely because I thought the tan line would drive you crazy.”

- “what do you mean you didn’t pack snacks?”

- “here, you can share with me”

- “aw man, that was the last one”

- “I’ve got something else you can lick”

- “ew, gross. That’s not what I thought would happen today”

- “who thought a place with mosquitoes was a good idea?”

- “yeah. I know” “I didn’t mean I was hot in that way”

- “you know that one’s my favorite”

- “we’re not supposed to be in here” / “not here”

- “why’s it…sticky?”

Kinks:

- praise

- size

- daddy

- equal partnership? That’s my kink.

- breeding

- oooo! hand

- public sex/trying not to get caught

- overstimulation

Tropes:

- friends to lovers

- enemies to lovers

- hurt/comfort

- last summer together before going separate ways🥺

- vacation fling cut short by having to go home

Environments:

- beach

- pool

- lake house

- ice cream shop/stand

- inside in the ac

- a bar

- resort/hotel

- out on the water/ in a boat

Rules/How to Play:

- Character/love interest must be a CE babe/Bucky (no other Seb babes, however you may be able to make a case for boedecker or destroyer Chris)

- No deeply dark themes, including noncon, murder and death, toilet stuff, incest, or anything you think would be too intense for my poor heart. Dubcon, stepcest, and soft!dark are allowable if you just keep it light and find it necessary, but use your discretion please

- Posts should be at least 300 words, with no upper limit! Please us a ‘read more’ past 150

- fics should be stand-alone. If they are part of a series, they should be able to be read alone.

- tag me @bigtreefest and put the tags #essie’s summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration #summer lovin’ celebration and #essie’s 300 follower special so I can reblog you and add your fic to the Masterlist!!

- be inclusive and considerate!!

- make/write as many posts as you’d like!

- this will run from Sunday, July 13 to Wednesday, July 31, 2024. Late entries will be accepted through the end of summer.

- happy writing and thank you for celebrating with me!!

Tagging those who interacted with my post gauging interest, but all are welcome to join!!

@stargazingfangirl18 @krirebr @ronearoundblindly @witchywithwhiskey @thezombieprostitute @darsynia @jesevans @navybrat817 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @universitypenguin @gone-to-fight-the-fairies @delicatebarness @biteofcherry @dreamtinblackandwhite @levans44

[ddpej]

Playing with my food

[Image description: three pieces of Rice Chex cereal in a row, with an eighth note, a pine tree, and a lab flask with blue contents cross-stitched on them. Underneath is a shot of the three pieces flipped over, showing some black thread ends, some green and black thread ends, and no ends at all.]

I have been meaning to try stitching on Chex ever since I first saw that one letters-on-cereal image, years ago, and today when I went to have breakfast i decided to just.. do it. It's honestly pretty easy! (Happy to give tips if anyone wants them.)

The music note was my first attempt and the tree my second, because I haven't seen anyone do multiple colors and backstitch, though probably someone has before me. After doing those two I felt confident I could manage a no-show back, so I did one more with about as polished design as a single Chex piece can really have -- full crosses, half crosses, backstitch, and an underwoven glass-shine. The floss all came from my scrap pile, so no idea of the colors.

[fastboatsmojito]

Fall Decorating with one Scott Miller <3

This is silly and cheesy and probably self-indulgent and idgaf 🧎

dividers by @strangergraphics <3

He could smell the cinnamon-y, pumpkin air from the front porch; surely caused by one of the many warm scented candles he told you time and time again you had enough of, always walking you up to the sales counter with them anyway. He couldn’t complain now of course, walking in to find you happily setting up your pretty new pillows on the couch. Still humming along to the Halloween-town theme song as you walked up and threw your arms around his neck.

“Just couldn’t wait for me to get home, could you?” He said, a softness in his eyes that was reserved just for you as he kicked his shoes off and moved his hands to the small of your back reserved just for him.

“You took too long.” You pouted, feigning sadness through the real - though mostly dramatic, loneliness you felt whenever he wasn’t there even for just a moment. “Do you like it?” Your heels lifted off the ground as you reached up to give him a kiss, lingering warmth from your lips and the soft material of his your favorite sweater on his skin as he looked around.

“It’s… warm?” He wasn’t used to the ‘cozy’ of it all, still getting used to not coming home to a cold, empty house. The blankets, the soft lighting, the candles, the little notes you left for him in the lunches you decided to pack for him, it was all new and warm. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many blankets.”

“They’re soft! You can never have too many blankets.” You put a hand on his chest to teasingly push him as you said it, his hands on your back pulling you even closer into him.

“Alright, alright. It’s nice.” He reasoned. Too proud to tell you just how nice it was. Your grin up at him after he kissed your head telling him you knew anyway, exhaustion from work slowly creeping up on him as he walked you to the couch.

“I know.” You said matter-of-factly, crawling into his lap accompanied by one of said blankets, finally satisfied with your fall decorating when the grump below you was cozied up in it.

[phoenixcatch7]

Loz fandom stop being angsty and give the daydreaming kids on big fun adventures with a cool glowing sword some actual whimsy and joy challenge

[peapodsinspace]

THANK YALL FOR 300 FOLLOWERS :D

[Image ID in alt text]

This time i decided to make this- you can add in your oc / a character you like / yourself as the blank person !!!

Please @ me in the post you make if if you decide to participate!!!! :D

You can also use the green guy as a base :]

Transparent versions & the background is under the cut

[Image ID in alt text]

[samsrowena]

supernatural meme:

10 episodes

9 outfits

8 angels and demons

7 locations

6 relationships

5 quotes

4 hunters

3 big bads

2 eras

1 scene

[barkingbarghest]

Clair Obscur patch today (6/10/25), VERY nice stuff

Note 12:43 CEST - We are investigating Mouse Sensitivity issues following this patch. Stay tuned ! Ver 1.3.0 Patch Notes Simon Rematch -Players can now rematch Simon after defeating him! Story Mode Balancing. Story mode is our easiest difficulty setting. -Parry and dodge windows increased by 40% -Incoming damage reduced by 10% to 50% Challenge Modifiers (Act III onward) At flag checkpoints, players can now: -Limit max player damage to 99,999 or 999,999 -Multiply enemy HP by x2, x5, x10, x20, x50, or x100 Bug Fixes (297 total, notable examples below) -Verso now gains Perfection correctly when in reserve -Simoso weapon will no longer cause lag due to memory leaks -General polish across collisions, terrain, and scripting -Cutscenes scale properly on ultrawide and non-standard resolutions -Fixed a bug where loading a save after resting at a different location would spawn the player at coordinate zero -Placeholder textures removed near Chromatic Boucheclier and his battlearena -Fixed performance drops from repeated resting on certain levels -Crash after dialogue sequences resolved -Fixed stability issues after extended play sessions -French voiceover now plays correctly when selected System & Settings -Audio can now be muted or unmuted when the game is running in the background -Mouse and joystick sensitivity improvements -Manual save file renaming is now supported (EXPEDITION_XX format required. XX must be a value between 00 and 09.) Localization -Rolling credits updated (added creature VO, refined IOI section) -Font size adjustments for Chinese, Japanese, and Korean -New strings added and minor text corrections implemented

[alshaverpressbox]

they call him marcus "disaster" foligno minnesota wild @ edmonton oilers, 21 november 2024

(+ bonus dumbass celly action)

[newrochellechallenger2019]

2 / 2 / 1 please

ahh!!! hi saoirse thank you so much!!! stick season x patrick zweig x smut especially for you my love!!!

also i got so carried away writing this...please forgive my ramblings...

wc: 2873

writing game!

‘Welcome to Vermont!’ The sign seemed to taunt Patrick as he drove down the highway surrounded by thick forest, like this place had been anything but welcoming to him. His parents had decided to move here whilst he was at the MRTA because of the ‘potential’, like the millions they’d made in New York weren’t enough for them already. Patrick’s eyes were drawn back to the passenger seat, the crumpled ‘Zweig Christmas Gala!’ invitation staring back at him, not your soft features, your feet up on his dashboard even though he’d always tell you to sit normally and quit dirtying his car with that telltale smirk because he could never stay mad at you. He could already sense the smug looks on those aristocratic faces as his father retells the story of the ‘wasted money’ in sending Patrick to a tennis boarding school and how he had to ‘grovel at his father’s feet’ for a job in the company and how he had to be ‘put up in an apartment in Chicago for the foreseeable’. It’s enough to make him want to drive his beat up car into a ditch.

But he doesn’t, because he could never see things through, you’d’ve teased him for that. So, it wasn’t long before he was rounding the corner into his parent’s drive, parking besides stretch limousines and estate cars, his engine sputtering as he turned off the ignition, kicking his door open. The car boot creaked as he opened it, grabbing his suitcase, badges of the tennis tournaments he’d been to ironed all over it, a ribbon tied around the handle, a gift from you he couldn’t bear to get rid of, the constant aching reminder of the day you left. Rifling through his jacket pockets, Patrick’s fingers close around a joint, a calming presence as he holds it to his lips and lights it, taking a drag and watching the smoke fill the air, polluting these grounds the way he always does as he makes his way to the door. 

‘You can’t smoke in the house sir’ comes a frigid voice, Patrick looks over to see a man in a well ironed three piece suit standing by the door. 

‘It’s my house’ retorts Patrick, lips curled in a frown, barely through the door and he already had to deal with his mother’s bullshit. 

The man’s eyes widened in surprise, ‘Master Zweig? Why, we weren’t expecting your attendance-’

‘Yeah yeah’ Patrick mutters, pushing himself through the door, dragging his suitcase behind him. 

Before his thoughts could drift to the insane opulence of just the front entrance, Patrick’s mother swans into view, ‘Oh darling’ she crows, sweeping him into a perfumed hug, ‘I thought you’d given all that up years ago’ she frowns, prising the joint from between his teeth and putting it out before Patrick can protest as he watches his last bit of freedom sizzle away between her fingers. 

‘Jesus Christ mother, you’ve got servants now?’ The disdain in Patrick’s voice is evident as he takes in his mother, her wrinkles appear to have smoothed since he last saw her but he knows better than to mention it. 

‘We don’t call them servants! George is our doorman darling, he’s just there for security purposes.’ his mother croons in that patronizing tone that he remembered all too clearly from his younger years. 

‘Right.’ Patrick gives a noncommittal nod before heading upstairs with his suitcase, beady-eyed family portraits watching him as he climbs the grand staircase. 

You used to laugh at these portraits, especially when he'd poked fun at his Great-Great Uncle’s moustache, mimicked the pompous facial expression of his Great-Great-Great Grandma, he used to make you laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe sometimes. Now he can’t remember the last time someone even smiled at something he’d said, Patrick looks down at his feet, he can’t face their judgement, not today. He tosses his suitcase onto his bed and sighs, walking over to his bay window, where the two of you would sit and talk about what you wanted to do with your lives, where he’d told you he’d drive you to the airport that day you left, the day you didn’t take him with you. Just as he’s trying to force the memories from his head, rain starts to drizzle, coating the manicured gardens in a dewey darkness. 

‘You’re my forever’ you whispered as the two of you lay in the gardens, surrounded by bushes and red clovers, your own version of paradise. 

‘Forever?’ scoffed Patrick, ‘What does that even mean?’ he chides, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

‘Well you know…it means I’m not going anywhere’ you shrug, ‘and you’re not either’ you elbow him. 

‘I don’t plan on it’ Patrick nods mockingly and you sit up, moving to straddle him, eyes lit up with an intensity he rarely saw in you, ‘pinky swear we’re forever?’ you murmur as you look down at him, pinky held out like a sacred being. 

‘Pinky swear we’re forever.’ he repeats with matching seriousness, pinky interlocking yours and you smile, satisfied. ‘Good.’ before flopping down beside him again, watching a plane fly by miles above you both.

‘Forever’ Patrick grumbles under his breath as he watches the raindrops slide down the window, ‘What a bunch of bullshit’. He grits his teeth, eyes falling to the dent in his wall from the day you’d left, he wasn’t going to let that happen again. Opening his suitcase, he grabs his suit and pulls it on, looking in the mirror as he fastens his tie and tries and fails to sort out his unruly curls. 

‘Patrick!’ his mother’s shrill voice reverberates through the house. ‘I’m coming!’ he shouts back, muttering under his breath about her impatience as he spritzes cologne before strolling back downstairs towards the expansive dining room. 

‘There you are! I want you to meet some people!’ his mother swoops in all smiles while her eyes scold him for his tardiness, pushing him into the growing throngs of people, ‘This is Sandra and Bill.’ she gestures and Patrick’s stomach drops. Your parents are staring at him blankly. ‘Yeah…uh…nice to meet you both’ he manages, his throat dry as he shakes both their hands. 

‘Now Bill was just telling me about his daughter, I believe she’s about your age, did you two know each other?’ his mother continues and Patrick bites back a scoff, it was certainly more than that. ‘Yeah-’ he goes to say more but meets Sandra’s eyes, there’s not a flicker of recognition in them and his heart aches, ‘I- uh- sort of’ he finishes awkwardly. 

‘You see she never told us if she’d be coming tonight and we know it’s ever such a long flight from London and-’ Sandra starts, ‘I thought you might have her number, dear’ his mother finishes for her. ‘Could you give her a call? See if she’ll be here?’ she says with a tight lipped smile, this was not a question. 

‘Oh’ is all Patrick could muster, of course he still had your number. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d stared at your contact, his finger just barely hovering over the call button. His thoughts are interrupted by his mother pulling him close to her side, ‘Wonderful, thank you darling!’ she praises before disappearing off into the crowd. 

Patrick pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts before landing on yours. What was he doing? Of course you weren’t going to answer, he knew that for certain. Even if you were on your way here, why would you want to be somewhere he was? He didn’t need to do this, Bill, Sandra and his mother had long since walked off, out of sight- 

Ring…ring- ‘Shit!’ hissed Patrick, without thinking his finger had slipped and now he was dialling you. He stared in horror, panic slowly seeping through his veins before the number rang out, ‘You’ve now reached the voicemail of-’ his worries eased, hoping to feel relief but instead the ache in his heart only increases as he hangs up. Patrick tries to take a deep breath as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. He needs to get you out of his head and fast. 

Making his way over to one of the tables, he grabs a bottle of beer and chugs half of it immediately, his grip on the bottle so tight he’s shocked it doesn’t smash right there in his hand, bringing his pain to the surface. He’s grimacing as he finishes the bottle, grabbing another before his father is pulling him into yet another conversation. 

‘Tell them how much money I spent on that bloody tennis academy of yours’ snaps his father, gesturing to the two men standing before him, Patrick could tell by his bloodshot eyes his father had had one too many drinks already but he was not in the mood to pick a fight about it. 

‘$675,500’ Patrick replies numbly, the number drilled into his head ever since he’d graduated. 

‘Right! And what did you do with it?’ his father continues, growing more irate at each word. 

‘Lost’ mutters Patrick, looking down, suddenly feeling a lot like that little boy hiding from his father in his bedroom again. 

‘Right! You and that stupid blonde boy won one trophy and it was enough to make you think you could go pro!’ his father scoffs, turning to the two men for approval, ‘He’s crawling up to our door, telling us how awful the tour is, how he’s lost every match and how wrong he was and how he wants to work for me-’ his father is practically yelling, revelling in Patrick’s shame. 

Just when Patrick’s starting to think he can’t stomach much more of this, debating making an excuse, grabbing a tray of wines and hurrying out the door, he catches a glimpse of a young woman attempting to slip into the party unnoticed. Patrick’s heart stops when he realises it’s you, the one he’s been dreaming about ever since you left. Tentatively, he starts to walk away from his father’s complaints, away from the nodding businessman and closer to you. The gold dress you’re wearing clings to your body like it was made just for you and the lights adoring the room make your doe eyes twinkle like stars in the night sky. 

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he says dumbly, playing host at a gala he wishes he wasn’t at.

Your soft gaze turns to him and you brighten, like it hasn’t been years since you spoke. ‘I’d love one, Patrick, thank you.’ 

He turns and grabs a glass of wine off one of the passing waiters and hands it to you, ‘Here’. You smile gratefully and take a sip. ‘So…London?’ he broaches. 

‘Mmm’ you nod seriously, ‘It’s wonderful over there, they do the most divine teas and some of the views in Notting Hill are just-’ 

Patrick stopped listening after that, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way you gestured with your hands animatedly when you were excited about something, the way the dress exposes your collarbones and how easy it would be to just lean in and- 

‘I miss you’ he says calmly, so much for staying steadfast. He watches you intently, looking for any change in your facial expression and when he realises you’re not staring at him in shock and disgust, he continues. ‘I still think about you a lot, about us a lot.’ 

You blink, brow furrowing ever so slightly, ‘You do? I thought- I thought you were happy for me? You drove me to the airport that day-’ 

His hands move to cup your face and you don’t pull away, after all these years it still feels so familiar to the both of you. ‘It killed me to let you go but I couldn’t let anyone else drive you there, I needed that one last drive with you.’ 

‘You always did love driving me around’ you laugh, cheeks blushing red as the easy energy crackles around you both. 

‘Please’ Patrick utters, somehow distilling everything between you two into that one word. 

You down your wine and nod, ‘Fuck it, I missed you too’.

That’s all Patrick needs to hear before his hand is enclosing around your own and he’s dragging you out of the dining room and you’re sprinting down the hallway with little to no abandon and it’s almost like you never left. Patrick pulls you into the nearest bathroom breathlessly and lifts you up onto the counter besides the sink, your heels clanking against the marble as he drinks you in. 

‘How’d you get even prettier?’ he murmurs, hands running up and down your sides reverently. 

‘Maybe it’s the London air’ you shrug, looking down at him endearingly. 

‘Maybe…’ he murmurs, before he’s pulling you in for a kiss and it’s everything he could’ve dreamt of and more. 

Your lips are softer than he remembers but the feelings are  still there, the desire and hunger for each other as his tongue prods your bottom lips, asking for entrance. You oblige and his tongue collides with yours messily, fighting for dominance as the air in the bathroom grows stifling hot. Panting, you break apart, his hands gripping your hips like a vice, terrified to let go for fear he might lose you again. 

His eyes are pleading before he says the words, ‘I think we should…’ and you nod vigorously, already starting to hike up the skirt of your dress to your thighs. 

‘I agree’ is your murmured response, and he’s tugging at the belt of his suit, tossing it aside and unzipping his trousers, letting them pool around his ankles, his dick already prominent in his boxers. 

Patrick’s hands find your thighs, and he slowly starts to move his fingers towards your panties, rubbing carefully against the fabric and you squirm, he takes that as a signal to keep going, creating more friction until your hips are bucking against him and he smirks, pulling the fabric to the side and tracing his finger across your slit, feeling the wetness starting to collect there. 

You shudder as he slowly pushes one finger in, prepping you for his cock as he presses right to the hilt. He adds a second finger, scissoring them inside you and you gasp, ‘Patrick-’ as you feel his fingers stretching your gummy walls. ‘Ready?’ he whispers and you nod, craving his cock inside you. Pulling his fingers out, you whimper at the loss of stimulation but watch in awe as he licks his fingers clean of your slick, before pulling his boxers down and letting them pool around his ankles too. Patrick lines himself up with your entrance, hands gripping the counter as he slowly pushes into your cunt. 

Even two fingers can’t prepare you for the size of his cock and you’re choking on your own breath as he buries himself inside you. You moan as his tip hits your G-spot but his hand clamps over your mouth and your eyes widen. 

‘You gotta be quiet, sweetheart’ he mutters urgently. ‘My parents would kill me if they heard us’ 

You nod, your parents would too. Still, he keeps his hand over your mouth as he starts to thrust in and out of you, causing you to shiver in delight. Once Patrick sets his rhythm, he’s relentless, his hands clutching at your hips as he pushes in and out, in and out, in and out, your pussy squeezing tight around him so hard he’s struggling to stifle his own moans. It’s when his rhythm disappears that you know he’s about to cum, he starts to pant, going faster and faster till he’s practically pounding your pussy so hard you fear you’ll fall back and hit the mirror. 

‘I’m- I’m-’ he grunts before bottoming out in you one last time, you can feel his seed filling you and you gulp, thanking god for birth control. Patrick’s out of breath, head resting against your shoulder as you squeeze every last drop from him. He meets your eyes, a little dazed and it’s like he can tell without you even needing to say anything that you haven’t orgasmed because his hand is snaking back down between your thighs and rubbing your clit, giving you the last push you need, ‘Oh- Oh-’ you cry out, it’s too much, full of his cock, fingers on your clit and your legs start to shake, jolting as you cum, nearly seeing stars. 

‘Still with me?’ Patrick croons gently as he pulls out of you, watching your cunt spasm and drip with his seed and you nod, rubbing your face. 

‘Mhm’ you swallow thickly, sliding off the counter carefully and into his arms. 

‘That was-’ Patrick breathed, pulling his boxers and trousers back on, it was beyond words. 

You smile weakly as you go to use the toilet, ‘Yeah…it was’ you agree, still reeling from your orgasm. 

Patrick adjusts his tie in the mirror before calling out, ‘Will I see you back in there?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world’ you call back cheerfully and Patrick smiled to himself, by god was he glad to have you back in his life. 

[bigtreefest]

Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration Masterlist 🥳🥵😎🍉☀️🏝️

Prompt List and Rules

Thank you to everyone who participates in this challenge! Below is the list of all the fics that were written based off of the prompt list. I appreciate you all for celebrating 300 followers with me!! Much love!💗😘🥳🥳🥳

*warnings should be listed in each individual fic. Please read responsibly and use your discretion

Jake Jensen

Another bad date by @holylulusworld

temperature’s rising (it isn’t surprising) by @buckymorelikefuckme

Fireflies by @thezombieprostitute

Marshmallow Dream by bigtreefest

Such a bad day (with Ari Levinson) by @veltana

Steve Rogers

It’s That Steve - Espresso by @steviebbboi

Yield by @ronearoundblindly

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events Part 2 by @anika-ann

Drugged Delusion of Mrs. Rogers by mercurial-chuckles

Safety Captain by @ronearoundblindly

Last Summer by @nekoannie-chan

Curtis Everett

Drip… and Lick by @bigtreefest

Watermelon Suga’ by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Stucky

Date Day by @plussizefantasia

Summer Fling Don’t Mean a Thing by @foxgloveprincess

Blissful Summer Bruises by @mercurial-chuckles

Ransom Drysdale

Details by bigtreefest

Last Resort by @stargazingfangirl18

Ari Levinson

Let’s Blow This Popsicle Stand by steviebbboi

Dive Under by @biteofcherry

Such a bad day (with Jake Jensen) by veltana

Bucky Barnes

Momentary by @darsynia

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays by @buckets-and-trees

Confessions of Mr. Grumpaholic by @mercurial-chuckles