#luckylucianodildo

[chungledown-bimothy]

hiya, hope you're doing well 😊 do you have any d20 blogs you would recommend?

hi! i hope you are too!

ooh yep i do. i could go on about the lovely people in this fandom forever, but, for numerical parallel reasons, the first 20 that come to mind (many of these aren't strictly d20 blogs, but all are people in the fandom i think are great and you should follow):

@clintonhillchantry @hi-intrepid-heroes @say-hi-intrepid-heroes @stonecoldsilly @just-fic-me-up @i-want-by-one-direction @luckylucianodildo @the-butter-churner @pondering-zvoon @jangofuckingfett @pleiabees @dabidagoose @delloso-de-la-rue @justjunipersage @operationslipperypuppet @zellion-refrigerator @collidedscope @hannahhasafact @counterspelling @juicebox42

(other d20 moots i didn't tag ilysm i promise <3)

[actualbabe]

Gay asks-

Prompt

Sharing a towel....... And shower.....

(mild nsfw below the cut)

Schmidt is already in the shower when Nick walks into the bathroom, because Nick spent the last fifteen minutes trying to hype himself up for this and not to do his usual guilt/shame spiral over the fact that seeing Schmidt walk past his open bedroom door in only that ridiculous kimono of his did indeed turn him on, despite all sense of reason and cultural respectfulness. Nick lets the door swing shut and sets his jaw resolutely as he approaches the sink. The sound of Schmidt’s off-key whistling echoes off the tile walls, spilling over the shower curtain with the steam from the hot water. He rests his slightly-shaky hands on the cool porcelain and draws in a steadying breath.  

“Hey, it’s Nick,” he finally says, putting in a little bit too much effort to make sure none of his lingering hesitancy or uneasiness bleeds into his words. “Mind if I, uh, join?”

Schmidt’s whistle comes to an abrupt stop, leaving a deafening silence filled only by the patter of water hitting the shower floor and the distant thundering of Nick’s erratic pulse. Shit, he knew this was a fucking mistake. Every instinct he had told him so. But no, he had to make a fool of himself and now-

“Sure.” Schmidt’s voice rings out with an air of indifference that comes across as just a touch too unnatural to be completely genuine.

Nick takes another inhale as he looks at his reflection in the slowly fogging mirror, and he nods resolutely before moving his hands to the knot of his bathrobe. Before he has a chance to overthink it, he tosses the robe aside on the bench and slips past the shower curtain, taking care to close it tightly shut behind him on the off chance that Jess or Winston may happen to stumble in on them and start drawing their own conclusions or asking questions Nick doesn’t want to answer. They both know at this point, either because Nick got drunk and blabbed about it or because they walked in on him and Schmidt seconds away from jerking each other off on the couch, respectively. 

(Which reminds him, he still owes Winston that apology pizza...) 

When Nick finally turns away from the thick, plastic shower curtain, he’s faced with a thoroughly wet Schmidt, water streaming over his shoulders and dripping down his torso. Nick finds his eyes inadvertently drawn to the trail of water that runs down past Schmidt’s collarbone all the way to his self-proclaimed-chiseled hips, one of which is cocked as if Schmidt’s trying to pose for him, like that one famous statue of the guy with the tiny dick. Once he realizes how much his gaze has drifted, Nick forces his eyes back to the relative safety of Schmidt’s face.

“Hey there,” Schmidt says, his grin nothing short of shit-eating. His gaze travels over Nick with far more purpose and a clear interest that he doesn’t even remotely try to hide. The tip of his tongue swipes out over his lower lip, and it tugs at something in the pit of Nick’s stomach that makes him feel dizzy, like a fish caught on a line and being yanked up to the surface. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m running late,” Nick offers as explanation, feeling uncomfortably exposed as he stands there in the corner of the shower cubicle, out of reach of both the hot water and Schmidt’s equally-naked body. He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but he does know that he’s close to shivering and increasingly tempted to take a step forward into the line of fire. Metaphorically speaking.

Schmidt hums skeptically. “For what?”

Nick frowns. Admittedly, he’d been so focused on his it’s-okay-to-be-gay self-affirming pep talk that he hadn’t thought this far ahead. "For a... Thing.”

“Suuure,” Schmidt agrees, dragging out the word as if to say “I know you’re lying and I’m giving you shit about it but I’m too lazy to come up with an actual burn and also don’t want to shoot my chances of getting laid in the immediate future in the foot by directly making fun of you.”

“Look, just shove over, will ya?” Nick says, ducking his head to hide the heat he feels rising to his face. “I’m freezing over here.”

Schmidt snorts. “Fine, fine. Just let me get my activated charcoal conditioner first.”

Nick’s responding eye-roll is nearly automatic. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“You love it,” he counters with a wink and a look that makes Nick’s throat go dry and leaves unable to form a snappy comeback of his own. Schmidt just gives him a knowing grin before turning around to dig around in his overfilled showercaddy of overpriced and overcomplicated products. 

Once Schmidt’s back is turned, some part of the knot in Nick's chest marginally loosens and he manages to relax ever so slightly. For whatever reason, there’s some part of him that finds it easier to do this when he isn’t facing it head-on. It’s not that he’s in denial, because he’s not, at least not anymore. He knows how he feels about Schmidt, has put words to the feeling he gets in his chest when he thinks about Schmidt and how he never wants to be without him, even when they’re both old and decrepit and Nick spends all his free time sitting on the porch with Winston and yelling at the neighborhood kids. He's even gone so far as to tell Schmidt that he's in love with him, and felt the cataclysmic joy of hearing the same sentiment echoed back at him. 

But he's still got his hangups, good old Catholic guilt hanging over his head like a crown of thorns and threatening to choke him out with his own feelings of alienation and latent sense of foreboding wrongness of his desire. Add in his overarching Walt issues: the ingrained ideas of what it means to be a man and not some pansy, the expectation that he'll grow up and be some smooth-talking macho guy who drinks whiskey and plays blackjack and leaves a string of brokenhearted women behind him. Then sprinkle in the fact that he's never done this before, not like this. The unfamiliarity makes him nervous and terrified, leaves him with trembling and uncertain hands as he trips over his words, grappling with the realities of who he is and who he's supposed to be, what he wants and the way his entire body fucking sings at Schmidt's touch, the way even a slightest brush of a man's hand on the back of his own could set him on edge with desire so thick he could barely swallow around it, the way it never did with Caroline or any girl before her.

Nick watches as Schmidt stands up again, the muscles in his back shifting as he straightens. The whole thing is oddly mesmerizing and Nick watches as Schmidt rubs his hands together with a lewd wet noise that he thinks is only semi-intentional before combing his fingers through his hair to work in the needlessly complicated hair product. The various defined muscles of his back and arms push and pull with the effort, and Nick dimly wonders if Schmidt is showing off on purpose, but finds that he doesn't really mind. A moment later his arms fall back down to his sides, quickly rinsing his hands under the spray while he lets the goop in his hair settle. 

The dark freckles on Schmidt's skin stand out like inversed constellations, and Nick's hand stretches out almost of its own volition to brush his fingers over the one on the corner of Schmidt's shoulder blade. Schmidt tenses slightly, surprised by the touch, before relaxing a moment later, holding himself still like he's trying not to scare Nick away with any sudden movements. Nick takes a step closer to him, slightly closing the gap so he doesn't have to strain his arm so much as he draws a line over the sharp edge of Schmidt's shoulder. He continues the path up to the birthmark at the nape of Schmidt's neck before traveling down the curve of his back, his knuckles cataloging each notch of his spine. 

Once he reaches the end, Nick has drifted even closer, his face only a few inches away from Schmidt's neck. He can smell the scent of his soap, something fresh and unmistakably masculine, and Nick leans forward the extra inch to brush the tip of his nose against the soft, water-slick skin. Schmidt shivers slightly, and Nick feels it against his hand as he rests it at the small of his back. 

Slowly, achingly slowly, Schmidt turns his shoulder to face him, and Nick's hand slips around his waist to rest just above his hip. 

"Yeah?" Schmidt asks, lower lip red like he'd been chewing on it the whole time. 

Nick doesn't want to put words to it, afraid he'll shatter the moment. So he just nods and then, before he has the chance to lose his courage, slowly sinks down to his knees. They ache almost two seconds after he finally makes it to the ground, and Nick's dimly aware that there's going to be red marks from the tile left over after he's done with this, but the thought disappears almost immediately when he feels Schmidt's fingers brush over his forehead, sweeping away the damp hair that's slowly dripping water into his eyes. 

With his hands braced on either side of Schmidt’s hips, Nick stares very carefully at the dip of Schmidt's navel, framed by the rough edges of his own thumbnails. Nick takes in a steadying breath, his eyes falling closed as he tries not to get overwhelmed by thinking too hard about this and setting off yet another internal crisis. 

There's a sudden and unexpected caress of fingers over his temple, and then Schmidt's hands are cupping either side of his face, thumbs stroking the lines of his cheekbones. Nick blinks his eyes open to look up at him, and the sheer fucking reverence in the man's eyes knocks the fucking wind right out of him. 

Nick often feels like he doesn't deserve the love that Schmidt so willingly gives him. He knows that he can't be the man that Schmidt deserves. He has a hard time with intimacy and feelings and words and no matter what he does he feels like it's never really enough. He doesn't think that deserves the pedestal Schmidt puts him on, doesn't deserve the way Schmidt gives and gives and gives while Nick takes every scrap he's offered, greedily storing them all in his chest where no one can steal it from him.

His heart thumps in his chest, once, twice, three times. Then without any other word of warning, Nick leans forward to take Schmidt’s dick into his mouth, closing his eyes to savor the groan he makes in response, fingertips curling around the corner of Nick's opened jaw. Schmidt leans back slightly, shoulders hitting the tiled wall of the shower. A spray of water splashes over Nick's forehead, and he presses forward, letting it cascade down his shoulders as he swallows down Schmidt's dick.

It doesn't take very long for Schmidt to finish, one hand clutching at Nick's shoulder in warning and the other buried deep in his hair. He hauls Nick up to his feet afterwards, and it only takes two strokes and his signature wrist flick for Nick to come in Schmidt's hand with a shudder, head tucked into the curve of his shoulder, swollen lips pressed to Schmidt's collarbone.

Afterwards, Nick complains about the soreness in his knees as he lets Schmidt wash his hair, which feels strangely more intimate than having the man's dick in his mouth. Schmidt teases him for having an old man's body, to which Nick threatens to revoke his blowjob privileges, which shuts him up fairly quickly. He gargles a bit of shower water to try and wash away the jizz taste lingering in his mouth, and then lets Schmidt pull him into a kiss shortly after he spits it down the drain. The overthinking part of his brain is still mostly shut off in post-sex mode, so it's easier to lose himself to the push and pull of Schmidt's mouth against his, to not get overwhelmed by the still-unfamiliar scratch of stubble against his own, the solidness of Schmidt's chest, the slim taper of his waist and lack of softness at his hips.

They linger in the shower until the water goes cold, after which Nick reluctantly shuts off the spray. Schmidt gets out first, leaning precariously around the shower curtain to snatch his towel up off the hook.

"Hand me mine too, while you're at it," Nick says, wiping his hands over his face and shaking out the water from his hair. "The blue one."

Schmidt abruptly snaps back to look at him, face oddly confused. "The blue one?"

"Yeah?" Nick's brow furrows. "What, did you forget your colors or something?"

"The blue one is my towel," Schmidt says with a surprising intense conviction. "Yours is the red one."

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but I use that towel," he points to the piece of fabric in Schmidt's hands, "every goddamn day."

Schmidt's nose wrinkles in mild disgust. "You wash it though, right?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna wash a towel." Nick parrots back with a laugh. "The towel washes me, you idiot."

"You don't-" Schmidt gags, looking about an inch away from vomiting directly at Nick's feet.

"I come out of the shower, I'm as clean as a damn baby," Nick insists, suddenly incredulous. "What, you can have a post-blowjob kiss but you can't fathom the idea of sharing a damn towel?"

"That's different!" Schmidt splutters.

"Can you guys hurry up in there?" Jess' voice suddenly interrupts, echoing off the walls and accompanied by the squeal of the bathroom door hinges. "Some of us have hair to wash, farmer's markets to attend..."

Nick rolls his eyes, snatching the towel out of Schmidt's hands, purposefully rubbing it over his junk just to make Schmidt gag again, and laughing at the look of despair and betrayal on his face. 

"You know sometimes I can't believe I love you," Schmidt huffs petulantly as Nick steps out of the shower, still chuckling to himself.

Nick chucks the red towel in his face.

[hookechoes]

A gymnastics and falsettos person????? Why are we not best friends?

WE ARE NOW 😍

[msjessicaday]

you wake up to good morning texts. i wake up to tumblr notifications from @luckylucianodildo. we are not the same

[vaultscoring]

tagged by @linoy-ashram and @melniikova

last four albums i listened to in reverse chrono order

💇🏻‍♀️ ava max - heaven and hell (2020)

👧🏼 farrah abraham - my teenage dream ended (2012) (lol)

👁️ kiesza - crave (2020)

🎗 the chicks - gaslighter (2020)

tagging @anna-pavlova @luckylucianodildo @lontra-ohiensis @aurelia-dobre!

[actualbabe]

Also Yee Haw

nick/schmidt in the ol’ wild west - just like them cowboys...

"Why don't you hate me?"

Schmidt just sits there, silent. The firelight casts strange shadows on his face, highlights the dark bruises under his eyes and the tight line of his mouth beneath his freshly-set nose.

"C'mon, Schmidt," Nick says it almost like a joke, spits the words out with a bitter half-laugh as he tries to goad Schmidt into a fight. "I'm an asshole. I'm angry and I yell and snap at people when they haven't done anything wrong. I've been nothing but horrible to you. You should hate me."

Nothing. 

"I want you to." Nick glares at him, channeling the hurt and rage that's been brewing in his chest for as long as he can remember, since he realized that there wasn't nobody in this world who would ever give him anything besides disappointment. "I want you to hate me."

"I can't," Schmidt says, sounding like he's holding back a sob.

And god, if that ain't the crux of it.

[actualbabe]

Ummmmmmm Alyssa Secret Santa?! There's more?

listen... i know it’s late... i don’t need any more judgement...

tldr; Carol (2015) but make it jeagan

A few minutes after noon Reagan shows up to the loft in her up in her really, really nice car. Jess freezes up when she sees it, standing star-struck on the pavement while she processes what’s right in front of her and how it’s leagues better than her own janky ride with its airbrushed paint job. Reagan brushes off Jess’ compliments as she settles into the driver’s seat, sliding on a pair of sunglasses as she routinely turns the key in the ignition.

“It was a company bonus,” she explains, as if it’s a totally normal thing. 

“What did you do, sell an airplane hanger full of pills?” Jess says in disbelief. “My holiday bonus was a formerly-confiscated pack of Silly Bandz. Silly Bandz. In 2016.” 

Reagan laughs, bright and vibrant in a way that rattles around the inside of the car before getting caught up in Jess’ chest. Then Reagan casually runs her hand through her hair, ruffling it up as she speeds off down the street.

—

They go out to lunch at this cute little bistro on the other side of the city that Jess has never been to before, mostly because it’s a little ridiculous what they charge for half a cup of soup. She gnaws on her lower lip and tries not to think about how much is in her bank account and that rent is due next week. Vice Principals make half-decent money. She can handle a fourty-plus dollar lunch. No biggie. She’s just upset by the principle of the thing.

“Get whatever you want,” Reagan insists as she persues her own menu. “My treat.”

“Oh.” Jess looks up at her in surprise. “You don’t have to-”

“Relax.” She smiles at her conspiratorially. “I’ll just call it a business expense. I’m ‘building a relationship’ with a ‘potential client.’”

Jess laughs, only a touch nervous. “Well, if you’re sure...”

“Of course.” Reagan gives her a wink and the way it twists up Jess’ stomach is actually kinda ridiculous. 

—

They drive by a Christmas tree farm on the way back to the loft. Jess stares wistfully out the window at the jolly line of trees, missing the brisk winter weather she had growing up in Portland. It barely feels like winter in LA sometimes, even though Christmas is just around the corner. Not that the weather has stopped her from entering her usual Christmas frenzy. 

“You know,” Reagan says casually. “I’ve never actually had a real tree.”

“You haven’t?”

“My dad and I didn’t really do the whole Christmas thing.” Reagan idly taps her thumbs on the steering wheel.

“My family would get one every year. We’d make a whole day of going out to find the best one, and then after we’d get home and my dad would try to untangle the lights while my mom made hot chocolate and my sister and I made strings of popcorn and cranberries.” Jess smiles at the memory. “It was the one time of year where my parents actually got along and my sister didn’t try to cause trouble.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“Yeah. We kept going even after my parents divorced, but the tradition ended once I moved out for college.” Jess’ smile falters. “I haven’t had a real tree since. I tried to get the guys in on it one year, but they didn’t want to deal with the hassle, especially since almost all of us go home for the holidays anyways.”

Reagan looks at her for a moment, her eyes soft. Then she puts on her blinker and turns into the lot.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re gonna get you a tree.”

[actualbabe]

1-100 let the roast commence

here’s some of my worst offenders:

13. Pumped Up Kicks (Cover) by KK Slider

14. stupid horse by 100 gecs

24. Proud Mary (Cover) by VeggieTales (Bob and Larry Sing the 70s)

26. Man or Muppet by Jason Segel, Walter

32. Nobody by Mitski

35. Short Dick Man - Club Mix by 20 Fingers

36. Does Your Mother Know From the Mamma Mia OST by Christine Baranski

38. Me and My Husband by Mitski

52. Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffett

68. Wouldn’t it be Nice by The Beach Boys

[actualbabe]

6 and 66 for your playlist

6. Jolene by Dolly Parton (fuckin slaps and lesbian anthem)

66. Liability (Reprise) by Lorde (listen.... i can explain......)

[actualbabe]

72-75

72. Turn to Hate by Orville Peck (still slaps)

73. Savage Remix (feat. Beyonce) by Megan Thee Stallion (tbh i liked the original better but regardless i know the whole tiktok dance)

74. When Doves Cry by Prince (adhd/easily distracted during conversations anthem - “oh hey before i forget here’s the noise doves make when they cry!”)

75. The Louvre by Lorde (OKAY LISTEN...)

[actualbabe]

i struggled soooo much with the movie version because i have zero (0) attention span BUT television my beloved... there's definitely things i'm missing but i think this summarizes shows that were/are Integral to the Way that i Am

tagging @grasslandgirl and @luckylucianodildo

[msjessicaday]

hi all i have to say is i love you and thank you for making another year a little more bearable. i am simply obsessed with each and every one of u

@actualbabe | @agingintomypersonality | @alciavikkander | @andyhozierbyrne | @annieaceofhearts | @benjiwyatt | @bidoctor | @cool-nick-miller | @delicatefalice | @dollsome-does-tumblr | @ermintrude-fanshaw | @forbescaroline | @gilmoregeller | @inejghafta | @izzyllewis | @jakesjohnson | @jester-lavorre | @jonahsimms | @julesblackthorns | @ksica | @luckylucianodildo | @mariodaymiller | @maziekeen | @meliorn | @mickymilkovich | @mrsgilmoredanes | @newgirlystuff | @omgcrazypenguinkid | @saraheliza | @simon-haynes | @stephensking | @timothyolyphant | @tree-gelbman | @trueloveistreacherous | @wardoh | @xroub | @youcantmakeme | @zooeydeschanel

[msjessicaday]

@luckylucianodildo 🥺 i love u alyssa

[actualbabe]

tagged by @mudhorns thank you king!! 😌

last song: Brand New City by Mitski and GOD if it doesn’t fuck me up every time: “if i gave up on being pretty i wouldn’t know how to be alive” *screams*

last movie: i rarely ever watch movies cause i have zero (0) attention span so this was like..... literal months ago but Gone Girl! i love a good #girlboss romcom also Evil Lady Interesting  

currently watching: i was trying to rewatch Killing Eve since i still haven’t seen the third season, but after finishing season 1 i almost didn’t want to continue because that narrative arc is so interesting and felt Complete (even though the season obvs ends on a cliffhanger) - idk i got a few eps into season 2 and haven’t picked it back up yet. i’ve also been debating if i want to give The Mandalorian a rewatch since i blew through it in like 3 days but it still feels a little too Fresh; and then there’s like ten seasons of Dimension 20 i still need to watch......... 

currently reading: tbh a lot of dinluke fic it’s a bit sad but i haven’t read a Real Book in sooo long - mostly because i like to multitask while working on my various craft projects and that’s easier to do while watching/listening to things instead. right now i’m restarting TAZ: Amnesty while working on a cross stitch sampler as a (really, really, really late) wedding gift for my friend! 

currently craving: a really good hug

tagging @grasslandgirl @luckylucianodildo @biharryjames and anyone else who would like to play!

[actualbabe]

i was tagged by @grasslandgirl to share a playlist of songs i've been listening to lately and who am i to deprive others of my terrible music taste

tagging @luckylucianodildo and @msjessicaday and whoever else wants to play along at home

[actualbabe]

i feel like this is my much cooler alter-ego but here you go @msjessicaday

if you'd like to make ur own click here

also tagging @luckylucianodildo for good measure :3