Stanford!art - Blog Posts

stanford!art x reader

some 18+ headcanons below, minors dni

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STANFORD!ART, who was your blind date during an event between your sorority and his frat—he hit it off with you. You guys talked the night away over dinner (he paid, ofc). The lightning paired with the ambience made you radiant. He swore he fell in love right there and then.

STANFORD!ART, who asked you out with flowers and that sweet, nervous smile of his. You said yes. How could you deny him?

STANFORD!ART, who insisted he walks with you to your classes even when his are across campus (he enjoys your company)

STANDORD!ART, who kisses you like it’s the first time all over again. He holds you like you’re the most precious thing ever. He’d devour you only with your explicit permission and even then…you can’t help but give in when he gives you those puppy eyes begging for you. What is the phrase? A man who yearns is a man who earns.

STANFORD!ART, who lets you stay in his room when the party goes into the early hours of the morning. His frat house is too far from the campus dorms. Staying in his room for a night is better than walking to your dorm half sober.

STANFORD!ART, who began to find your things in his room from your nights over: your lip liner, mascara, your notes for a GE class?? He doesn’t return them right away, instead he makes a small space on his shelf for your stuff. The next time you stay the night—boom! The makeup you’ve left behind is there and awaiting your use. You don’t have to leave early in the mornings, away from his arms, his warmth, his need for you. You can get ready in his room.

STANFORD!ART, who took written notes on your skincare products and takes photos of your makeup and bought a set to keep in his bathroom: minimize the time you have to travel to your dorm and once again you can sleep in and cuddle with him more.

STANFORD!ART, who memorizes what perfume you where on what days when he buries his face in your neck during sex. He fucking you into the bed, deep thrusts to pull those pretty moans from your lips. He gets the sweetest whiffs on your perfume as he mumbles sweet nothings into your neck. The Wednesday one is his favorite.

STANFORD!ART, who admires you (without fail) as you get ready. It starts with small questions of what does what like the different makeup brushes or what your skincare products does. He really is interested in what everything does! You have to trust him! He would NEVER use his curiosity as a chance to annoy or disrupt you. You tell him it’s an art, a routine, you enjoy: looking pretty for yourself and taking care of your skin.

STANFORD!ART, who noticed his skin breaking out after tennis practice. All that sweat and the fact he uses body wash to wash his face—He grumbled and tried the pop the not-ready-yet pimple and winced when it hurts. His eyes avert to your skincare products neatly arranged in the order you use them. He tried to remember what bottle was for what. He gave up and ended up using a small a mouth of each bottle, from left to right, he completed your skin care routine hoping the not-so-ready-yet pimple would go away.

STANFORD!ART, who asked about doing face masks one afternoon. He was laying in your arms after a tennis game against Pepperdine. The pimple hadn’t gone away unfortunately. You couldn’t say no and brought her some over the next day.

STANFORD!ART, who was teased about being pregnant by Patrick because his skin was glowing after all the spa days you and him had in his room. Art stole his churro as payback and made a comment about him wanting to take care of his skin.

STANFORD!ART, who suggested bathing together during a spa day. Bubbles, essential oiled, lush bombs, candles, alcohol—the whole package and…some wandering hands when you massaged his aching muscles, whispering how proud you are of him and how good he was doing at tennis. Art buried his head in your neck and groaned each time your hand moved just right. The bubbles clinging to your body. He places kisses to your skin. He loves those spa days in his shitty bathroom.

STANFORD!ART, who tried to teach you how to play tennis, or at least rally back and forth with him. You’re not the greatest compared to him, but he’s happy he’s getting to show you the thing he loves just as you did for him with your nightly routines.

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