I Need To Cuddle With Stanford Puppy Art SO BAD RN

ty for the tag!!! <3

@artdcnaldson @jesuistrestriste @girliism @charmvinyl @chlmtsdoll @faiszt @poppy-metal

rules ; select the first picture that comes up for the following categories: celebrity, shoes, bag, job, room + aesthetic.

✶ tag’d by @oncasette [ tysm for thinking of me ‹𝟹 ]

⊹ not sure these are me (minus #5 & #6) but this was fun!! these are also not in order bc imo they looked ugly like that.

tags ; no pressure ofc!! @sweetestdesire @puckinghischier @haven247 @joequinns @heartsforvin @cosmicanakin

you make art put on a skirt for the halloween party.

one that’s white and frilly and just barely covering him up; one that makes him compulsively pull down on the bottom of it to conceal himself everytime he has to talk to someone. fumbling with his red solo cup as he prays that whoever he’s in conversation with thinks it’s a joke.

and people do.

when you two walk through the front door of the house party, all of his fellow tennis players burst into laughter and rush up to him. they clap him on the back and tug on his pearl-covered corset. they put their hands all over his body, someone even manages to give him a playful slap on his ass. he feels like a piece of meat.

art’s dressed as an angel, while you’re dressed as the devil. fitting, he had thought when you helped him with his thigh-highs. he didn’t want to admit that you encouraging forcing him to dress so.. femininely.. made him feel hot under the collar. not to mention the grabby touches from his stanford tennis team buddies. it was all too much.

so the night goes on, and he sticks close to your side. one hand holding yours nearly 24/7 so he doesn’t lose you.

he gets more laughs here and there when new people arrive and see his costume. they, like everyone else, assume it’s some sort of gag he’s doing. or, at the very least, a humiliation ritual that you’re subjecting him to for some reason. art drinks cupful and cupful of the nasty, syrupy party punch to dull the weird warmth brewing in the pit of his stomach.

the party dies down and art is wasted.

like, completely gone.

while you’re in the middle of a heated debate with one of your friends about whether or not the guy she’s dating is worthy of approval, art presses his hips into the back of your body and mouths at your neck. it’s slow and a little sloppy, and then you realize you have to be on caretaker duty for the rest of the evening.

but then he kisses your jaw with more intention, his hips absentmindedly rolling against you from behind. you pull him away by his wrist before your friend has a chance to realize what he’s doing.

you drag him into the bathroom and shut the door, turning to look at him. he looks like a drunk college chick. costume slipping, tights somehow ripped, cheeks flushed, hair messed up in the most slutty way. and he’s managed to lose his halo headband somewhere.

he pushes you backwards to the toilet and you ungracefully fall back onto the toilet seat cover with a hard thump. you frown up at him and shake your head.

“art,” you hum, “babe, youre- god, when did you drink so much? i don’t even—“

he cuts you off by slowly climbing into your lap. his skirt rides up his thighs, milky skin being revealed as the fabric lifts. he whimpers.

“please..”

your hands instinctively come up to his waist, cupping it and playing with the dangling string holding together the back of his top. he shivers and blinks slowly.

“i.. i jus’ want you to touch me,” he breathes out, slurring the whole way, “please touch me..”

he takes one of your wrists and guides your hand up his skirt. you’re surprised when you feel how fucking hard he is inside the lacy panties you tucked his cock into before you both left for the night.

“im so fucking horny,” he gasps, “i don’t know.. dunno why ‘m so.. im leaking already, please-“

you grope him over the fabric and he keens, his chest falling forward to press against yours before he swallows thickly and his jaw goes slack. you feel him throbbing in your palm.

he turns his head so that his lips are right by your ear, and then one of his arms reaches around to wrap around your lower back. his blonde curls are starting to stick to his forehead.

“please… please jus’ play with me…”

he cums over your fingers after just ten strokes.

you make him walk home with you as the remnants of it drips down his thighs.

Boyfriend Art going to a boys night out and getting drunk and Patrick calling you to go get your boyfriend because he's been talking about you the whole time and talking about how much he is in love with you and all and when you go back home things lead to a hot makeout session while he's telling how much he's so lucky to be your boyfriend and how he is so obsessed with you

this is so cute omg.. i need bf art in my life so bad!!!

all you wanted was a chill night in, no parties, no loud neighbors, and no hangovers. when art said that patrick invited him to a frat party on the other side of campus, sitting at the foot of your bed with puppy dog eyes, you couldn't say no. but, you made him promise not to come back too drunk or too late. art agreed, letting patrick drag him to the party around 10.

it was almost 1 now, and you were cuddled up in your blankets binge watching your favorite show when you felt your phone vibrate from under the mountain of fuzzy fabric. patricks caller id flashed on the screen as you accepted the call.

"patrick? what's up, are you guys okay?"

"hey um.. art got pretty wasted tonight.. he got a hold of some pink whitney and you know how he gets so.."

you sigh, shaking your head, before you hear some rustling on the other end of the line.

"'s this her?" you hear a little hiccup from the voice you now recognize as arts. "'m sorry baby i didn't know it was g'nna get m' drunk.." another hiccup "feels like the room is spinning.." another rustle.

"yeah well.. you heard him.. can you come pick him up? ill send you our location"

you agree to drive over, pulling on one of arts old hoodies and driving over as quick as you can. pulling up at the frat house, you see a scattering of red solo cups on the lawn, along with some beer cans. you wait in your car for a minute before you see patrick helping art down the front steps, and you open your door when patrick helps strap art in. patrick pokes his head through the window, "again, sorry about this, he just kept asking for you.." patrick sighs, looking at art, whose gaze is fixed only on you. arts watery blue eyes look at you like you've hung the stars themselves, and it isn't even only because he's drunk, he looks at you that way always.

the drive home is quiet, with arts occasional hiccups disrupting the silence. art leans over when you're at a stoplight, the red lights illuminating his face, "'m really sorry.. i didn't wan' you to be angry at me" he says, pouting at you as you continue the drive home. you shake your head, "im not mad at you art, i just always want you to be safe okay? i don't want to have to worry about you so much.." art hangs his head and nods, falling quiet again.

by the time you arrive at your dorm, arts still hiccuping, stumbling over his own feet as you usher him into your room, not keen of waking anyone up at the early hour of the morning. art flops onto your bed, his head bouncing on your pillow, the movement causing a groan to erupt from his lips.

you root around in your drawers, trying to find an old pair of his boxers and a shirt. suddenly, you feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist, a head presses against your neck and you feel a sigh of warm air against you. "art.. go sit on the bed" you sigh, pulling some clothes out for him. art presses wet kisses along your shoulder, nuzzling his nose into your skin. "'m sorry.. please f'give me.. didn't mean to make you angry" he whines, squeezing your waist. you shake you head, turning around in his arms, "im not angry art.. please go sit down so you can change.." you sigh, breaking away from his arms and leading him to the bed. art sits on the edge of the bed, his alcohol-muddled brain causing him to stare off into space. you tap art's arms, silently asking him to raise them, pulling his stained shirt off of his body with ease.

you can't deny it.. any anger that was in your body when you drove art home is gone now, seeing his slightly messy hair and pale skin glowing in the moonlight only makes you want to take care of him more. once his shirt is off you hand him an older t-shirt he left at your place, watching him put it on before handing him some pajama pants. you get art situated in bed, walking to the kitchen and filling up a glass of water and walking back.

art looks up at you blearily, tucked into the corner of your bed and where it meets the wall. you slide into bed next to him, feeling his body slump into yours once again, his face smushed into your shoulder. his hiccups have gone now, just soft breaths against your skin. it's completely silent, until art takes a sharp breath in. "i- i don' think patrick told you but everyone at the party was so annoyed with me.. couldn't stop talking about you.." that catches your attention, making your heart thump in your chest. "i swear patrick wanted to kill me, i know he's just jealous though.." you can't help but fall for the bait, "whys he jealous?" you ask. art presses closer to you, his nose almost touching yours, "cuz you're perfect.. 'n sweet 'n amazing.." he presses a small peck on your lips for each word, a tipsy smile emerging on his face. his smile is infectious, and you can't help but kiss him back, smiling against his lips, "is that so?" you add. he huffs against you, letting you take the lead against his clumsy lips. you can still taste the sweet liquor on his lips, almost making you feel intoxicated yourself. art leans into you more, placing his hands on your knees and moving further. "'s true.. 'm fuckin' obsessed with you.." he groans out, now growing more confident in his movements.

you let the kiss grow more heated until you feel arts hands starting to creep under your shirt, and you pull away slowly, letting a string of drool connect you. art blinks at you, confused. "why'd you stop?" he practically pouts. "you're drunk art, you know i love you but you gotta sleep this off" you say, sweeping a thumb on his cheek. as if on cue, art yawns, only proving your point. he slumps into bed, pulling up a blanket from the foot of your bed. "fine.. but we continue this tomorrow, yeah?" he asks, one last request before falling asleep. "sure, sure art" you reply, running your fingers through his soft blond hair. you're sure art won't remember all of this in the morning, but you sure as hell won't let him forget it <3

my thoughts on Ethel Cain's "Perverts" as i listen to it:

Track 1: Perverts

such a haunting way to open an album, i think it took 3 seconds for me to get chills honestly. hearing "nearer my god to thee" in such a different way than i usually do was so disturbing. the longer the song went (12 min), the more comfortable i felt sitting and listening to the droning sounds in the background. the last line, "it's happening again honey" is just such a great tie in to everything about the Ethel Cain lore.

Track 2: Punish

from the first time i heard this song (as a single), i was so glad to hear the piano that immediately took me back to "Preachers Daughter" and the vocals!! as much as i love instrumental tracks, it's always welcome to hear her voice. her voice is almost floating above the instrumentals and background noises (creaking?) and a contrast to the dark lyrics. the line "only god knows" is weirdly comforting to me, yet again reminding me of "Preachers Daughter" and of course the guitar when "they made me leave" is so amazing. the song is very angelic at the start, but a feel the frustration starting to build during the song, and like all her songs, it gives me chills.

Track 3: Housofpsychoticwomn

the clock (?) ticking immediately reminded me of my grandmother's house, spending the night there, sitting in silence except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. the repeated phrase of "i love you" yet again sends a chill down my spine, overlapped with words and phrases i can't quite make out. it feels like im asleep and hearing people talk around me, or in another room, just laying there and trying to pick up what they're saying. in another way, it sounds like the inside of my head, indescribable voices having conversations while i try to comfort myself. there is almost a death rattle sounds that is intertwined with groaning singing or wailing. around the 10 min mark, i definitely started getting overwhelmed with all the sounds, and it was uncomfortable, but i suppose that is what the song wanted to do. it was a relief when the sounds dropped out, but i was totally caught off guard by the "boom" i guess you could call it, i didn't expect it at all.

Track 4: Vacillator

the drums are very welcome, and a great base for the rest of the track. the vocals are (of course) amazing, they're gentle, soft and sweet. it sounds like a "classic" love song at first, but listening to the lyrics it is pretty sexual, which is not surprising to me, but it is surprising to hear such (is vulgar the word?) vocals in such a sweet sounding song, but it's one of my favorite things that artists do. i honestly would love to dance to this song at my wedding (if i found someone as freaky as me), even though the lyrics are a little explicit, the song is so gorgeous overall.

Track 5: Onanist

the vhs tape whirring is a sound i always love that songwriters use, and the quality of the instrumentals sounds straight out of an old game, like im exploring an abandoned building or town. the vocals are almost sirenlike, pulling you in and layered in such a beautiful way. this song definitely feels like im getting lured in by something/someone, the vocals mixed with the harsher instrumentals that mix into it later in the song aid this feeling. another time where everything drops out, and is replaced with low droning and muttered words, "it feels good". this feels like a signature Ethel Cain track to me, and so far, is one of my favorites on the album.

Track 6: Pulldrone

the spoken words at the start of this song almost feel like they're being pulled out of someone, or it's something they've memorized or recited many times. the gong or bell or whatever that was, sent a tingle down my spine and through my eardrum. "i am what i am but we are not the same" future tattoo alert!!! constant shivers and chills throughout this one, the spoken word and the droning grating sound only getting louder feels like it's actually inside of my body. the droning going pretty much until the end of the song reminds me of track 1, leaving me to sit in silence and listen to what sounds like grating droning violins? yet again, one that makes me uncomfortable but one that is undeniably Ethel Cain.

Track 7: Etienne

this song absolutely sounds like a soundtrack for an old open world game or something, like i can imagine sitting in front of the tv and playing a game while this track is playing from the broken speakers of the tv. the peaceful music continues throughout the entire song. at the end of the song, it feels like im laying down on the carpet of my old living room and listening to an old record, it makes me painfully nostalgic.

Track 8: Thatorchia

starting out with a loud echoing noise was not how i predicted this to start after the last track was so chill, but it still keeps the same retro sort of vhs feeling that was very present in the previous track. the echoing vocals really make you strain to hear them over the harsh instrumentals, but to me, that only makes them more beautiful. the guitar is one of my favorite constant sounds in Hayden's discography, so i felt like a bit of a fangirl when it came in at the end. this song makes me feel like im running away into the woods to join a coven of witches.

Track 9: Amber Waves (my fav)

such beautiful guitar, the starting spoken word goes great with the mood the song has, sort of somber, slow but peaceful. the vocals come in yet again and im instantly transported to heaven. the harmony with herself sounds so so good, "days go by, time on without me/ill be alright" is so powerful and i feel like ive felt this way before, especially in depressive episodes, there's a lot of sadness, but eventually there's peace in that sadness, and it's beautiful. of course i think of "amber waves of grain" but also amber waves of hair, when looking at the title and lyrics of the song. it's a love letter to the empty country with nothing but fields of grain, but maybe also a love letter to a person, someone in the past where you can hardly remember anything about them, like looking in a foggy mirror, but you remember how you feel about them no matter how much time goes by. the guitar is so beautiful im not ashamed to say that i started crying and had to wash off my mascara.

in no way am i a professional music analyst or whatever, just talking about my feelings on my first listen. of course they'll change and grow over time but i wanted to document my first thoughts of an album ive been looking forward to since i knew of its existence. @mothercain thank you for all that you do and all that you are, and proving that it really is happening to everybody.

i need to nurse him back to health STAT

The way I'm completely desperate to know absolutely EVERYTHING about how, when, and why, Art got injured in 2018.

Was it during a big match? Or practice? Was he simply distracted? Or angry? Had he just had an argument with Tashi, so he was unfocused and emotional? Or was it just a freak accident? He's got several scars all over his shoulder and elbow, so it must have been quite significant. He must have thought his career was over right then and there.

Seeing Tashi's reaction to this would have been so gratifying as well, like. She was totally having war flashbacks. PTSD fully triggered. Did she cry? Did she scream? Was she trying her best to remain calm, but failing spectacularly? Art is her life's work, her second body. She lost tennis once and it destroyed her. She couldn't possibly lose Art too, she couldn't lose tennis again.

And where was Patrick? We know he's a certified yearner, so. Was he perhaps in the audience, watching the match? Or was he watching it live on TV? Did he only learn about it while scrolling the Art Donaldson hashtag on Twitter? Did he freak out? Did he try to visit them at the hospital? He wasn't there for Tashi when she got injured, which he regrets deeply. So he couldn't allow himself to NOT be there for Art, right? So what if he did try to visit, but access was restricted to friends and family. Patrick is neither of those things, not anymore. He couldn't be there, again.

But I just know that, as Art was lying on that hospital bed, disoriented, terrified and delirious from painkillers, the first thing he said to Tashi as she walked into the room was a mantra of "I'm sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry ".

day 15: begging <3 (aka what i think art says during sex)

"you smell so good. how do you always smell so good"

"just use me.. please just use me i only wanna make y' feel good.."

"i’m sorry.. i’m sorry, it’s just- fuck.. god, you’re so tight-"

"so good.. so good.. i love your pussy, fuck - thank you - thank you"

"fuck it feels s' good.. hold my hand, please"

“ah..ah..ah feels so good, oh god. ‘m not gonna— fuck, not gonna last long.”

"i need it, i need it s' bad.. please lemme have it.."

"can I cum.. please, fuck, i need it, need it.. you.. fuck, please?"

“can i please? oh god, please, i need to come, i wanna come for you.."

“is this good? am i doing good?”

“i love you, i love you, i adore you, i need you.. don’t leave me”

"'m sorry, im cumming inside you, im cumming, im so sorry.." <3

GOD... HIS ARMS... HIS HANDS... he's so handsome and cute and adorable and everything to me..

day 12: masturbation <3

at first, art was jealous that patrick got to leave campus for winter break, leaving him stuck in the cold empty dorm without a friend. he was jealous until he realized he would be alone. for the first time in weeks art would be alone. not that he didn't like having patrick around.. but there were.. some things that art just couldn't do while patrick was there. sing in the shower, watch stupid reality tv, listen to loud music and.. jerk off.

patrick packed up the last of his stuff into his suitcase, shoving it in with no cares in the world. dragging his stuff to the door of their dorm patrick says goodbye to art, promising he'll send him pictures from his families ski lodge. art couldn't care less, but he smiles and nods, almost pushing patrick out of the door. once art is able to close the door and lock it, he looks around his now empty dorm and immediately gets hard.

art rushes over to his bed, quickly stripping off his clothes and laying down, feeling more aroused than he's felt in a long time. the fact he doesn't have to sneak around or hide from patrick makes butterflies soar in his stomach. as always, art doesn't really like jerking off in the sense of fucking his fist. ever since patrick introduced him to pillow humping, he hasn't masturbated any other way. art grabs a pillow from the pile at the top of his bed, cradling it against his chest so that he can rut his cock up into it. he moans softly, even though patrick isn't here he doesn't want anyone else to hear him. art rolls his hips slowly at first, closing his eyes and taking in all the little sensations of the soft fabric of his pillow against his pulsing flesh.

after a couple minutes of this, art finds that he can't hold back any longer, flipping over to lie on his stomach as he places the pillow underneath his hips. at this point, he's pretty much fucked out, drooling over his pillow and mumbling into his mattress as he clutches the sheets with clammy hands. art doesn't think of one specific person in his fantasy, only seeing shadows of soft warm bodies that run their hands over his skin, letting him take what he wants, what he needs. art grinds against the pillow a little faster, thinking about how hot and wet a pussy must feel, how it can clench and squeeze around him until he has no more cum left to give.

art has quickly forgotten about his will to stay silent, letting out breathy moans and whimpers every time his hips jerk back into the pillow. art is so worked up, he's so sensitive to all the stimulation he's putting himself through, the soft sheets on his drooling tip, the silky pillow he rubs his head against, the almost unbearable throbbing of his balls between his legs.. it's almost too much and- oh. oh- art realizes that he's going to cum. a short wave of disappointment over the fact that this heavenly experience didn't last as long as he wanted it to washes over him, quickly over taken my the electrifying feeling of his orgasm.

art thrusts wildly into his pillow, his adrenaline making it almost impossible for him to stop, even when ropes and ropes of sticky cum shoot out from his cock. art only stops when the shaking of his body becomes too much, making him lay down fully and take deep gulping breaths of air. he's blushing profusely, trying not to imaging how patrick would look at home if he found out the moment he left, art masturbated like a mad man.

art pulls on a pair of his boxers, grabbing his phone and checking his messages, finding one from patrick. "i forgot my sweatshirt in the dorm but when i came back it sounded like u were pretty busy.. have fun without me perv ;)" <3

muahaha.... coming soon.. (tmr probably 🩷)

waves hi hello you. seem super duper cool so now im gonna bombard you

yayyyyy 💗💗 please bombard me with things <33