Art Brainrot

“I got you something.”

You felt like a parent taking their kid to meet Santa.

You know something he doesn’t.

“What for?”

You shrug, trying to stay casual.

“Just cause.”

Perched on the king-sized bed, he watches patiently as you dig through the shared dresser. When you turn around, you’re holding a box. It's wine red with a bow on top.

You set it on his lap. He raises his eyebrows, silently asking for permission.

“Go ahead.”

He traces the soft velvet of the loop, the smoothness of the parcel, and then…

Suddenly he’s feeling cold, supple leather.

His eyes widen when he he realizes what he’s holding.

It cant be…

He inspects the craftsmanship, running a finger over the edge of the collar.

He’s equal parts shock and arousal.

He feels out of body until your voice brings him back.

“If you don’t like it, we can pretend it never happened.”

This dynamic was not new to you and Art, but this was a whole new step. To surprise him, you risked making him uncomfortable.

But that couldn't be farther from what he’s feeling. You just can’t tell because the box is covering his hard-on.

“No!” his head darts up, “ No, no.”

You find respite in his reaction.

“Want to wear it." he admits meekly.

Thank god.

“Just caught me off guard, that’s all”

He swallows apprehensively.

“Could I- could I try it on right now?”

You're proud of him for voicing his wants. He hasn't exactly always been good at that.

“Of course.”

Art holds the collar up for you to take. The motion reminds him of when he used to hold up a rosary for the prayer of the heart.

You gladly accepted.

His head tilts back for you, exposing the long pale curve of his neck.

His breaths are shaky.

You lean over him. It’s a simple hook, like one you’d find on a bracelet or necklace. It still takes a moment to clasp correctly because of the awkward angle, but eventually he feels the material bob over his throat.

It's snug, but not too snug.

Just right.

You take a step back to admire the view.

Wow.

“You look so handsome,” and you mean it, “S‘not too tight? Feel ok?”

Feel okay?

He clears his throat, "No it- it feels great."

You’ve never seen him this shy before.

“Thank you. I love it. I really do.”

“Well I'm glad. Just wanted to give my boy something special.”

You grab his collar (gently) and pull him close to you. It’s obvious on his face that he wasn’t expecting that. When you close the space between the two of you, all his inhibitions dissipate.

You’re kissing him and he moans into your mouth. His tongue is trying to touch every corner at once.

You straddle him and he scoots further on the bed to make room for you.

“I’ve seen you,” you say in between kisses, “you hump the mattress when you think I've fallen asleep.”

A sigh falls from bud wet lips.

“I'm sorry. Ever since we moved in together, god it’s like torture in the best way. Seeing my girl throw my laundry in with hers, make the bed we share, wear flowy dresses around the house… I can't help it.”

Poor boy.

“You know, it doesn’t hurt to ask.” a bit or teasing in your voice.

Yeah sure. Let me ask my girlfriend if she’ll be my free-use pillow. That'll go well.

“You know I have stamina. Maybe not as much as a professional athlete, but still.”

“It's embarrassing,” he mumbles, staring at the quilt, “I'm acting like a teenager.”

“Oh baby,” you coo, lifting his chin, “it’s only natural for puppy boys like you to act this way.”

Art swallowed, almost cartoonishly. It's a wonder his eyes didn't bug out of his head when he first saw the collar.

“You don't have to cage your desires.”

A bit of drool escaped from the corner of his mouth. You softly wiped it away with your thumb, then kept your hand there cradled on his cheek.

“Can you show me?” you ask softly and innocently, “Can you show me how good puppies treat their owners?”

He roused at this, nodding frantically. Tearing off your shirt and bra in a hurry. It’s a miracle he didn’t rip any seams. His arms found their place around your middle, the skin-to-skin making him dizzy.

He wastes no time putting a nipple into his mouth. Eyes closed, tongue going into muscle memory. He's so happy, so peaceful.

Your chest gets very slobbery very quickly. Kisses appear in the center of your chest, then on your ribs, then your stomach.

When he gets to your belly button, Art is half crouched and physically uncomfortable. So he puts a hand under each thigh, turns a hundred and eighty degrees and sets you down. All with the speed and ease of a man who’s done this a thousand times.

He looks at you in awe, mouth hanging open.

“Safeword?” you catechize

The word emerges as a beacon of trust and mutual respect:

“Quasar.”

“Good boy.” you nod, petting his face once more,

His lips meld to yours while his tough hands pulled off your leggings and underwear in one go.

He's back on your stomach. Able to stretch out.

Rubbing his face on it. He nips at your stretch marks, your hip joint, then rests a tiny kiss on your mound.

You whimpered the first moment his mouth moved in between your lips. But art was louder. He couldn't control his sounds any more than you could yours. His eyes closed and his tongue slurped up his favorite treat. It seemed like he couldn't swallow fast enough.

“God,” he panted,

Your back made a picturesque arch. He slid his hands under it.

His ears became covered by your thighs.

His face went lower and you felt the tip of his nose inside you.

He shakes his head from side to side. He would move in there, but unfortunately lack of oxygen forced him to remove his head.

He gathers some of your wetness on his pointer and middle finger. Very gently swirling them around. Then he rubs your clit at an insane pace, his biceps flexing.

It took you completely off guard. The speed and pressure on it. Like he was trying to rub it raw.

You gripped the bedsheets.

“Fuck!” you cried out “I can't, I-”

“Yes you can.” he said firmly, sucking your firm clit into his beautiful mouth.

“Please, cmon, gimme somethin. I'm thirsty, baby”

Those words alone could do it.

Before your Art, you always figured your body just couldn't squirt.

How wrong you were.

Not all of the people you'd been with were bad at sex, but they weren't him. It was the amount of attention he paid that made the blonde second to none.

Like right now, he rubbed soothing circles on your stomach while he did tricks with his tongue. Theres no metaphor needed- it felt fucking good.

“Haah... Uugh.. Aaah...”

You gripped onto his curls and gasped.

“Gonna make me cum.”

“Yes, please. Please mommy.”

He slid his middle finger in with his other hand and you were done for.

You experienced a climax so powerful it made you stupid for a moment. No weight, no thoughts, just senses. Spots of black covered your vision for a few seconds.

You smiled when you realized Art was laying kisses on your face.

“Thank you, ” you whispered, “That felt so good, baby.”

He hid his joy in the crook of your neck. You embrace him, stroking up and down his back. Then you look down to find the source of what's poking you. You grab his clothed cock.

“Let's do something about this, hm?”

He whimpers and nearly falls on you. Nodding and digging his palms into the mattress.

“Cmon,” you chuckle and jerk your head. “Lie down like a good boy.”

Within a matter of seconds, the both of you were now bare. The tennis player beneath you, where he can get out of his head.

“Do you need lube?” he asked, rubbing his hands up and down your waist.

“No,” you shook your head, “I think you got me plenty ready.” you said through a laugh.

He rolled his eyes but the grin was impossible to keep away.

“Thank you for asking, sweetie”

You pecked him in appreciation. It was over too soon for his liking.

You held his cock in your hand, admiring how pretty it was before getting it coated on your folds.

You let out moans and closed your eyes in synchronization. You loved when his precum would mix with your wetness. It was a feeling hard to describe, giving you goosebumps and making you ache for more.

“Mommy,” he whispered as you slipped it in.

You tried to control your breathing as you took him.

Art bit the back of his hand, restraining himself from cumming already.

“How do you make so so full every time?” you exhaled, throwing your head back as you started to grind your hips in circles.

A deep rumble came out of your chest.

“feelssogood.”

His eyes squeezed shut.

“Look at me, baby.”

You smiled from ear to ear when you saw his blue and hazel eyes.

“There's my angel.” you cooed in that sickly sweet voice.

He turned his head and bit the edge of the pillow. You started moving up and down on his cock. Your mouth is right by his ear.

“Bite me instead.”

He wastes no time. He let go of the pillow and sunk his teeth into your delicate neck.

“Ohhh..”

It was meant to be a nice thing for art, for his puppy brain to indulge in. But it made you short circuit. The sounds of him sucking your pulse point. The knowledge that there's a bruise when you get up. His breathy moans right in your ear.

“Such a good boy. Making mommy feel so go- fUck.”

He lifted his hips to meet yours. Going at a pace that would be inconceivable to anyone who doesn't train on a court for eight hours a day.

“So pretty in your fucking collar. Want you to wear it around the house.” you moaned hoarsely.

Art is not one of those losers who’s embarrassed to moan. He’s telling you alllll about it right now.

His thrusts from the bottom never lost intensity. It shook the whole bed.

“Gonna cum for you, mommy. Hnnnngh-“

“Cum inside, puppy, give me a litter.”

Art blacked out. You felt sticky and warm from the inside out. When you got off him it clung to your thighs.

You got him some water and cuddled him until he became more fully conscious again.

“Hey, precious.” you said ever so softly.

You planted a kiss on his forehead, bundled the both of you up in blankets and took his collar off.

“For safety you shouldn’t sleep in it. I’ll keep it right here on my nightstand.”

He nodded, still not ready to speak yet. That’s ok.

His arms wound tightly around your naked skin. He swore it was the softest thing he ever touched.

“We should get your name engraved on this. Or should it say “mommas boy?””