GIVE US DOM NESS GIVE US DOM NESS FEED US FEED US FEED US FEED
MDNI. Lexi u have no idea the sigh of relief i just let out THANK U FOR VIBING W THE SWITCH NESS AGENDA!!!! I. Need to get my thoughts organized cuz i really want to write an extensive analysis on this freak but for now here’s what I’ve got. im sorry it's not much actual smut...I think the first time his dominant side comes out it's not the most healthy thing in the universe (altho it is a lil funny to me (cuz he's kinda pathetic and that's how I like him vjkslafdsj) but I promise he becomes a healthier Dom I just do not have the brain to write it right now)!!!
Ness loves service—it doesn’t matter whether he’s submissive or dominant. Service isn’t inherently either, even though it may appear more submissive on its face.
Most of the time, Ness’s brand of service is reverent—it is secure, gentle; a silent I love you, let me take this weight off your shoulders? It doesn’t necessarily ask for anything in return.
But sometimes, service can be twisted and used for gain. In such cases, service is about control.
I think it starts off completely innocent on your end. Match season was coming up for Ness, and you had also taken on new responsibilities at work. For the first time since you had started living together, he was coming home late, and you were leaving early. Some of your typical routines were naturally forced to adjust. The first of them being breakfast.
Breakfast was always something that Ness gushed eagerly about doing for you. Pancakes, omelettes, baked fruits with fresh pastry, honey and butter on toast and any kind of topping you liked—he was always trying new things for you, catering the meal depending on your workday and even your cycle. One time you had joked that you couldn't remember the last time you had to make breakfast for yourself, and he smiled so contently it made you blush. To your face, all he admitted was that he liked watching you eat. That was true. What was also true was how much he thought about the food he made being inside of you as you went about your day. A bit of his love, for you to carry and use as you pleased. A bit of claim. It sated something deep in him.
But the two of you had never made it a rule. So, waking up one morning to his soft, peacefully sleep-deprived face, you kiss his forehead and make an easy, practically thoughtless decision out of love. You make breakfast for yourself.
He thinks about it the whole day, like an incessant itch in his palms. You alone, with no piece of him with you. The feeling follows him home, at least until you take him into the shower and kiss the wrinkle between his brow with a soft, giggled, "what's got you so worked up?" That soothes the feeling for a bit.
At least until you start doing other things alone.
It's your laundry, next. The clothes he once would fold for you now go untouched by him before they are back in your closet. Even your panties, so delicately handled and revered, are not smelled and washed by his hand before they hold your loving form again.
Then it's your night routine. The intimacy he looks forward to the most after a grueling day on the field. He just wants to care for your pretty face—
"—oh, I already put on my cream 'Lexis, no need to worry about it! Come to bed already—"
He feels hollowed out. Rationally, he knows he should support your independence, should feel grateful for your consideration. Rationally, he knows he should just ask for reassurance.
If he just did the rational thing—and told you the truth—he would have to put all of his shame aside and confess that he wanted you to use him.
Or rather, that he wanted you to want to use him. That same itchy feeling returns at the thought. If he did the rational thing and told you the truth, would your desire for him still be natural?
And worse...what if you just didn't want him anymore?
You don't even have your way with him as often as you used to. Did you not need him? Did you not miss him the way he missed you? If he couldn't fill you, dress you, please you—how could he possibly deserve to keep you...?
Two more hours, then he would be home. He couldn't bear it anymore. Once he saw you, he would feel better. Once he could hold you, the feeling would subside.
The sound of a whistle resounds across the field. Water break.
Ness takes a swig from his bottle, absent-mindedly reaching for his phone on the bleachers in the process. His heart skips a beat when he sees the text notification from you. Then it sinks.
One message, picture attached. You're standing in front of a massage parlor he’s not familiar with.
Saw this place earlier! we should go together sometime, my personal masseuse deserves a break too y'know? :3
The image is too vivid. Someone else touching your skin. Someone else easing your stress. Someone else making you sigh with content.
Something inside of Ness snaps.
He grabs his nearest teammate and can't even stomach the effort it would take to lie. "My wife needs me. I'm leaving."
He doesn't answer any questions. He doesn't look back. He makes it to your door an hour and a half before usual. He doesn't even announce when he's home.
The house is silent.
A quick glance in the entryway tells him that you're there as well; your bag in its proper place, house keys on their usual hook. But you're not in the kitchen or living room, where you typically would be around now.
Maybe in the shower?
Ness enters the hallway towards the back of your house, where it tees off into the bathroom before finally ending with your shared bedroom. Now that he's actually here, surrounded by your smell and knick-knacks, he can feel the adrenaline, that desperation, finally start to reside. You would probably scold him (lightly) for coming back early without proper reason; and he would be happy to receive it. But since he was home early anyways, with you most likely washing up, that meant he could self-soothe a bit and take over your night routine for the first time in what has felt like an endless drought. Then he'd give you a massage and make you forget all about this idea of some other person taking care of you. It would all be worth it.
He rubbed at his face. It was not something he was proud of, this need he had to covet you all to himself. But the season was almost over, and when it ends, he would come clean. He would be good for you, he swore on it.
He slides his ear to the bathroom door, and where he should be hearing the sound of running water, Ness is met once again with silence. His brows furrow, and he cranes himself a little further into the door, hoping maybe to hear the sound of you dressing, perhaps, or humming to yourself as you do when you lather yourself in lotion. He cranes and cranes, leaning more and more of his body weight into the door—only for it to swing wide open with him against it.
The room was dark, dry. You weren't there. He hates how the realization makes the itch in his palms return with renewed force.
Stumbling back into the hallway, brows furrowed and confused, that's when he finally hears it, even though it's faint. Vibrations. Low, rumbling, continuous vibrations.
A phone? No, that wasn't quite right. Plus, it couldn't be his, not with the way it laid dormant in his pocket. He tried to key into the sound.
It was coming from the bedroom. Were you...?
His head is against the door before he can so much as think twice. The gentle buzz is louder now, a bit unsteady. Then, a soft sigh.
Fuck. You were.
Ness knew he needed to, but he couldn't tear his ear away from the door, even as his heart sank to his stomach. This is what it had come to, now. He was a failure. You didn't even need him to please you, anymore. It felt as though he was bearing witness to you slipping out of his fingers in real time.
Maybe you didn't need him for anything.
The bed creaks as you let out a particularly sharp gasp. The vibrations continue. He ignores his arousal, disgusted at himself over the fact that he is still there, listening to you without your permission. He bites down into his lip hard, tasting the metal tinge of blood as he tries hard to convince himself to move already, and have a bit of sensibility. He should go back to practice, while he still has the chance and pretend like this never happened—
"—ngh, ah n-Ness...!"
And it's as if he forgets how to breathe.
The door bursts open and you barely have time to loosen the start of a scream before magenta eyes enter your field of vision and he's on top, kissing you, hands burying into your hair and pulling you closer by the nape. It's the kind of kiss that takes your breath away, the kind that feels closer to exchanging air and enmeshment. It's the kind of kiss that tells you it's your Ness. You break away, using all of your force to push him away by his chest, and managing to only get a few inches before being held back by lean muscle.
"Ness! You almost gave me a heart attack!! Baby, what are you—"
"—I'm sorry," he croaks, thumb sliding to your cheek to rub at it in soothing motions. "I'm sorry, I couldn't keep myself away."
In the dimly-lit haze of your room, you have to squint a bit to read his expression. Your lover is flushed, pupils blown and eyes wide. New sweat mixes with the old as you realize he is still in his training uniform. His hair is disheveled. He looks...broken.
"...Ness?" You quickly turn off your vibrator and shuffle in closer. Even in your vulnerable state, concern immediately washes over you. Soccer was his passion, his magic. He never left training early unless something was very, very, wrong. You move your palms from his chest to his face, cradling him. "Are you okay, my love?"
A noise of ruin escapes him. Your worry flays him alive and gives him hope; hope of feeling whole once more.
"I heard you," he breathes. "I heard you call for me."
Your mouth opens wide as you remember yourself. Ah...you're so cute when you're flustered and shy. More, he wanted to see his effect on you more.
"—I! You weren't supposed to be home until—I mean, I didn't think that we would—you-you can't just—" you slump into his chest, sighing in defeat. "...You're such a pervert."
His dick twitches in his pants, pre-cum staining the interior. Ness pulls you in closer and inhales deep, cherishing your scent—your sex—like a man depraved.
"Yeah, I know. I'm your pervert." He loves the way you relax into his touch as he begins to let his hands wander over your skin and down your back. He loved being the only one, the only one you wanted to touch you like this. And he intended to keep it that way. A caressing kiss to the nape of your neck sends shivers down your spine and he practically preens. He wanted more, more, more. He wanted you to shiver like that when he made you come, when he made you squirt, when he gave you everything you deserved—
—If he kept thinking like this he might just come early, and he couldn't allow that.
He tilts your head up, voice earnest and concerned as if he didn't just walk into you moaning his name. "Did you come yet?"
You flush even harder, feeling uncharacteristically shy as you squeeze your thighs together around nothing. One of his hands comes down to slip between them. This was your Ness, but something was different; more intense. "Ngh—n-no, I haven't."
"Good." He kisses you again, tongue enveloping your own as a distraction. He lays you down and keeps going, pushing you into the mattress, tasting you in every which way, hand gently pushing your knees apart to let him fold your knees to your chest. It had been so long since you two had had the time to explore one another like this. His eagerness rolled off him like waves, hot and dizzying. You grab hold of your last crumb of reality.
"—wait," kiss, "but baby," kiss, "what about practice—"
"—It doesn't matter." Ness lets out a shaky groan as he grinds into you slowly, letting you feel how desperate you have him, how wet you both are, even with his shorts in the way. "Just wanna—hah—just wanna take care of you. Please," he whines, eyes boring into your own, "lemme take care of you."
Everything he is saying isn't stuff he hasn't said before. And yet...you can't place it, how his energy is different tonight. You can't focus on picking it out, not now, not when it makes you so wet.
You let go. You say yes.
He lets his head rest into the crook of your neck as he releases a shaky sigh of relief. "Thank you," he whispers.
Thank you, as he kisses down your neck.
Thank you, as he fondles and licks your nipples, leaving a hickey in between, right over your heart.
Thank you, as his lips trace over your hips and down, down, down.
His intense gaze envelops you like gravity and creeps into every pore, every crevice. It's like an oath. I promise to take care of you. I promise I'll be good.
Before eating you out, he lays a soft kiss on your clit, like an apology. Then he whispers I love you before devouring you whole.
He licks into you as if he can't get deep enough. Everything is wet, his tongue pressing into you thick and wanting. Squirming is futile with the tight grip he had on your hips.
The first time he takes you over the edge, you see stars. They blanket your vision and spark like the fireworks going off along your spine and into the curl of your toes. You hold onto his own magenta curls for dear life, for grounding, as you feel him push you into further overstimulation, wrapping his mouth over your pulsing pussy and sucking.
The second round is like worship. It is filled with adoration-laced kitten licks to your clit as he works you open on his fingers.
There you go, he says as he works a third one inside.
He groans a little at the sensation, humping desperately against the mattress. "I-it's so fluttery inside," he coos at your pussy, soothing it "I know, ngh, I've got you now. You don't have to miss me anymore."
I'm never leaving you again.
You cum so hard you sob. When you come back up for air, you fail to register that he's moved your vibrator.
"How do you want it, schatz?" Ness kisses you again, his gentleness at conflict with the way he's now caging your splayed form under his own, hands pinned. He kisses the leftover tears from your last climax like gems; possessively, and quietly proud. Even after everything, your body still jolts when you feel him press down against you.
"How do I make it so you can't help but crave me? Hm?" You can barely hear him over the buzzing in your head. All that's registering is that he's hard. Unbearably so.
Your beautiful boy. You loved him.
"J-just want y-you, Nessie." you breathe. "just you...it's always been you."
Everything is a haze after that.
Nothing Ness says is coherent anymore; not between sloppy tongue-kisses and tears and the stench of sex. Confessions of I love you's and I'm yours blend together as he engraves himself into your soul, stretching you full in a mating press so obscene that it would leave you embarrassed any time else.
His moans are so earnest, so intense, they make you clench onto him harder. Ness wishes he'd never have to leave.
He begins to move, thrusting shallowly at first, keeping the tip of him smushed up against you deep. "Everything I am is yours," he confesses, keeping his forehead against yours. "Just use me—use me however you want, all I want is to be yours to use always always always—" he begins to thrust deeper, more desperately now, whimpering uncontrolled and raw.
You're no better off.
Ness begins to find his rhythm, using the hand pinning your hands down to stabilize himself as he thrusts deep and hard, the other mapping your body, pausing briefly to press down on your lower stomach to feel the place where you connect. A guttural groan escapes you both at the sensation, and you bite into his neck to cope.
God, he loved it when you marked him. When you claimed him.
It felt like a fucking reward.
He grabs the wand and flicks it on. A gasp punches out of you when he places it on your clit, hands clenching under him for escape from the overstimulation.
"No no no—don't think baby, don't run away—" Ness babbles, "just fuck, just let me serve you—mein gott I can feel you cumming again for me baby yes yes yes—please cum for me please give it to me I'm gonna cum with you yes please please please I love you I love you—"
Electricity lights up every nerve in your body as you break apart again. Hot liquid squirts out of you and onto Ness's torso, making his hips stutter as his cum fills you in thick spurts. He kisses you as he cums, hugging you tight even as you both clamor for breath.
The two of you remain like that for a while, simply basking in each other's embrace, feeling like one. You barely have the energy to open your eyes, settling instead for playing with Ness's hair in the afterglow.
"I love you," you whisper.
"I love you more," he promises.
You tug on his hair in playful retaliation. All you succeed in doing is making him nuzzle into you further. He cracks one eye open.
"...Hey schatz?"
"Yeah?"
"I miss making you breakfast," he says.
You snort. "Then make me breakfast, pretty boy."
And finally, finally, the itchy feeling subsides.
