#it's been a hot minute since we got subby up in hurr

[lihikainanea]

thinking about jealous bill a lot these days, lei, and how he’d fuck her so good after. one of those fucks where he’s just making her HIS, fucking her from behind and just making her forget any words. especially if she was already small and some guy hit on her at a bar that she already didn’t want to be at and bill just assures her the whole time home. but once they’re home? he knows what he’s gotta do and that’s making her mind blank.

Oooooooof I've been sitting on this for too long, but it has had me tingling for days. I've been itching to get my thoughts out on it, but idk sometimes this routine that I think I have nailed down with my little furry dude just goes to shit all of a sudden and there's really no reason to it. Last week I was rocking it, his nap times were on point, I was eating dinner by 7, we had walks, play time, then he conked out. This week I'm like DURRRR HOW DO I DOG PARENT? and I'm eating dinner at 10 and I feel like even Bongo is looking at me like he really needs me to get my shit together.

ANYWAY.

Let's get into this.

What I love about this here is the small but incredibly important detail that you mentioned that like...maybe tiger is already a little small. Maybe she's somewhere she doesn't want to be and Bill knows this, maybe she's not feeling too great about it and is getting worse, maybe she wants out or needs a reprieve and Bill knows it. And that right there flares up his protector side, the primal side of him that just wants to pick her up and carry her out, get her somewhere dark where she can sit on his lap and he can shove his thumb in her mouth and hold her there for as long as she needs. Tiger being a little overwhelmed, a little uncomfortable in a place she doesn't want to be in, tiger getting a little small in a place that's not safe for her to be small in and she knows it so she's spiralling a little...oof, Bill morphs into the alpha male that he keeps buried deep, and his own instincts are on fire to protect her, comfort her, provide for her. Throw in a little jealousy on Bill's side because tiger being small is....like, that's his you know? Only he gets to see that. And her mood is completely imperceptible to everybody else, but she may as well have a sign on her forehead that says "PUT ME ON MY KNEES" to Bill. It's so obvious to him, and his feathers are all ruffled because that's his. That's his look.

So alright, maybe tiger is just having a fucking shit week. She's due to be riding the crimson wave in a few days so she's bloated and the tatas are sensitive , her clothes aren't fitting, she's been kind of nauseous all day with a dull ache in the base of her skull. Maybe it's 38754596660 fucking degrees in a heat wave and like, tiger doesn't do heat. Her commute to work is not air-conditioned, so by the time she gets home she's overheated and sweaty and even more puffy and just full of fucking bad feelings. She's physically uncomfortable for a million different reasons, she's tired, SHE'S SO DAMN HOT--it's just all bad.

But it's a friend's birthday and at the moment, tiger kind of thinks that friend is a fucking asshole for organizing something in the middle of the week--let alone the worst week of life--but she's going. They're going. They have to.

But Bill's not convinced.

"You know kid," he says gently as he leans against the doorframe, sipping a beer as tiger tries on the millionth dress. The rejects are in a heap on the bed, and she struggles with the zipper as she shoots him an annoyed look.

"We can sit this one out if you don't feel like going," he says. He doesn't move to help her with the zipper--not when she's in a mood like this. Instead, he just swigs his beer.

"No we can't Bill," she snaps, and with a frustrated huff the dress goes up and over her head and is tossed into the pile of rejects. "She'll be pissed if we miss this."

"Then she's pissed," he shrugs, "We can make it up to her."

Tiger yanks another dress out of the closet, pulls it on. She pokes at it, turns a few ways in the mirror.

"That one's cute," he says.

But then she unties the belt, flings it off so the dress billows loosely around her frame.

"Fuck it," she says, grabbing his beer on her way out of the room, "I'm fucking wearing this fucking potato sack to fucking dinner."

Bill watches as she downs the beer in two gulps.

"Ugh," she mutters lowly, "Fucking lite beer bullshit."

At this point, he really just has all the sympathy in the world for her. Her friends are important to her, and tiger always feels a sense of obligation to never let them down. He knows this is the last place she feels like going tonight, but she's forcing herself to.

And like the thing with tiger's bad moods is sometimes they make her full of piss and vinegar and ready to fight everyone, and sometimes they just make her small. Bill never knows which way it's going to go, but given the fact that she's a little hormonal and he knows she's close to shark week, he can take a guess at which way the dice will roll tonight.

And it basically starts in the car on the way there. She's fidgety, even with the A/C cranked on high. She's pulling at the hem of her dress, huffing, she's rubbing at her temples. At one point she takes the seatbelt, pulling it away from her body and Bill shoots her a quizzical look.

"If my tits could stop feeling like they're about to fucking burst, that'd be great," she mutters.

"I'll give you a massage later tonight," he kisses her knuckles.

"Fuck all of this."

"I know, kid."

And it just gets worse. When tiger is in this kind of mood, really the thing that makes it worse is to just....surround her with people. Surround her with people that she has to fake joy and happiness with. She doesn't have the patience or the fucking energy for it, and despite her best efforts, Bill can see the scowl permanently etched in her forced happy face. And he can see the shift start to happen--the way she fidgets a lot more, and can't get comfortable. The way her shoulders hunch over. The way she's flinching or jumping at loud noises, squinting or wrinkling her features at the bright lights. Her eyes are getting a bit of a spaced out look, she's not really engaging in conversations--everything is just too much. The environment is starting to get way too stimulating, way too overwhelming, and she's getting small on him. He gives her knee a hard squeeze, hard enough to ground her and catch her attention and she jolts.

"You good?" he murmurs lowly. And he knows she's not. SHE knows that he knows she's not. But she forces a fake smile, so wide that it's almost sarcastic.

"Peachy."

A few minutes pass, her knee bouncing, her eyes flitting everywhere, and she stands.

"I need some air," she says, "It's too fucking hot in here."

Bill stands immediately, but she puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back down.

"I'm fine," she says, "Really. Just give me a minute."

He doesn't like it, not one bit, but he lets her go. Alone.

A few minutes pass, and sure enough she comes back in. She motions her hand to the bar, but Bill holds up his full pint to let her know he doesn't need another round just yet. She nods, heading there anyway to get a refill for herself.

Bill has eyes on her. Bill always has eyes on her. And tiger doesn't see it, but Bill does--he sees the guy standing next to her give her a little once-over, sees a smirk tilt up the guy's lips, and Bill knows what's about to happen. He doesn't hear the conversation, but he doesn't need to. He sees the guy speak. He sees tiger tense up a little, a tight smile in politeness, and she turns her head to try and make eye contact with the bartender a little quicker.

The guy doesn't get the hint, and keeps talking. Bill stands up. His eyes are on her the whole time, and now she's ignoring the guy. Turning her body slightly away, leaning forward a bit in hopes of getting her order in with the bartender faster. Her shoulders are practically up by her ears, and the guy with the sleazy smirk is still talking. Bill is ready to fucking punch the guy into next week just for the reaction that he's eliciting from his girl--making her scared, making her uncomfortable, even fucking daring to talk to her when she's like this. Bill eats up the distance with quick strides.

He makes it in the nick of time, right as this guy had raised a hand and was poised to place it on tiger's back in a rather unwanted caress. Bill grabs his wrist, steps between him and tiger, and gets real into his space.

"Just try and touch her motherfucker," he growls, "I dare you."

And listen, if nothing else--Bill is tall and that's intimidating as fuck when it gets right up in your space real quickly. But Bill also came out of nowhere, he looks a little crazy, and this guy suddenly ain't so down to rumble.

"Bro, I didn't know--"

But Bill just stands even taller and tiger actually shrinks behind him, her hand gently on his back, and it's the only thing that's keeping him remotely calm. This isn't about his anger. This is about protecting her, especially when she's like this for him, and nothing else matters.

The guy just holds his hands up, and backs away into the crowd. When he's out of sight, Bill turns to her.

"We're leaving kid," he says, and god it's so gentle, "Go wait for me by the car okay?"

"No," she mumbles immediately, fisting at his shirt a little bit, "No, can I stay here with you?"

And he realizes that she's a little scared and just a whole lot overwhelmed, and Jesus he could fucking melt into a puddle for her right that second.

"Of course you can," he tugs on a lock of her hair gently, "Of course you can."

Bill gets the bartender's attention in no time--a giraffe at your bar will do that--and he pays for everyone's tab. They make a hasty exit but he takes the blame--it's par for the course when you're friends with Bill, he's often tiger's ride and he's always getting all kinds of urgent calls--and then they leave.

And listen, the second that they're in the car? Tiger can finally start to let her walls come down, which is just fucking igniting Bill's jealous side and his protector side.

"Are you okay?" he murmurs to her. She looks so fussy, so small for him.

"I want to go home," she whines.

"I know sweet girl, I'm taking you home."

"He was awful Bill," she says, "Ugh, he was so sleazy and so slimy and--and he tried--"

"He tried tiger," he says softly, "He can try all he wants. He'll never have what's mine."

"No he won't," she sniffles. Bill tucks her hair behind her ears, taps two fingers against her lips and she sucks at them.

"Are you mine?" he asks softly, "Is this mine?"

She nods, but he tuts her.

"Yes," she mumbles, "Yours."

"Good," he murmurs. He pulls his fingers from her mouth and she whines, but he drags his hand down and cups her mound softly. She moans and grabs onto his wrist.

"What about this?" he asks, "Is this mine too?"

"Yes," she chokes out, "Yes. God Bill get me home."

"I will sweet girl, I will."

And listen, when they get home? oof. There's no stopping Bill. He can't switch it off, he doesn't want to tame it, and tiger doesn't want him to either. She's his. He's possessive, he's rough, he's jealous--and all it does is make her smaller for him, make her even more soft and subby, which just makes him even more alpha. It's rough because he needs it, SHE needs it, needs the pain of it to feel grounded, needs the sting of a spanking so that she can feel his strength, so she can feel like she's his, so she can feel owned and possessed and protected. And Bill needs to mark her to feel like she's his, because goddamnit it came so close tonight to everyone seeing her only the way he gets to. Too many people almost saw what is only his to see.

For as much as he wants to wreck her, maybe tiger wants to be on her knees for him. Maybe she needs to be on her knees for him. And for however much he might need something else, nights like these are always about her, and what she needs comes first.