He Doesn't Know How To Look Bad

It serves as proof that vampires exist

Happy B-day Georg! ཐི♱ཋྀ

Do you write about Tom? I love ur writing and need one about him 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Don't piss me off

PAIRINGS: Tom 2014 x female reader

GENRE: smut

SYNOPSIS: Quarrel – reconciliation – the closed door of the dressing room.

WARNINGS: rough sex, drunk sex, sex in public places, p in v

A/N: english is not my native language! I hope I was able to do what anon asked me to do. By the way, you can also leave your requests!!

You've always hated fan meetings before concerts. A terrifying crowd of maddened girls, pressing worse than a tank and screaming louder than all sirens, once again strove to break through the fence, behind which those that everyone dreams of, those who are unattainable, those who live in some unearthly space and smile at those same girls only from posters on top of torn wallpaper above the bed in frozen, so inanimate poses were about to appear. The girls excitedly waved their cameras, drawings, and albums, looking at a large stand full of images of the album, against which the "Kings of Suburbia" autograph session was about to begin.

Even from afar, it was sickening for you to watch, because such events definitely did not give you joy. Firstly, these fans know no boundaries and can sometimes afford too much. Secondly, the pressure and tension scratching from within does not let go, holding him in a tight prickly embrace – your lover is not at all shy to flirt in response. Of course, of all the famous four, it was he who happened to become an honorary "womanizer." They're just fans who can't even dream of being in your shoes. Their only pleasure is to get an autograph of their favorite idol and take a photo as much as possible so that "all the friends will definitely get jealous." That's how you always calmed yourself down in order to extinguish the growing flames of jealousy inside. The pretense of arrogance at the sight of all these young screaming girls was rapidly transformed into a mixture of suffocation and a kind of despair – oh, how you wanted to come up and just take Tom away from here from prying eyes. From their eyes. And if Bill, Gustav and Georg behave more restrained at the autograph sessions, limiting themselves to just a smile and a short nod of the head, then the elder Kaulitz will definitely throw something out. He will sign with a marker on bare chest, without hesitation, omit a vulgar compliment or wink, deliberately touching lip piercing with tongue and thereby bringing beloved fans to ecstasy. It flattered his ego and elevated his already inflated self-esteem to the skies.

You watched in confusion as the fans came almost right up to the table, where the band members were already sitting, ready to sign CDs, photos, albums, breasts, damn it. It's funny, but there are such fans at every session. And you know everyone's reaction at the same time – Bill will blush amusingly and will put on an awkward smile, Georg will just laugh, Gustav will pretend that he is indifferent to everything as always, but Tom.. He definitely won't refuse such a request to the distraught fans. And it was incredibly annoying.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Tom?”

“I have a lot of girls.”

“Which one of you has the most fans?”

“I have it! And interestingly, they are all girls..”

“I've had sex all over the world. I would have made a great video if I could have chosen the actresses.. But then it'll probably be like porn.”

“Hey, Georg, I can give you some girl numbers so you don't get bored..”

You grinned through your teeth, ignoring the resentment rising in your throat, burning harder than the red-hot lava in the Vesuvius Gorge. Bitch, he'll never admit to reporters or fans. You desperately wanted to believe that he would admit it to himself. Always, absolutely always, Tom's conversations in all interviews were always about girls, which made it impossible to shake your personal balance from the inside. Your balance with him. You knew that all this was just a clever production move to keep the band on top of the ratings for as long as possible. God forbid that the interest of those same girls, who made up the entire fanbase, should fade away. After all, the news that the main seducer of the group had already acquired his faithful would break millions of hearts around the world. Neither Jost nor the label was an attractive prospect, and therefore you were strictly forbidden to go out with Tom together, so as not to fall into the traps of paparazzi cameras and not become a cause for gossip in the tabloid press. Everything was supposed to be kept a top secret, namely Tom's relationship with you, which has been going on for two years. The choice is harsh enough, but you were satisfied with such sacrifices. Although sometimes it seemed to you that Tom would have made a great actor – he coped too well with the role assigned to him.

During your visit to Tokyo and his, he brazenly stared at Japanese schoolgirls and, right in front of the camera, gave out his signature: “Cool short skirts!” With a funny German accent. And yet, sometimes he would show up at his hotel room with you drunk and wearing someone else's feminine perfume on his T-shirt, after which he would fall asleep almost in the hallway, content with the fate of a world-famous musician. And it was at such moments that you tried to make sure that no one could hear your sobs from the bathroom door, which was closed. You batted your eyelashes to blink the sad bitterness out of your eyes and just try to pull yourself together and not go to the younger Kaulitz's room to complain about his brother's drunken antics. Or for sincere conversations with Georg, with whom you have always had friendly harmony and mutual understanding, even in these frenzied tours, studio chores and other worries of musicians. But no, you tried to stand it all by yourself, watching from afar as your drunken body got tangled in your own T-shirt. You held on.

The edge of your worried gaze catches on a couple of girls who came up to the table and dressed quite frankly, as you noted for yourself. Bill signed the album they brought first, smiling with a marker pen, and then pushed it to Tom. The trembling hands of one of these people held the camera uncertainly, while the other whispered something in Tom's ear, which immediately made him smile. A couple photo with an idol? A kiss on the cheek and a click. Irritated by all the threads of your already wound–up nerves, you pursed your lips and watched the reaction of the elder Kaulitz – of course, to wink and sign on the cleavage area, which was specially prepared with a short top - as if to spit. It was hard for you to hold back. Yes, you and Tom were in a relationship, but this was not a reason to declare to the whole world your ownership rights to Tom. This cannot be done. This is prohibited. Now he is a star for whom the stage image is above all. But is it an image?

It went on like this with almost all the fans, even the most obviously scary ones, which made you even laugh nervously. Flirtatious glances, winks, similar insolence in the form of kisses, and most importantly, Tom's disposition and calmness towards all this fueled a raging mess of irritation and jealousy in you. Sometimes it even came to thoughts of breaking off the relationship, because seeing your boyfriend so often in the company of such insolent girls was beyond your strength. Similarly, it was beyond your strength to watch Tom briefly go somewhere with those same girls, and then come back as if nothing had happened, joining the rest of the band to pose for a photo shoot. And these two were whispering about something insanely vulgar, passing by an unsuspecting you.

“I can indulge in sex with a fan.”

The tension grew from the inside, and staff bustled about, ushering out the curious girls, who were still shouting various words of love and delight, most of them addressed, of course, to Tom. And you had a brilliant idea, in your opinion. Well, now you had to retreat faster and make your way to the balcony, from which the stage will be visible in the palm of your hand and you can watch the performance that has already amazed the whole world, so that you definitely do not lose sight of Tom, follow every movement of his strong hands caressing the guitar, and of course look at the blonde soloist in royal robes.

The guys, still under the power of emotions that did not let go after the performance, smile broadly as they walk down the corridor towards the dressing room. You knew how to sneak into the backstage area, bypassing all the guards, and you were already there shortly before the four appeared. Bill and Gustav were the first to appear in your field of vision, waving their hands in a polite and friendly manner, after which they disappeared through the door, followed by Georg.

“Well, Tom, get ready, my revenge will be sweet.” It flashed through your mind.

“Wow, what kind of people.” The bassist stretched out his vowels affably when he saw his best friend's girlfriend.

“Great, he'll play along with me!” You cunningly realized and ran up to the short-haired brown-haired man with emotions, bumping into him with hugs.

“Georg!” You tenderly extend the bass player's nickname, which is already boring to everyone, expressing sincere, genuine delight: “You were just on top! As always, the whole hall sang along with you.. You are simply the best! I am sure that all the MTV awards will be yours this year.” You babbled so fast and enthusiastically, being sure that Tom would definitely notice it.

“My princess, actually, in this group, who is the best and most talented is me.” And here you heard a familiar timbre from behind. He noticed. Wow, his ego and arrogance are right there.

“And the most humble, of course.” You squeezed out through your teeth, casually glancing at Tom, who was coming up from behind. But still pretending that you don't care about him at all, still continuing to smile, looking at Georg.

“Let him suffer.” You were being sarcastic inside yourself.

“Huh, don't tell me, he's Mr. Modesty himself.” The bassist picked up, not missing the opportunity to make fun of the elder Kaulitz.

The unhealthy twinkle in his eyes went through your whole being, causing you to feel an unpleasant chill from the inside. You were still clutching onto the T-shirt on Listing's shoulders, completely ignoring the whole world. The world Tom was in was so close that his gaze created a tremulous excitement. In the huge pockets of his jeans, Kaulitz hid his palms, which had already turned into fists, exacerbating the already tense atmosphere hovering around him.

“She's standing there, bitch, smiling, and Georg is just happy.” Tom thought to himself. “He's too polite to push his bandmate's girlfriend away from him, covering it all up with a strong friendship.”

The soloist's voice came from the dressing room, saying that he couldn't find the damn bottle of champagne anywhere.

Tom got out of the shower later than the others, tumbling out into the dressing room, where his bandmates and you were sitting on low sofas and sipping your favorite stress-relieving champagne. And Kaulitz Sr. even regretted it, entering the room last and finding a rather interesting picture – if his brother and the drummer were sitting close to each other, engaged in some kind of conversation, then you and Georg are together. You were almost snuggled up to the bass player, crossing your legs, thereby lifting the dress slightly above the knees and revealing the graceful legs that he wanted to instantly pick up and spread. He was looking at the charming curves of your figure, which you deliberately tormented with your exaggerated, horribly nauseating acting, inventing involvement in Bill's conversation about awards, nominations, producers and other show business routine for world stars. He absorbed the way your lips pressed against the glass, sipped the sparkling liquid, and then stretched into a smile for all the band members, but especially for Georg. The elder Kaulitz's interior was burning with deadly heat, comparable in temperature to the sun's core, and it could only be cooled with an entire bottle of champagne stored in the minibar. That's it, drink it in one gulp, but you can't get away from the burning sensation from the inside.

“Tom, what are you doing up there?” The voice of his younger brother brought him back to reality, and the guy stupidly blinked in order to tear his eyes away from the idyll involving his girlfriend. “I've already poured it for you.”

“Thanks, Bill, I don't want to.” A rude voice spread in the dressing room. Tom fell down next to his brother on a low sofa, wedging himself between him and Gustav. He already regretted that he had refused a cold sparkling drink, so at least he could get some relaxation. But no, Kaulitz chose to exhaust his self–control by leaning on the back of the sofa and spreading his legs wide in his trademark manner.

“Do you remember how we got drunk after a concert a couple of years ago, so that we didn't even wake up in our hotel?” You sounded cheerful. “Only Georg was sane at that time, and he also brought everyone to their senses..” You turned to the bass player, not letting go of your almost empty glass.

“Oh yeah, how can you forget that,” Bill popped an apple slice into his mouth for a snack. “Only I even woke up with a new tattoo after that incident.” And as a reaction to this, everyone laughed, even Gustav. Tom only managed a nervous, angry smile. Georg. The cloying, unpleasant sound of your cheerful voice, gargling in Tom's ears.

Georg and you were on pretty strong friendly terms, as well as with Bill and Gustav, too. Unless, at the moment, the bass player had no idea that he was the target of your little devious game against Tom. But he couldn't object openly either, because in any relationship with girls he remained calm, sane, as well as good manners and politeness.

“Do you want another drink?” Listing responded sympathetically, seeing the empty glass of his friend, you. You obediently put your glass under a new dose of alcohol, as the bottle immediately ran out.

“Thanks. You are the best friend on earth!” You smiled broadly and, not expecting such impudence bordering on excitement, you gave Georg a short kiss on the cheek. Maybe he blushed funny after that, but you didn't see it, trying to sneak a peek at Tom's reaction. Tom feigns extreme calm, trying not to fill the space with alarmed and angry sighs.

“And what does that mean? Do you want to laugh at me? To make fun of?” It was inside Tom. Kaulitz is twisted from the inside out from fucking impotence and a desire to take revenge on the girlfriend for this unspoken game on his nerves, but between these conversations about "anything" in their group and in a similar situation, it's at least indecent to sort things out. First of all, in front of my brother and colleagues. Fortunately, a good reason came up – you got up, straightening your dress and followed to the mini-bar for a new bottle, while your friends were engaged in conversations about music. And Tom gets up after you, jerking off the couch and heading towards you. Every action, every word directed against him, is hammered into the coffin of his self-love and pride. How he hates it when he is so blatantly tricked like an ignorant fool. Especially if his beloved girlfriend does it, especially in front of others. An unpleasant pressure settles in the head and prompts sharpness and impatience to rise from their inner graves. It turned out to be very ironic in relation to the guitarist. But he's not amused.

“Honey, can I have a word with you?”

Tom's alarmed and angry voice pierced into your back like a spear, while you crouched next to the minibar, taking out a bottle. You clearly felt that the elder Kaulitz was right behind you, waiting for an answer that he was interested in himself. However, he gives himself a grace period only for the first three minutes, and after that he just gets bored. Your nature silently rejoices at such a simple observation- “Oh, he's finally hurt by this. Now he's not just looking at his teenage fans.”

“Tom, wait, I need to open a bottle.” As if you were casually disavowing, continuing to ignore the already pretty angry guy. But you're happy anyway, because you've caused an emotional flurry inside him, which is definitely detonating with frenzied power right now.

”You can wait.” Kaulitz thundered, roughly snatching the bottle from your fragile hands and putting it back on the table. “You better not piss me off.”

You didn't have time to understand anything and even cast a helpless glance at the guys, who were still talking enthusiastically about something, as Tom almost jerked you out of the room and led you towards the second dressing room – the one where the band was preparing for the concert. Without even being able to react, you just followed under the pressure of a tall, strong body that instantly pushed you into an empty dressing room.

“Tom, what are you doing..” Desperately seeking understanding, but such a doomed tone of your voice spreads through the room with a barely trembling vibration. You involuntarily cringed when the guitarist's fingers pressed down on the door latch, and then you leaned your whole body against the wall and were about to move when he abruptly approached you again. It even hurt when Tom grabbed you by both hands and literally pushed you into the white surface of the wall.

“What the fuck was that just now?” Tom's steely voice sounds literally in your ears, but your vigilance is already too blunted by the effects of alcohol on an empty stomach.

“What do you mean?” You're innocently batting your eyelashes to deliberately piss Kaulitz off. You have flaming crimson cheeks, a naive smile and boundless calmness on your face. Tom's grip became stronger, and it felt like your wrists were going to crack under the pressure. You felt uncomfortable that Tom's arms had completely immobilized you. Below your waist, you start to feel a pleasant, but unbearable stretch at the mere realization of what those nimble hands can do. At concerts, all the audience as one look at the immaculate guitar solo played by those strong fingers. But none of these girls under the stage have any idea what else these fingers are capable of besides plucking strings.

“Don't pretend. Since when are you hanging around my best friend's neck? And you kiss him on the cheek? The best friend on earth, then?!” Kaulitz is already literally hissing with genuine annoyance, and you literally regret that he's completely sober.

“Mmm, don't be such a jealous bitch, Tom..” Your index finger traces his cheek, under which the muscles were tense as never before. The sinister gaze seemed to stop, incinerating the negligent girl's nature, but you really enjoyed making Kaulitz lose his temper, as if it gave you extreme pleasure.

“Yes? Are you sure you want to see what else I can be? Or.. Are you really looking at Georg already? Am I missing something?”

“No, Tom, I...”

“What?! Maybe you could have sat on his lap and rubbed your ass? Great, my girlfriend is acting like a whore!”

“Aren't you acting like a whore? So you can pick up female fans all over the world, but what do you suggest to me – just look at it and be happy? By the way, they're hanging around your neck in whole squads, and you're just glad, you damn womanizer!” You were screaming with genuine resentment and awakened seriousness.

“It's part of my image. And you got so fucked up about it that you decided to use my best friend? Eh?! Answer me!” He was openly mocking me, masking it under anger and burning irritation, which literally hurt my ribs. You listened to every word, but you didn't stop smiling, pretending to be interested and even a little afraid. My legs were shaking slightly, losing their footing, but not from exertion, but from something else.

“Well, at least that's how you noticed that I'm not an empty place for you.. But Georg is like that.. Attentive, caring, humble..” The remnants of withered superiority breed audacity, and for this audacity you have to pay a serious price.

“You've pissed me off, my doll.” He grins wryly, pressing your wrists against the wall itself, literally pouncing on you, showing that the victim, cornered by him, cannot escape. You're frozen and waiting, as if the time has disappeared, and everything around you is so inaccessible and so inanimate, and only a couple of coffee pools are intently scanning, twisting the shutter speed of both. Tom forcefully bites into your lips, now holding you tightly by both forearms and showing all the strength that is many times greater than your fragile body, does not even allow you to take an unnecessary protesting sigh, possessively crushing your pliant lips and tasting the still undissolved taste of champagne. How selfishly Tom rejoiced, feeling the subtle mumbling right on his lips and the way you brazenly bit his piercing, asking for even more, and just as furiously responded to him as much as the opportunity and the growing pressure of the guy allowed.

Tom's hands reach lower, stopping at your waist, and then dangerously close to the literally red border. The urge to get rid of it and finish what he started was already overwhelming and so oppressive, even in his loose pants, and you could feel it. Lips with a vulgar smack come off your scarlet-swollen lips, continuing their torment already lower. No matter how many of them there were, it was always not enough, his body was already shaking in feverish heat from mind-blowing desire generated by anger and possessiveness. You cried out at his peculiar kiss on the neck, finally going limp in his grip and holding onto the T-shirt on your shoulders with your nails. This cry of yours, mixed with anxiety and still hovering tension, generates a whole chain of discordant beats of the organ in your chest, which you completely owned. What Tom voluntarily gave you as a tribute, he made the biggest sacrifice of his life. But now he's still unhappy, biting your pale skin and decorating your body with pink and scarlet markings to know exactly who his girl belongs to. You were genuinely surprised that he had so much strength even after the concert, so much so that your legs were crossed at a firm waist, and under your knees it was like a stone. You could have gone limp in his grip and not even been afraid to fall, so tightly Kaulitz picked you up like a piece of fluff.

“Tom..” Your pleading whisper is lost somewhere in his man bun hair, while the guy confidently carries you towards the dressing table and in one hand literally in a second wipes away everything that was on it – plastic cups, napkins, brushes. A stinging roar instantly rang in his ears, but then again, who cared now? As soon as he saw your parted lips and tangled hair, charmingly covering one side of your chiseled, delicate face, Tom again felt how all the blood from his heart instantly rushes to the plexus under his fly, almost to painful urges.

“So you just didn't have enough of my attention, did you?” With a jerk, Kaulitz got rid of his T-shirt and kept his eyes on you, who was sitting on the dressing table by the mirror.

“Was it already impossible for me to chat with your friends and brother?” The equanimity in your feminine voice is indestructible, which burns a fine line on Tom's nerves.

“Bitch, you're looking for trouble.. Big trouble!” Tom's hands are on either side of you.

“So what are you going to do, Tom?” The sweetly drawn-out name in your voice and the subtle excitement in your body are transmitted by micro-impulses to the male nature, concentrating in the bottom of his stomach, so shamelessly cramping the space under his fly even more.

“You're making me angry on purpose, aren't you?” Tom's hand descends on your neck, gently squeezing. “Better not. Otherwise, you'll regret it, I promise.” Now a real, sticky fear rolled down your spine and froze in your throat. Still, it was scary to feel his tense breathing from above and literally not imagine what Kaulitz was capable of in a fit of uncontrollable anger.

”Tom, please..” Your pleading pronunciation is driving him crazy and twisting his steel self-control. Between you and Tom there is a tense impulse of fucking madness because of the dress that cannot be unbuttoned in any way on your back, and Tom angrily gets rid of the unnecessary fabric by simply pulling the zipper and taking off the dress that he himself bought for you in Milan, over your head and throwing it somewhere over his shoulder. You squirm, unable to move, choking out a hoarse “Tom”, surrendering to his ruthless pressure, and feeling the closeness and the urgent need to feel each other more quickly in every sense. You feel so good when Kaulitz presses down on you, forcing you to lie down on the table, and he comfortably settles between your spread legs. He's breathing heavily himself, as if he's played another concert and all the air has been forcibly drained from his concrete lungs. With a superior, mocking grin, he looks down at you, getting rid of the last interfering element, putting all the desire and impatience into these movements.

“I'll fuck you in every corner of this damn dressing room.. To make you realize that you belong to me.” The logical stress on the last word bites into your thin neck with a fairly noticeable bite. You answer him again with a ragged half-scream, even wincing at the pain of the sensations, as Kaulitz abruptly bit into your neck like a vampire, and then he touched your fresh wound with his heated tongue, without apologizing and adding to the already stuffy atmosphere even more degree. The penetration of Tom's first strong finger into an already insanely wet, heated womb paralyzes you like a discharge of twenty thousand volts, makes you sparkle like a bare wire at a power plant. For Kaulitz, your mumbling becomes the second music pleasant to his ears after the songs of his own band. It's the way you pitifully and strangled repeat his name, impaling yourself on his second finger, begging him to move more sharply, but Tom deliberately delays, plunging into your wet and narrow captivity.

“Beg me louder.” Kaulitz has the upper hand now. Tom himself understands that this is just a postponement to the most cherished, and that he himself will not last long, feeling tight under his fly. You lift your head up, wriggling like a snake, and Tom seems to take pity on you, massaging sensitive points and moving two trained fingers more actively and curling his lips in a half-sneer. He lifts your fragile back with his other hand, prompting you to change the angle, and better allow yourself to hear your precious moans, which are such a sweet balm to his ears and the pride you swatted away. You squeeze tighter, squeezing the man's strong back with your nails for support, tasting the full range of sensations in colors, as his fingers move more nimbly and actively inside you, bringing you to a peak moment. And even now it excites you to think that these fingers are meant just for you. An intense desire wakes up in you to speed up the pace, lean against his wet chest more tightly, scratch his entire back and hear a personal dose of irritated growls and half-moans in your ear.

“Please..” Clutching his shoulders, you get lost in the sensations of the inappropriately slowed pace of Tom's strong fingers from the inside, ready to whine in despair. Tom takes advantage of this and gently bites you in the neck again, planting a new hickey and licking the wounds he had already left on you. And briefly glancing at the mirror behind you, he almost shamelessly cums from the view that opened up to him – your petite back, legs spread apart, loose hair falling to your waist. “It's like she was made for porn.” He thinks cunningly and plunges his phalanges inside you again. He is excited by the thought that now his beloved will not be able to cover his own marks in such a prominent place while it is the height of summer outside. Therefore, it consolidates its success by going down to the collarbones. With a low moan, you slashed your nails across the swarthy glossy skin, causing him to whimper softly. Tom is unhappy. Tom is unhappy because you might cum right now, judging by the ragged pleading whine, and there's absolutely no need for that. In retaliation for this, you want to bite him back, but he doesn't give in, cunningly turning his head, and you have to feel the ticklish touch of his hair strands escaping from man bun on your inflamed skin.

You almost moan into his lips, which dig into the trembling centimeters of pale, moist skin with a new force from the explosive mixture of fear and pleasure. Tom quickly removes his hand and plunges both phalanges into your mouth to make you feel your own sweetness. With his other hand, he hastily pulls down his pants along with his boxers, releasing the cause of his painful urges, already hard, tight and stony, which is unbearable to endure any longer.

“Mine.” With one thrust, he plunges into you abruptly and unceremoniously, grabbing your hips tightly and holding you firmly at the right angle. “Mine..” Then he gently slaps your pale thigh, begging for a moan. You don't have time to adjust to the pace, you get lost in sensations bordering on pain and pleasure again, as from the very first seconds Tom began to intensify his thrusts, penetrating his stone penis literally to your brain cells, to the rainbow scattering in your eyes. Being in a comfortable position under a man's body and crossing your legs at his waist, you cling to his back more tightly than before as the last support, furiously catching his lips, expressing a desire to become one with him, feeling every red-hot cell of his body, every breath, every moment. Kaulitz pushes back roughly, crushing your hips hard, until it hurts, while you cling to his slippery skin, moving on to the scattering of his hair on the back of his head. Tom's strong hand grabs your already wounded neck and turns it to the side so that you don't miss the chance to look at yourself from the outside, even out of the corner of your eye, for a moment your breath even caught, and Tom, sensing this, loosened his grip on you, clinging to this place on your neck with parted wet lips.

“Look carefully!” A hoarse exhale wounds the silence with Tom's characteristic commanding tone. You squirm, accepting all his rudeness, watching as his guitar-worn hands land on your hips with a soft slap, and how exactly your and Tom's doppelgangers in the makeup mirror repeat all these movements. Your wet strands of hair are tangled between his tense fingers, and, trying to get rid of the madness that has come over him again, Tom makes a new forward movement and grabs the ends of your hair tightly, pulling. The fucking necessary power required right now blows his mind and encourages him to cling to your sweet neck, collarbones, breasts to prove who's in charge here. He doesn't even look at the range of emotions on your face, just wanting to restore his superiority and irreplaceability. He may be a stupid little boy, afraid of losing you, but that's exactly what he is, the real one. He breathes raggedly almost into your lips, moving higher again, tracing invisible patterns on your body, and once again pushing inside the seductive warmth with his aching, thirsty cock. And you're pleased to see him, so naked, even helpless, but always strong, domineering, loved, damn it, with two contradictory personalities living inside. You take these emotions and feigned frenzy for granted, completely adapting to his insatiable, thirsty rhythm and listening to his sighs, becoming one with him.

The undulating bodies moving on top of each other, glittering in the light of the lamps, completely repeat the movements from the mirror surface. And as soon as Tom catches sight of it, a desire awakens inside him to continue, but more sharply, like the surf hitting the rocks with a loud noise, so much so as to make you freeze with pleasure from each of his movements, already increasing in amplitude and frequency, like a starved beast gutting its victim writhing on the dressing table, pitiful squeaks, taking millimeter by millimeter of burning skin into its power, biting your neck, scorching your collarbones with his breath and holding your graceful legs tightly crossed on his strong male belt under your knees.

You pressed yourself into his neck, leaving a small retaliatory hickey as Kaulitz temporarily let his guard down. You beg, plead with him to move faster, to really make your eyes bloom with bright rainbow colors. You loved having sex with Tom in places like this, because the extremes, his own pressure, and peculiar risk aroused you better than various foreplay. You're still whispering his name next to his ear, exhaling painfully into his wet, scratched shoulder. His sighs form into full-fledged moans in response, and you realize that he is already close. Because that's how Tom moans, only when discharge is already close and approaching by leaps and bounds. But he's still pressing into you, also holding you under the small of your back for the best angle, breathing hotly into your collarbone and barely audibly sobbing from touching your nails to the fresh scratches covered with perspiration. He thrusts greedily, exploding under the onslaught of his own hot nature, still not losing his goal to break so deep that the whole corridor can hear your deafening, longed-for scream. And he doesn't care what his brother, bandmates, or the rest of the staff say later. He doesn't care about that. With a loud growl, Tom comes, holding your unresisting body more tightly under him, not moving himself for a while, but still pulsating inside the coveted, warm tightness that is designed specifically for him, exploding with another chain of micro-explosions, like bright fireworks on a dark night, flowing between your thighs with a whitish viscosity. And you and Tom were still motionless, both of you, catching your frantically ragged breath. And now he gives you the opportunity to look into his eyes clouded with flaming sweetness and hug him by the neck, touching his hair in an already disheveled man bun, pull him closer to you and give him a warm, now truly tender kiss.

“Tom..” You emit directly into his lips, tracing the contour of his face with your finger, tickling your own skin with his beard, tracing all the perfections and non-existent imperfections, admiring the perspiration on his forehead, long fluffy eyelashes that are still trembling anxiously, admiring how he is now, exclusively for you alone, not at all for those girls who flirt in vain at concerts and they'll never get a thousandth of the kind of heaven that's reserved for you, and you're thrilled about it.

“Do you understand now that it's better not to anger me?” Tom's smiling exhale and his fingers on your chin, encouraging you to look directly at him.

“Mm, I'll think about it..” You're flirting jokingly, tilting your head to the side. “If you don't piss me off anymore first.”

“You're shameless..” Kaulitz's quiet voice stirs you up from the inside to little goosebumps on your skin, turning into a long kiss on the shoulder. “And I really love you like this.”

“Which one is it?”

“When you're ready to show how much you love me, you come up with something like that, my princess..”

You want to memorize every relaxed emotion of Tom, touch his face with your fingers again. And he means by his whole appearance that he likes this kind of game. And you want to admire forever how his eyes burn even brighter than all the heavenly stars in almost black pools and share their endless warmth that will cover even in the most dank cold.

“But it doesn't have to be done at all. I am only yours..” He whispered affectionately, plastering his cheek against your palm like a kitten, tickling you with his beard again. Tom leans over you, watching the humility and then complete acceptance flounder in the palette of your gaze, carefully stroking the skin of your cheeks, delicately running his thumb, removing the interfering dark strands behind your ear and simply admiring you.

“The sly one!” A kiss on his lips and now complete calmness. “Then.. I'll try to make you more angry next time..”

It's so unfair that the almighty force separates people who understand each other by such distances, surrounding them with the wrong people. But what's even worse is that these people can find each other on the internet, knowing that it's unlikely that they will ever meet in real life.

Hate to say that the only person who gets me right now lives more than 13.000 kms away from me :/

I highly recommend for y'all to come up with your own posts and fics. I promise it's way better to get feedback about something when you do it yourself :)

Long story short, stop copying me or you will be blocked! 𝜗ৎ

OH MY GOD, IT'S A PICTURE OF BILL.. MY HEART STOPS BEATING PROPERLY. I REALLY NEED HIM SO BAD!!!

I'm not special till it comes to you;

You spin around inside my head, your fingers closed tight around my heart, reminding and intoxicating me of your need for love.

Want me to the marrow—pull me close, bite down on my weak knees so I can't go anywhere.

God, how can I forget?

When all I can think about is how your devotion compels me.

Path to Redemption

PAIRINGS: Bill 2010 x female reader

GENRE: fluff & smut

SYNOPSIS: The young man's dry lips touched your neck with a smeared kiss, and the man's hand rested on your narrow waist, feeling the pleasant silk fabric under the pads of his fingers. “Am I forgiven?” Bill asked hopefully, continuing to kiss your slender neck. “I don't know,” You said mockingly, turning your head to the side, meeting the black eyes opposite.

WARNINGS: drunk sex

A/N: english is not my native language! It's a bit short and without details, sorry. I want to thank everyone very much for such activity, it's the first time for me to receive so much attention, thank you all very much!!

A light breeze gently penetrated into the bedroom, bringing with it the freshness of springtime. The silence, interrupted from time to time by the passing sounds of cars, created a calm atmosphere. The wall clock, which had already marked one o'clock ten minutes ago, reminded of the passing time. In the midst of all this, in a comfortable hotel room, you were quietly falling asleep, comfortably wrapped in starched snow-white blankets. You were breathing peacefully, periodically turning from one side to the other. But the sound of the door opening, as well as the attempt to close it as quietly as possible, was clearly a failure, because your sensitive hearing detected the appearance of someone else. This "someone" clumsily tried to take off his huge black shoes, and also grumbled with displeasure at the next setback.

You recognized that grunting and barely heard swearing in German right away. Sleepily standing on the cold floor, you gave up trying to find your slippers, going to the source of the sounds with your bare feet. The culprit of your unlucky dream was leaning on a locker in the hallway, trying to keep his balance, which obviously wasn't going well. The young man was standing with his back hunched over, and the familiar light windbreaker had long been lying a little apart from the shelf. You crossed your arms, watching your boyfriend's clumsiness, as well as his futile attempts to do something.

“Help?” Suddenly, a woman's voice made Bill start and turn around sharply. You were standing nearby in a dark blue nightgown, watching with a barely visible grin.

Exhaling in relief, the guy broke into a drunken smile. “Baby, you scared me.” He replied hoarsely, straightening up.

“Can you imagine how you scared me with your loud bang? I thought someone was after me!” You chuckled, coming closer.

“I'm sorry. I really tried to be as quiet as possible..” With typical Kaulitz sincerity, he apologized, lowering his head.

You softened your gaze by taking a man's hand in yours. “I heard you got hurt during the concert today, does it hurt much?” You asked with genuine concern, running your fingers over Bill's bandaged hand.

“It's okay, but I almost fainted from the sight of blood.” The brunette giggled.

“And you decided to forget what you saw with the help of booze? Or what? You usually prefer not to drink too much, but now you can't even take off your shoes on your own!” You shook your head, squatting down, helping him out of the high platform of his favorite boots.

“I didn't mean to. The guys just insisted and wouldn't let go!” Somehow taking off his uncomfortable shoes, the guy continued: “I told them that my princess was waiting for me, but they didn't believe it..”

“Just don't suck up now. You know perfectly well that I'm angry!” You furrowed your eyebrows, continuing: “I was hoping that at least today we would spend the evening together, but instead, you're back with your band, which you're almost married to!” Rolling your eyes, you blurted out, walking back towards the bedroom.

Kaulitz immediately hurried after your departing figure, tripping over the damn carpet in his manner. A guy on his own often bumps into something, and if he's not sober, he can fall or injure himself out of the blue. Cursing the stupid carpet, Bill followed you into the bright bedroom and saw you sitting on the edge of the bed with your back to him. And he's willing to bet that you're frowning at the panoramic window right now, pursing your lips into a thin line. After standing at the door for a while, he slowly walked deeper into the small room, sitting on the edge of the bed on the opposite side. The singer's head was spinning now because of the whiskey he had drunk, and nothing came to mind but to crawl up from behind and hug the fragile female shoulders, circling, hugging.

“Well, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to upset you..” He apologized softly, hugging you tighter, burying himself somewhere in your collarbone. You didn't say anything, still sitting with your arms crossed. “Do you want to come back here to Paris after the world tour? Just you and me. What do you say?” Kaulitz was already taking more significant actions. If only the ice between you would melt and you would stop sulking.

“Really?” You asked the question softly, with a less caustic tone.

“It's really true..” The brunette whispered in your ear, feeling the girl's tense shoulders relax, meaning that the guy had found a point of contact. The young man's dry lips touched your neck with a smeared kiss, and the man's hand rested on your narrow waist, feeling the pleasant silk fabric under the pads of his fingers.

“Am I forgiven?” Bill asked hopefully, continuing to kiss your slender neck.

“I don't know,” You said mockingly, turning your head to the side, meeting the black eyes opposite: “I still have an unpleasant sediment.” Your slender hand touched the singer's sharp cheekbone, gently stroking.

“I will do everything so that you no longer feel this "sediment".” The young man said reassuringly, before clinging to your parted lips. The native taste with notes of the distant sensation of "Glenfarclas" on the tongue surprised you. How long does Scottish alcohol last that even after such a long time you can catch the familiar taste of bitterness. Every touch of the skin, every movement of the lips is perceived by your senses, making you tremble from the energy that permeates from the inside. Bill ran his hot tongue over your lower lip, as usual, pulled in your upper lip, and then deepened the kiss to the bright stars in your eyes.

Kaulitz gradually moved to your sharp collarbones, slightly biting the pale skin, leaving small marks. You tilted your head to the side, giving more space for the greedy kisses that the German so passionately gave. Soft moans escaped from your lips, your eyelashes trembled slightly with pleasure, the thin strap of your nightgown was brazenly lowered under the influence of Bill's hands, exposing elastic female breasts. Completely relaxed, you leaned against the guy with your whole body, and, placing your head on his shoulder, moaned once again when Bill's cold palms touched your erect nipples. The contrast between hot breath on your neck and cold hands on your chest made your head spin, and Bill's arousal pressing against your lower back made it clear that you weren't the only one in a difficult position right now.

The manicured nails of the guy scratched the inside of your thigh, adding sharpness. Bill bit his lips until they bled, just not to moan with you in unison, because just the feeling of a pliant body in his own hands, caressing sighs full of pleasure, and the damn strong pressure of tight jeans pushed him to whine pitifully with impatience. Cold hands picked you up and laid you on the bed, and Kaulitz himself hung over you, looking at you with undisguised lust. He wanted to tear off the remnants of the rags hiding your seductive girlish body, and with the same fervor squeeze you into himself, taking everything without a trace. But instead, the brunette slowly lifted the hem of your dress up, throwing the already noticeably wet underwear aside. You were incredibly glad that the lights were off and you wouldn't have to be embarrassed by your nakedness again. But even so, the singer still stared there, licking his lips hungrily.

“Devil! Bill, stop looking! How many times have I asked!” Shyly squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to close your thighs. But the man's hands crossed the desire to hide, spreading your legs back anyway.

“It's not the first time we've done this, so why are you still so shy?” The German chuckled, continuing: ”You're just very beautiful..”

“God, spare me such compliments, especially those made at such a moment!” With your eyes fixed on the side, you asked.

“Good. I will not. Just don't stop looking at me.”Cuddling between my thighs, the guy gave me an ultimatum. Your eyes met the deep black depths again, into which it seemed it would be ideal to plunge and stay forever in this mysterious darkness.

“And why do you get so bold when you drink? You don't set any conditions for me when you're sober.”

Kaulitz didn't say anything, just gently brushed his lips over your inner thigh, knocking your breath away. The coffee-colored eyes still seemed to stare into your very soul, and the rough tongue stroked your crotch tightly, tearing a sweet moan from you. The wet flesh took the caresses extremely well, constantly contracting as his metal piercing bead teasingly slid over your sensitive spot. Pressing his fingers against the front wall of your vagina, Bill found the G spot and continued to stimulate your clitoris with his tongue.

The room was filled with wet sounds, vulgar smacking and feminine sighs. The hot tongue collected the plentifully flowing lubricant, preventing at least one drop of the thick liquid from leaking. Your hands are buried in the guy's black, coarse hair, generously varnished, pulling his face closer. Your hips instinctively moved towards him in order to enhance the sensations. The pace increased and the moans became louder each time, signaling that very soon you would reach the peak. Kaulitz knew all your weaknesses too well, and he took advantage of them. Not a single movement of the nimble tongue remained unnoticed, causing an irresistible range of emotions.

“Bill..” You whispered his name, thereby tearing down the German's tower completely. He fucking loved it when you moaned his name uncontrollably. “I'm going to..” Your toes curled up, your back arched, and a high-pitched scream indicated that you had reached your climax. You collapsed back onto the pillow, panting and squinting your eyes. Bill pulled away from your limp body, finally licking the remnants of lube on his lips, looking with shining eyes at the work done, and the result, without words, was excellent. Kaulitz's trademark half-smile formed by itself, too pleased, cat-sweet.

“Do I deserve your forgiveness now?” He whispered, running his nose over your cheekbone.

“Quite.” You chuckled wearily. Your gaze dropped to Bill's jeans, which were still bulging with an erection, causing a quiet laugh. “Come to me..” You pulled him towards you, luring him into a kiss.

The whole night is still ahead.

He would look much better sitting on my bed

꧁ Love when he s͟i͟t͟s on stage ♥️

I WANT TO EAT BILL ALONG WITH THE BONES

꧁ I'd swallow Poison —If it Tasted like You. 🐈‍⬛

Nuestro amor, tan prohibido.

Llamas mi nombre y me acaricias con tu amargura mientras mis uñas circulan sobre tu estómago, con saña—pidiendo desgarrarte.

Déjame colarme dentro, compañera; tumbarme ahí, contigo.

Dormir dentro de tí.

Perecer dentro de tí.

୧ ⊹︶︶

I'm so glad that he can do whatever he wants now, I think self expression is the most beautiful thing one can have.

I took this picture btw. 🪽

This tour was everything to me, the outfits were absolutely incredible. I can't wait to see what he's gonna wear on the next one! :)