I'm Still Trying To Figure This App Out. I Want Moots That Are Into Tokio Hotel Mostly Though So Keep

You're a victim to your own desires

It turned me on like hell, but I never thought that other works by this gorgeous author would make me commit suicide

༺ Tw: NSFW

★ Bill 2008 x reader.

★ Gender neutral.

★ Oral fetish.

░͟ ₊˚Imagine he's eating you out,

I know that mouth works wonders. I bet he loves giving head and watch you squirming around everytime you feel the touch of his piercing's cold bead on your sweet spot, just to make you taste yourself after you finish on his tongue everytime. 'You're so sweet' he tells you after he licks his own lips, savoring the taste of you once more; completely ecstatic about the way your legs wrap themselves around his head almost automatically whenever he makes you cum, over and over again. He's like a dog, insatiable, desperate for you; He'll even beg and cry for it, he works his tongue like it's gonna be his last meal.

━╋

He likes when you pull on his hair, definitely; searching for your eyes just so he knows it feels just as good, and readjusting his head right where you want him to be. He gets so worked up by just pleasuring you, he can't help himself but to try and grind agaisnt the mattress at the same time, just so you'd end up telling him to wait.

He whines, but he listens because he secretly likes when you handle him. In the end, he'll end up cumming on his pants, letting out a 'Fuck'. under his breath. Completely overwhelmed by your expressions and the way you sound while he's sucking you dumb. ୧ ⊹︶︶

I'M READY TO BREAK MY KNEES TILL BLOOD, I'M READY TO CHOKED BY HIS HANDS, I'M READY TO GOUGOUT MY EYES SO HE'S THE LAST ONE I EVER SEE

—Bill Kaulitz, 2009. ໒꒱

Art of Loving

PAIRINGS: Bill 2009 x female reader

GENRE: fluff & smut

SYNOPSIS: “Your mom hates me..” She'll definitely yell at him if she sees all those hickeys you gave him. Bill laughs with you, snuggling closer to himself. “Don't worry,” he starts, playing with your hair. “My mom hates me too..”

WARNINGS: sex, p in v, poor relationship with mother, eating disorder, self-esteem issues

A/N: english is not my native language! I'll say in advance that there is a time discrepancy here, since Bill's piercing described in the story was done later.

A strong wind and heavy rain were running through the streets of Magdeburg. Thunder roared in the thick clouds, and lightning frolicked somewhere nearby. The streets of Magdeburg are damp and fresh. People are gloomily walking about their business, busily holding colored umbrellas over their heads. But you and Bill are in your warm, cozy apartment, drinking raspberry tea and sitting on the balcony, watching people and dogs jumping merrily through shallow puddles.

“Hey, Schatz?” Bill's hoarse voice distracted from the dampness of the city.

You flinch and look at him. “Yes, Bill?” There's a cigarette smoldering in your hands. You and Bill.. Old friends.

His pale honey-colored eyes are directed into yours, and he asks with full seriousness, frowning: “Would you love me if I were a worm?”

You laugh out loud, hiding your face in your hands. Bill is still serious. Through your laughter, you say, “Listen, have you been taking anything?” You put out your cigarette on the iron railing of the balcony.

The brunette mutters indignantly, “I'm just curious! Well, answer me seriously!” He frowns and purses his lips resentfully.

“Okay, okay. Yes Bill, I will.” You smile and kiss Bill's broken knuckles, his wounds contrasting strongly against his pale skin. You're frowning. “Where did you get your knuckles hurt like that?”

The grin on his pale face began to play. “I hit the wall, Schatz. Because I'm an angry teenager.”

You let out a small laugh and stroke his hands. “An angry teenager who is 19 years old? Very interesting.” Bill rolls his eyes and clucks.

“And why did you hit the wall? She didn't do anything to you.” You mock him, you smile.

The brunette shakes his head, leaning his hands on the railing, rubbing his painted eyes. “She called me a jerk. What an idiot. Can you believe it?” He looks at you hopefully. You shake your head, laughing, and pull him by the back of his head, gently kissing his mole under his lower lip.

Kaulitz lifts the corners of his lips. “I don't deserve you, Schatz. You're amazing.. I'm just a piece of trash.”

“Stop it, Bill. Your depression shouldn't affect my attitude towards you in any way. You're wonderful.” You easily lift his black sweater, run your fingers over his protruding ribs.

Bill is painfully thin.. He smiles, wincing slightly at the tickle. “Okay, okay, but I still don't understand how you can love me after all that I've done. You're crazy, Schatz. You're an alien.”

“You've revealed my secret!” You laugh softly and kiss his thin, pale neck, removing his dark dreadlocks so as not to interfere.

Kaulitz lifts you up in his arms, holding you by the buttocks. “Come on! I've been waiting for this for so long! Give me your sweet lips..”

You shake your head and frown. “Bill, I'm fat, don't lift me up.” You kiss his neat nose. You can't kiss, it'll cloud your minds, blow your mind off. You feel like he's putting you on the balcony railing. Dangerous. Nice.

Bill presses his weathered, rough lips to yours, the taste of nicotine and berries in his mouth, the wind blows harder, hugs your shoulders, plays with the hem of your shirt, under which only underwear is. “You and I are such good friends, aren't we?” You're smiling, mocking me again.

You feel Bill kissing your neck, gently but biting. See how his hands are shaking. Just a second ago, you were just standing there and having a heart-to-heart conversation. He kisses you wetly and buries his long fingers in your hair. The night sky is covered with stars, like rhinestones on a black velvet fabric.

You wrap your long legs around his pelvis, wrap your frozen fingers around his neck. He holds you tightly by the waist, preventing you from falling from the tenth floor. Your short hair is blowing in the wind, his eyes are completely black, the pupil overlaps his bright amber iris. Tears are streaming from your eyes, you don't understand why.

He whispers, breathing heavily, “I.. Love you..” Lips are joining, rain and wind are hitting in the face, teeth are trembling from the cold. Your bodies are hot despite the cold outside. The skin touches, burning each other. You can feel him biting your tongue and lips. Heartbeat is pounding in temples, and ears are throbbing. Bill's hands creep under your thin shirt, stroke your delicate skin, he does not leave your lips, kisses are more and more ragged, dirty, wet.

Your chest is heaving. Both of them have wet hair from the rain. Bill looks into your eyes, and.. Smiling. You smile back and hold him close, massage his scalp, catch a sigh from his lips. You drop your head on his shoulder, breathing heavily.. You laugh and kiss his bare collarbone: “Your mom hates me..” She'll definitely yell at him if she sees all those hickeys you gave him.

Bill laughs with you, snuggling closer to himself. “Don't worry,” he starts, playing with your hair. “My mom hates me too. She always hated all my girlfriends. She still wants me to be with that empty-headed blonde from my school, her friend's daughter. But I don't give a fuck.. I'm not doing this for her, but for you.” He hugs you tighter and kisses you on the forehead.

You smile and kiss his plump, bitten lips. “Stop biting them, seriously.”

“I can't, Schatz.” He gently kisses your neck, the touch of his lips makes goosebumps run through your body. His hair tickles your body. Some gloomy passerby shouts at you, calling your actions disgusting and depraved, and that you shouldn't do it, because people see them.

Bill pulls away from your lips, looks at you coldly and gives him his middle finger. He looks back at you and kisses you on the forehead. “Do you want more, Schatz?”

“Pervert.” You kiss his nose. Bill has tongue piercings, eyebrows, septum, and snake bites lips. You gently run your thumb over his lip piercing. “Your mom scolded you for the punctures, didn't she?” You're smiling slyly. Bill gently kisses your finger.

“She tried to stop me, but I'm 19, and I do whatever I want with my body. With her screams, she even gives more reason to disobey.” He lets out a chuckle. Bill's mother thinks you're spoiling him. You have a lot of piercings yourself. He lifts his hands under your shirt and runs his icy fingers over your hot skin.

“By the way.. How's your math score? Does your mom already know?” You stroke his face, kiss his forehead, and remove the strands of hair that get in his way.

“She doesn't know yet. The mother will scream, again. She's always screaming about everything.” He kisses you behind the ear, and softly whispers, “Let's skip school tomorrow? Let's say you're sick. We'll be alone in my room all night. Just you and me..”

“I'd love to, but this will be your fifth absenteeism in a month. You'll be expelled, and your mother will hate me even more.” You smile and laugh briefly, even though it's not really funny at all.

He kisses your whole face. “I don't care. I absolutely don't give a fuck about my mother and my studies, I'm so tired of this shit. The only thing I care about is you. You and my desires. Will you stay with me tomorrow, or are we going to continue our argument all night?”

“I love you.” You're kissing his own plump lips. “But, let's take all the exams for five first, okay? I'll help you fix the deuce. Especially considering that you've already passed 4 exams perfectly! Now pass the math and that's it!” You stroke his hair. “What are you going to do after school?”

He strokes your face and kisses your ear, whispers in a hoarse voice: “I haven't decided yet, I have at least a month ahead of me. But first, I'm going to do some wonderful things with you tonight..”

You smile and slap him on the forehead. “You're good at drawing. Why don't you go to an art academy? Like me.”

He kisses you and squeezes you like you're a toy. Finally he pulls away. “Well, I'll think about it. But I don't know. Maybe I'll accept your offer.”

Three weeks have passed since that day. Bill's mother kicked him out of the house when he told her that he was going to art academy, and not to study medicine, as she wanted. Actually, it was expected, so now he lives with you, in your apartment.

Today is an important day - Bill's graduation. You stand and stare at him when he comes on stage to collect his red diploma for his patience and hard work. You're very proud of him.

He was dressed in a classic black suit, and a dark red tie stood out against his snow-white shirt. Yours, by the way. A short jacket was draped over his shoulders, loose trousers were put on, and he tied his dreadlocks into a low ponytail, not wanting to annoy the director with his appearance even more. He was so incredibly handsome and terribly uninterested in the praise of the director and the many teachers who came out to say their last words to him. Most of the students in the junior, middle and senior grades were crying from the realization that they would not see him again.

His father is standing next to you, and on the other side is Tom, who has already collected his diploma. The mother of the twins did not attend the ceremony, being offended, because besides her, everyone supported your relationship with Bill. His family is very proud of him, looking at him with smiles on their faces.

Bill catches your eye and winks, waving his hand at you. He fascinated you with his appearance. You smile and wave back at him, playfully blowing him a kiss. Bill is embarrassed when he finally picks up his "cherished" diploma, he comes down to you, and you meet him with a large bouquet of white daffodils. He takes your hand, smiling happily, and takes a step back, pulling you in so that you don't interfere with the other graduates and their parents. You rise on tiptoe, you feel his happy, loving gaze on you. He kisses you on the cheek, blushing, and you can hear his sweet laugh for a couple of moments, as if the world ceases to exist around you, as if you are alone in the whole boundless universe. You hear loud screams and applause. The boys from the twelfth grade released a pair of white pigeons into the sky.

“Congratulations, my graduate!” You're smiling.

Bill's father and Tom come up to Bill and hug him tightly, patting him on the shoulder, congratulating him on graduating from high school with excellent grades. Bill smiles sheepishly. Many of his friends and acquaintances also congratulated and said goodbye to him. But his eyes were only on me.

“I did it only because of you, Schatz. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have graduated with good grades.” He kisses your cheekbone with his rough lips, and then you can feel them on your lips.

“I'm proud of you!” You kiss him on the forehead, hugging him tightly.

Time has passed, Bill is already in his second year of fashion design, and you are in your third year of architecture. You're sitting together on the bedroom floor in your cozy little apartment. Bill makes sketches for his new collection of clothes, and you build accurate building plans. Kaulitz leans towards you, keeping his hand on your hip. You see that he uses you as a reference, like a living mannequin.

You stare at him and blush when he looks up at you with his piercing brown eyes. “What are you drawing, Bill?”

“I'm painting you, Schatz. You look like a model.”

You bend over to him and kiss his temple, seeing his satisfied smile. He wraps his long fingers around your face and lowers himself down, kissing your neck, whispering in your ear: “You don't even know how often I draw you.. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. And this beauty exists only for me. You're like a rare diamond that I'm hiding in my hands..”

He kisses your neck again, going down to the hollows of your collarbones, his hands slide up and down your thighs, gently scratching them with his black nails and squeezing, leaving barely visible traces. You smile and kiss his cheeks, stroking them with your thumbs.

“We should not be distracted from our work. The session is coming up, which means that the teachers won't be very happy if they see that we haven't drawn anything yet.” You touch your lips to the mole under his lower lip.

He clicks. “We can't, you're right, but I can't concentrate when you're next to me, honey. Your presence is already making me forget everything. You are my universe.” You can feel his hot lips on your neck, again. He whispers, scorching your thin skin with his hot breath: “My dear..” He kisses you on the line of your lower jaw. “My love.” His lips slide sideways, onto your adam's apple, biting weakly. “My diamond.” He's grabbing your artery with his teeth. “My everything.” He runs a wet path with his tongue. “I love you, Schatz.”

His lips are right next to your ear, his tongue is playing with the auricle, and his lobe with several metal rings is being playfully bitten. A wave of goosebumps envelops your body. You pull him by the back of his head and kiss his sweet, plump lips. You feel him sitting you on his lap, running your fingers over his chest through his black T-shirt, gently massaging his tense, tired shoulders. Bill either sighs or moans, throws his head back, wraps his arms around your waist, running his fingers along your back. His tongue slides between your lips, moistening you better than any lipstick, he lays you back on the cold floor, strewn with your sketchy works. Some of them stay under you, but it's not that fucking important. The only thing that matters to you right now is him. And the works can be redrawn.

Your bodies are pressed against each other, his lips don't leave yours, and you can feel him breathing heavily. He pulls away from you, but he's still holding you tight. He takes off his T-shirt, and you look at his big tattoo on his left side. Beautiful. Your legs were wrapped around his pelvis, your body trembled with anticipation in his arms. He smiles at you tenderly, picks you up in his arms and gently lays you on the bed, taking out a lubricant and condoms from the bedside table. He's kissing you again.

“What would you like to do today, honey? Standard or..” His lips stretch into a twisted grin.

“Pervert..” You lightly pinch his forearm and feel how he roughly turns you over on your stomach, lifting you up, forcing you to arch your back. Bill carefully places several pillows under you, adjusting the height that is comfortable for both of you.

“That's what I'm talking about, Schatz.” He presses his chest against your naked body, biting and kissing the back of your neck. He kisses your ear, bites your earlobe. You can feel the young man descending lower, showering your entire back with kisses and hickeys, leaving traces of his teeth in some places. His belt buckle is cold, metallic, pressed against your belt. Kaulitz sinks lower, you can feel his hot breath below.

Bill bites his buttock, kisses it, and massages the other with his strong hand. His lips slide down the inside of your thighs, to your bent knees and calves. He rises higher again, his lips touching you below. You're trembling with pleasure. He savors it, running his tongue between your labia and collecting moisture, smacking his lips, stroking your thighs and buttocks. His cold tongue piercing touches your clitoris, and with a loud groan, you jump up in bed as if you've been electrocuted. You can hear him chuckle.

Bill kisses slowly, wetly, sucks each crease in turn, and you feel his piercing ball gently sink into the hole, making you sob. Bill slides his hot and damn long tongue into your vagina, making you moan. His tongue slides over the wet walls, draws patterns, rubs the barbell in his tongue. You bury your face in the pillow, sobbing loudly and moving your hips towards it. Bill penetrates you with his fingers, without removing his tongue, and leaves a slap on your buttock as you lean forward, slipping away from him. His fingers spread inside in the manner of scissors, stroking the walls, moving like a wave, while he kisses your back, whispering reassuringly in your ear. You can't make out anything anymore.

“Princess..” His fingers work faster and rougher, penetrating deeper, scratching the walls. You sob loudly and move your hips towards him. You're close to the peak, and Bill knows it. He smiles slyly and slows down terribly much. His lips travel down your spine, leaving wet trails. Soon his fingers leave you altogether, with an indecent squish. Impatiently, you hear his belt buckle rattle and his jeans rustle as he throws them away.

You can feel him opening the lubricant and gently sliding his cold, greased fingers into you. A groan escapes from chest. Bill puts his cock in, sliding slowly and carefully deeper and deeper, making you moan. His hands gently stroke your hips, and he begins his movement. His thrusts are smooth, sensual. Bill carefully pulls your short hair into a ponytail and kisses your neck. You swallowed hard, your adam's apple twitched, and Kaulitz ran his long fingers curiously over it. He squeezed your throat experimentally, and you sob, throwing your head back in pleasure, closing your eyes. You want it to never end.

His thrusts gradually accelerate, the bed starts to creak softly, and Bill thrusts into you more fiercely. With each strong thrust, his hand tightens more noticeably on your neck, pulling more and more moans out of you. His rhythm is frenzied, the skin of his thighs collides with his buttocks, creating indecent slaps, natural lubricant and purchased oil mix and squish. Bill breathes raggedly, occasionally does not hold back and moans, driving his cock deeper, sharper, whispers compliments, kissing and biting hard on your shoulders, his voice occasionally breaks. He slows down abruptly, trying to catch his breath, teasing, barely swinging his hips. Holds you firmly in place, not giving you the opportunity to move back.

“Ask me, honey.. Ask for it, Schatz..” He's breathing heavily, his hands are shaking, squeezing your hips.

“Bill.. Bill, please.. please..”

He smiles contentedly and starts thrusting roughly, squeezing your ass and thighs painfully, moaning. The moment of climax overtakes you at the same time, he abruptly enters you as deeply as possible, and through a thin condom you feel his hot sperm. You're breathing heavily. You feel Bill pick you up in his arms and carry you to the bathroom..

You're both tired but happy, you're lying on Bill's chest, tickling him with your wet hair. His black T-shirt absorbs moisture. You're slowly falling asleep. Your drawings were still lying on the floor.

“Thank you for this wonderful evening, Schatz.” He kisses you on the forehead, smiling like a fool. You kiss the corner of his mouth and bite the guy's lower lip, gently pulling back his piercing and releasing it, fully kissing his plump lips.

“I love you.”

“And I love you more, baby.” He takes your hand and gently kisses your fingers. His lips slide to your wrists, nibbling lightly on the thin skin. You bury your fingers in his damp hair, and you feel yourself finally falling asleep.

The only thing you hear is this.. “Good night, Schatz. You deserve it. I hope you'll see me in your dreams.” He lifts the corners of his lips and you pass out.

Still, it's a good story.

Just about the two of you.

DAMN REAL, BILL + LADY GAGA = MY DEATH

— Bill is so G.U.Y coded.

I'm gonna say the word

And own you

You'll be my G.I.R.L

Guy, I'm romancin' love's to hold you

Know you'll wear my make-up well

I'm gonna wear the tie,

want the power to leave you

I'm aiming for full control of this love.

'Billy is not ok' album;

I haven't heard the fandom talk about it once in the two years I've been listening to Tokio Hotel, I fear it's terribly underrated.

☆ It's such a good one though, all the songs are amazing, specially 'Odds are agaisnt us'. They all have such a summer/going through a heartbreak vibe to it. It's clear Bill put so much love into this project back then.

☆ I heard there was an official website before, where it sold a vinyl with 'Love don't break' as long as I know of, and a beautiful artbook. (here are some pics) But I don't know if there has been an actual release of the album, I can't find it anywhere.

| ͜ᩘ❀༘ࣧ Do y'all know anything about it?

He's so precious, I love the sound of his voice and the way his mouth moves to the side occasionally at the same time his eyebrows does. I wish I could see him talk all day.

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..”

I fear I have something inappropriate to say.

Tom's expression.. dilf dilf dilf. And Bill's black short hair, yum. I love this era so bad. Safe to say it's one of my favorite ones!

Perfection, if you ask me