IT'S SO REAL!!!

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@ expertglazer on pinterest !!

—Bill with spikes & black fur, my favorites

Happy birthday, to the lover of the night. :)

I'M CRYING, I'M SORRY!! WHERE DID SHE EVEN GET THIS FROM? I'VE BEEN HERE FOR LITERALLY A HUNDRED YEARS AND I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THIS!! JUST LOOK AT HOW SMART AND SWEET SHE IS!!!

do u take requests?? :3

Yes, sure! I want to say that everyone can leave me a request if they want to do so, so go ahead for those who have not done so yet

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..”

FUCKING GOD, IT STUCK IN MY HEART LIKE A REFLECTION OF MY OWN FEELINGS, IT WAS IMPRINTED IN MY BRAIN LIKE A WHISPER OF THE SAME REASONING, IT LEFT MARKS ON MY BODY LIKE SCRATCHES FROM DIGGING NAILS INTO MY SKIN WHILE I WAS TRYING TO HOLD BACK MY SCREAM TO FINISH READING IT, AND ONLY THEN DO I LET MY FACE SINK INTO THE PILLOW AND SCREAM. I WILL PRAY FOR THIS, AS WELL AS FOR THE SPEEDY RELEASE OF THE CONTINUATION OF THIS MIRACLE. JUST LOOK AT WHAT A MASTERPIECE FRIEND I HAVE, SHE IS LITERALLY MY CHANCE OF SALVATION, AND I AM SO PROUD OF HER BECAUSE SHE DESERVES MORE ATTENTION TO HER POSTS, EACH OF WHICH MAKES MORE SENSE THAN IN MY LIFE..

— 2nd Chapter: Not over you.

"I can't escape, I can't erase you."

★ Fem!reader x Bill Kaulitz 2016.

★ Tags: Angst, fluff.

| Summary: Bill gets back to his roots; he leaves the city in which he had fallen in love for the first time, trying to forget his now ex-girlfriend—But soon he understands he's not over her yet.

• Bill narrates;

I've left California—moved away from what I've loved most in my life... the excuse? that I did it just for her, to not dig in the wound any further. In reality? I did it to get away of it all, exactly as selfish as it sounds.

I try and search for a meaning, for something that would keep me alive through this insanity, but when I close my eyes she's all I see.

I wish I could lose my other me; this has really messed me up this time.

While I was saying my last goodbye to her, picking up my last few things from her place; I repeated in my head over and over that I wouldn't regret this, none of it. But now it's been months of this back and forth of feelings that I can't even put a label on myself.

'I need to put an end to this.'

I've never felt this way before.. lost, you could say. I can't even recognize me—yeah, when I was with her it wasn't easy, but at least I knew what I wanted, her love.. her warmth. Being able to have someone to go to when I felt like I wanted to hide away from the world.

I need something to ground me, someone, whatever it is. While I was in my high, promising myself that everything would be fine—I've hung in the club on weekends, gotten home with different girls every night, hooked up with them.. but right after, they'd leave and there was nothing else behind that.

It felt empty, far from what I've been looking for: to feel the same way I've felt with her before everything got this fucked up. Because no matter what, I still search for that feeling in someone who isn't her.

Even though, as much as I try I can't get involved emotionally with anyone else. 'Cause everytime, the graphic memory of that beautiful smile appears at the back of my mind as well as all our time spent together.

And god knows I've felt guilty, like it was something I wasnt supposed to be doing, like I was betraying her.. she was still sacred to me somehow.

But I can't get home to her, and I definitely can't face my broken heart.

I stand in front of the bathroom sink, the dim lights and the foggy mirror making it hard for me to look at myself—my hand wipes it down, the clinking sound of my golden rings against the glass.. and I take a deep breath.

'I need a change' I talk to my reflection. That was it, I had to try to get rid of everything that was linked to her, and that also meant myself at some point.

I run a hand through my silver locks, while with the other, I quickly reach for the electric shaver that I've been eyeing all week.. so I plug it on, taking a deep breath before I make it land on my head after hearing the buzzing noise coming out of it when I pressed the little button—I don't even hesitate, I know what I've got to do.

From one moment to another, I see big lumps of hair starting to fall into the sink in front of me.

My eyes wet, I don't know if it's from the despair I feel or how angry I am at myself.. but I never stop, not till I have no sight of who I was before.

Right after, I have the need to light a cigarette; I make my way back into the room, with my shaky hands I grab the pack laying on the vanity—and I let out the smoke after one long drag, and for the first time I think I'm satisfied with what I see..

And no vision of her.

Inspired by the 'Not over you' MV. For a better experience, listen to the song while you're reading.

[ I made this, everything written here are original ideas by me. ]

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.

Can anyone disagree that it looks magical in this design?

_Closest thing to God I have

𒂭🌑 ever laid my eyes on_

They call me Superman

PAIRINGS: Spider-Man Bill 2010 x female reader

GENRE: smut

SYNOPSIS: However, if listen closely, can hear muffled moans, growls and body slaps, resounding smacking, teeth clanking against the piercing iron ball and a quiet, quiet declaration of love.

WARNINGS: rough sex, p in v

A/N: english is not my native language! The name doesn't fit the story a bit, because I decided to name it after a song by Superman (Eminem).

The sun was smoothly disappearing into the horizon, spreading the long rays of an orange sunset across, sinking into the sharp corners of skyscrapers, reflecting off glass surfaces and painfully cutting into the eyes with a bright warm light. The streets of London are extremely crowded. Long snakes of cars that stand in endless traffic jams, crowds of people walking outdoors, eating in local bakeries or enjoying the nature of parks.

You were twirling a fresh newspaper in your hands, reading the same headline over and over again. A bold inscription on gray paper reads: “An unknown man in a mask saved our city again! The fight that took place between Spider-Man and Vulture took place in the central clock tower of Big Ben. A lot of damage was done to the building.”

The lines cling to the soul, forcing you to hold your breath for a moment, and then take a deep breath. It was as if there wasn't enough oxygen in your chest, so you went to the panoramic window and opened it wide, letting a cold stream of wind into the apartment. It was already rapidly getting dark outside, the whole of London was in the cold shadow of the night, streetlights alternately began to illuminate the path of passers-by.

You sat down on an armchair, grabbing a color photograph from the coffee table with a masked man who gracefully sat on the roof of one of the buildings. You took this photo a long time ago, but you still didn't dare send it to the press, because it became unpleasant from the realization that this guy would be slandered in the future, as always.

Suddenly, a rustle was heard from the window. You frowned and walked over to him, resting your palms on the windowsill. There was no one there, but your hands slipped, and you almost fell out the window, but someone else's strong arms grabbed you tightly by the waist, pressing your back against your elastic chest. You sighed in surprise, grabbing the savior by the venous hands. Looking down, you saw a dark blue fabric with a strange and rather familiar pattern.. Is that really it?..

A sob escapes from your chest by itself, and you immediately push away from the rescuer. Of course, it was none other than Spider-Man himself. The mesh of the "spider web" on his suit shone beautifully from the light of the street lamps. His sharp features cast bulky shadows, and there was a grin on his plump lips. You stumbled back, eyes wide. There was a photo on the floor that you had been looking at earlier. He squatted down and picked up the photo, letting out a mocking laugh. His gaze was directed entirely at you, and his eyes flashed unkindly.

“It's not a bad photo, is it?” His low voice made me start up. Right now you felt like a real prey in the hands of a predator.

You swallowed hard, a sticky ball of saliva, watching him intently, afraid to move once again.

“Come on, why are you acting like we don't know each other?” A voice came to your ear, and you screamed, recoiling from the hero who suddenly appeared next to you. He laughed and grabbed you by the waist, roughly and closely pressing you against his hot body. And you knew why and why he came to you. After all, it was you who turned him over to the press, photographed him from under the silence and allowed people to slander him. Maybe he's taking revenge like that. Rather, it's not possible, but that's for sure.

You tried your best to resist him, push him away from you and scream with all your might, not sparing your voice, but by doing so, on the contrary, you amused the young man, he laughed and wrapped your long hair around his fist, forcing you to throw your head back. Your heart was pounding, your blood was pounding in your veins, and you were extremely short of breath. Your head was spinning from the imbalance, it felt like it was all unreal, like it was a damn dream. You desperately wanted to push Spider-Man away, but your body was shackled by fear, and you were unable to move. Probably the only thing that kept you from falling was your nocturnal guest, who held your waist and hair tightly.

You silently closed your eyes, squinting and waiting for the subsequent punishment, trying to focus on controlling your own breathing, because at this rate you could easily have hyperventilated your lungs, at least. A strong hand moved higher, circling your chest slowly and gently, massaging your tense shoulders. It seemed to you that his touch left hot traces on your body, burning you to ashes. You felt a whole range of emotions that fell on your fragile shoulders in the form of male hands, but you were distracted from your thoughts by the low voice of the hero.

“Come on, don't be afraid, baby,” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath burning your earlobe. “I really liked your photos. You're probably a professional here, aren't you?” Bill grins, continuing to stroke your girlish shoulders and collarbones with one hand, holding your coiled hair tightly with the other, forcing you to tilt your head to the side, revealing a beautiful, neat neck.

Your body was shaking either from fear or pleasure. Your lips were pursed into a thin line, you finally stopped trying to escape. You began to concentrate on the guy's stinging touches, completely throwing all unnecessary thoughts out of your head. Your body was burning with desire, and you were trembling all over. The young man leads you to a chest of drawers and makes you bend down.

“Look in the mirror. Do you like what you see, mm?“ The hero's low, hoarse voice whispers in your ear, his lips glide over your earlobe and neck, biting and sucking, pulling your thin girlish skin into his mouth.

You stare intently into the reflection, and there you see a brunette who is barely standing on her feet, leaning weakly against the white wood of the chest of drawers, her hair is in disarray, her face is red, and her chest is heaving heavily. Strong, venous hands glide over her chest and waist, smoothly tracing all the curves of her body. He playfully hooks the hem of her T-shirt, unhurriedly lifting it higher, scratching her ribs with his short nails, kissing her neck..

Soon, a T-shirt with a print of some German rock band flies back, by a lucky chance falling neatly on the bed.

“Wow..” A faint chuckle can be heard from the guest. He smoothly outlines the outline of a red lace bra, licks his own lips and plays with the tongue piercing ball, tapping it against his fangs, moving it from side to side. Surely something unthinkable is going on in his head.

He takes out your polaroid camera from somewhere and takes a picture. You immediately start up, perplexed, trying to free yourself from the guy's hands, but he just clicks and thrusts his hips, roughly pushing against your ass, creating an imitation of a push. It made you collapse against a white tree and groan.

Bill, in turn, grins and shakes the photo, making the picture appear. His hand soothingly strokes your thigh, clad in a plaid skirt.

“Well, well, baby.. You have my pictures too, don't you? I'll keep this as a keepsake..” The photo immediately disappears somewhere, and Spider-Man turns all his attention back to you. “Remind me where we're staying..?” he says playfully and abruptly lowers both straps of your bra, making you cry out.

“Shh.. Well, what didn't I see there? Although.. You'll probably look a lot better than the ones I've already seen..” Bill's fingers deftly unfasten the lace element, throwing it away. His lips press against your delicate back skin, biting and licking, making you collapse with your chest against the cold surface of the chest of drawers. The hero slides his hot palms over your bare thighs, crawling under the worthless fabric of skirt, mercilessly scratching the skin of legs, rising higher, higher, higher..

You make a squeak and jump in someone else's arms when calloused fingers touch the most intimate, pushing back the edge of your panties...

You don't even notice how nimble fingers take turns penetrating you, driving deep and rough, contrasting with slow and gentle thrusts. He shamelessly pushes your hot walls apart, doing something incredibly obscene that makes your legs cramp and your knees tremble. His thumb simultaneously caresses the bead of your clitoris in circular movements, forcing you to moan loudly and continuously. Your shoulders were covered with red marks, and Spider-Man was whispering something very vulgar in your ear, constantly touching and squeezing your soft, rounded breasts with his free hand.

Something elastic is openly poking into your lower back, which made your cheeks flush with shame. Bill removes his hand from your chest, hurriedly and impatiently trying to get rid of the belt plaque on the loose cut of his jeans. You decide to help, and putting your hands behind your back, you quickly relieve the young man of the heavy burden of punk jeans. You wrap your manicured hands around him through the fabric of his boxers, and he even chuckled at the interesting contrast of his white underwear and your black nails, but your hand squeezing his cock immediately dispelled all the notes of mischief, from which he throws his head back along with his mohawk, moaning for a long time and stopping the movement of his fingers inside you for a moment. He growls and pulls off his boxers with a jerk, lifting your skirt and leaving a slap on your smooth buttocks, which made you scream. His fingers sloshed out of your warm interior to your disappointed whimper, but something much more substantial immediately rushes in to replace them.

The venous penis of a young man of considerable size fits completely inside you, you whimper and moan, moving your hips, wanting to feel it in action. And Bill lets you. He grabs you roughly by the hips and begins a smooth movement, staring intently at the reflection and grinning.

His organ is engulfed by the unbearable narrowness and warmth of your body, he growls and pushes into you rougher, sharper. You painfully bang your hips against the side of the chest of drawers, and the young man decides to make you arch so that it doesn't hurt so much.

His balls slap against your bulging ass, his fingers leave red marks on your delicate skin, and you whimper, giving back. Bill tilts his head back, crystal clear beads of sweat slowly trickle from his forehead, stroking his sharp cheekbones and jaw, as well as trickling down his clearly visible adam's apple and muscular chest with dark dots of nipples. His abs are tense, and a wild desire arises in the area of his pubis to fuck your soul out. To get back at you for making him look like a villain in front of the whole of London, for daring to take pictures of him from under the silence, for being so fucking beautiful..

He fucks you roughly and continuously, making you scream and squirm, clench your own hands and leave bloody crescents of nails on your palms.

“Oh my God!” You're screaming, clutching Bill's big hand tightly in your hand as he presses his prominent chest against your back. He grins.

“God? Huh.. They usually call me a street bully,” He roughly punches you into a chest of drawers, hissing in your ear through his teeth: “Or a looter, a murderer, a vandal, a monster.” His cock slides a lot harder and deeper, as if trying to get back at you for all the labels they put on him because of your fault. “Do you know who came up with all this? In the next newspaper, should I expect the headlines to say "god" instead of all that filth, huh? Tell me..” Kaulitz's hips are hammering more often, the thrusts are becoming more and more erratic. You come with a deep, long moan, unable to stand this guy's rhythm any longer. He quickly slips out of you, roughly bringing you to your knees.

“Will you apologize properly, baby?” Bill gently strokes your head, pushing you, who has not yet had time to recover from orgasm, into action. You obediently open your mouth, ready to take it completely. Your hot tongue slides over the flushed head of his cock, collecting the remnants of your own semen. You play with the tip of your tongue on his urethra, making him moan loudly and squeeze your hair. You circle his venous penis, not missing a single irregularity, passing deeper into your hot narrow throat. Bill licks his lips, shaking convulsively. He wrapped your long hair in his fist and began to roughly fuck your mouth, moving his hips. You stroke his thighs, scratch with your long nails, take him deeper.

After a couple of deep thrusts, Spider-Man pours into your mouth, looks at you through his fox squint from top to bottom, arrogantly watching as you swallow everything without a trace, finally running your tongue along his entire length, collecting the remaining layer of semen on the surface.

“Good girl..” He breathes heavily and swallows the saliva that has accumulated in his mouth, picks you up by the hair and kisses you wetly, deeply and passionately, after a while he pulls away and grins. “What about the second round?”

The sun has long since disappeared into the horizon, spreading the long rays of an orange sunset across, drowning in the sharp corners of skyscrapers, reflecting off glass surfaces and painfully cutting into the eyes with a bright warm light.

The streets of London are completely empty.

There are no longer those long snakes of cars that stood in endless traffic jams, there are no crowds of people who walked in the fresh air, eating in local bakeries or enjoying the nature of parks. Everything was replaced by bright signs of clubs and restaurants, light from the windows of multi-storey apartments and the rays of a large yellow moon. Fast motorcycles and the sound of water from fountains can be heard on the street. However, if listen closely, can hear muffled moans, growls and body slaps, resounding smacking, teeth clanking against the piercing iron ball and a quiet, quiet declaration of love.

I THOUGHT IT COULDN'T GET ANY BETTER, BUT THIS IS CLEAR PROOF OF THE OPPOSITE.. DID I REALLY LOSE MY WAY, ONLY TO ACCIDENTALLY FIND THE WAY TO HEAVEN? FINE, I'LL EAT BILL, IF NO ONE OBJECTS

Hii ! Could you make Bill x Female reader, I don’t know how to word this properly but it would start with Bill and the reader just hanging in his room cuddling or wtv and it turns into a make-out session which then leads to gentle sex ? AND could you also add like size kink to this sorry if that’s a lot , thank you !! 🤍

༺ Tw: NSFW

★ Bill 2009.

★ Female reader.

★ Sub!Reader, Dom!Bill.

Summary: < You and Bill are spending the afternoon at his apartment; you two are watching a movie till he decides he should pay some attention to you instead. >

—Tenderly yours.

You were sitting in Bill's room, right on his large bed. You came over that afternoon to spend the night at his place, since you two couldn't see each other all the time.—You were waiting for him to come back with some snacks as he promised; your hands holding yourself up as they laid across the soft dark sheets, your gaze averting from the tv in front of you towards the door as soon as he appeared back inside with a few small bags of candy in his hands, you immediately smiled at the sight.

'Missed me?' He talked playfully, raising both eyebrows as he set it down on the mattress, not before giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. 'Oh you don't know how much.' You retorted dramatically, bringing a hand up to your chest with a wide grin on your face.

━╋

Bill immediately rolled his eyes, and you picked up some of the candy he brought; he knew your exact taste, and that just made it even more sweet. 'Hmm sour worms.' You let out happily, popping one of them into your mouth and closing your eyes tight for an instant, savoring the taste immediately. 'But don't keep 'em all to yourself.' He hummed, and as soon as he spoke up, you turned your head at him and placed one of them into his mouth, motioning for him to open up for you.

Bill gave you a wide smile at the same time he chewed on his candy, his eyes squinting, which made you wrap an arm around his torso, pressing yourself up onto him. He was so cute when he wanted to be. 'Alright, what was this movie even about?' He suddenly muttered, his eyes looking back at the tv in front of them as if he wasn't even pay attention all this time.—you just shook your head in disbelief, flicking him on the arm before scooting closer, sitting up right next to each other, as close as you two could; one of your legs above his much bigger ones, your arm wrapped around his, and head falling on his shoulder. 'Pay attention.. then you'll know.' You whispered eventually, bringing another piece of candy to your mouth while he only huffed at your words.

━╋

For a while, he just sat still and watched the movie with you, which he didn't care in the slightest about. But soon, his hand that laid around your shoulders started to softly drag its fingertips around, watching you instead for a moment. Of course, you noticed.. you knew he was up to something, so you just decided to give in and look back up at him, giving him a curious look.

But there was nothing curious about the way he leaned in to kiss you, just like that. You let him do so anyways, your hand going to cup the side of his face, holding onto him so dearly.. you've missed him so much—and it was clear he had too, so you knew this would come at some point of the night, not like you'd complain.

Bill put just slight intensity into the kiss, just barely, wanting to savor your moment together. He wasn't known for being exactly rough, since the first time, he's always been really gentle with you, something you've always loved about him. He never rushed you, or pushed you too far.. he was just perfect.—The perfect one for you.

━╋

His delicate touch moved down to your chin, holding onto you just so you'd tilt your head up some more, giving himself a better access to your already plump lips. Then, from one moment to another, in a slow and deliberate motion; He pushed you down, hovering over you completely, his eyes opening to roam around and take a look at your petite complexion under his body.

'Hello there.' He said, putting up a smug expression, which you always thought was stupid; your eyes also opening to give him a smile, arms wrapping around his neck as soon as you got the opportunity, reaching up to nuzzle your nose agaisnt his in a tender way. 'Hm, hi dummy.' You said in return, chuckling at the way his hands were already making themselves a part of you, running them up and down your torso, sneaking under your shirt even, his thumbs soothing the skin in circular motions as his lips pressed on your face a few times—down to your jawline, your neck..

━╋

Your hands played with the hairs on the back of his neck at the same time, which made him shiver to say the least, your touch light as a feather as always; your lips parting once more, but this time to leave a few heavy breaths. He always knew how to make you feel completely cherished—the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you.

You felt how he slid off your shirt, and you helped him by lifting up your arms for him. He couldn't help but smile at the sight before him, your skin radiant, glowing softly in the light of the only thing on in the room. 'If only I had you like this whenever I wanted..' He told you in a quiet, reverent tone. But the only thing you could do was to respond with another kiss, this time, letting him enter his tongue in your honeyed mouth—you also tried to work to get his top off, clutching agaisnt the fabric as he pushed himself closer against you for a moment, making you want more.

Once he finally let you take off the piece of clothing, your hands instantly went to gently sway along his chest, up and down, your touch a soft melody for him. 'I could kiss you for hours, never get tired of you.' He cooed right on your ear, before his hands glided gracefully towards your hips, making them buck upwards for him to pull down the thin pajama pants you decided to wear earlier for comfort. At his words, of course you had to look away—he always got to make your face flush up after any interaction, as small as it was. And you secretly loved it.

Once you were laying there, on your panties, he grabbed ahold of you effortlessly, melting into a hug as a hand caressed the side of your leg. 'How small, hm? you fit so perfectly in my arms.. exactly where you're supposed to be.' Bill said lowly—The way his voice reached you, so tender and calm, made you feel so safe.

━╋

You closed your eyes once you felt his hips shoving together into yours, having to bite back a moan; your hands betraying yourself, shakily moving them down towards his waist, pulling at the waistband of his sweats, letting him know that's what you wanted, along a nod of your head.

Your hearts beat in harmony for a moment, his eyes searching for yours again for any sort of confirmation again, but you just pressed yourself on his erection once more, making him sigh. 'I want it.' You said, just so there wouldn't be any more questioning, and as soon as those words slip out of your mouth, he also gave you a nod—getting off you for a moment before he actually ended up in his briefs in front of you.

He looked so sweet even like that, you smiled. Your fingers reaching for him again to keep him on top of you once more, just so this time you'd feel his clothed dick riding up and down your heat. Your eyes fluttered shut, he always took his time to make sure you were all ready for him, even though you didn't need it half of the time.. The desire within you two was incredible at this point, it could be felt all over the room and you bet anyone walking around outside that night did too.

━╋

He was growing crazier each time by the way you felt against him, even if it was some simple friction, he felt like it drove him right to the edge. He moved a hand down to the elastic of your panties, toying with it till he just decided to pull them off carefully, setting them away.. you opened your legs for him some more, so shamelessly, showing him exactly what he was about to dive into. 'Oh god..' He breathed, his mind all fuzzy already as he reached for you; rubbing his fingertips all over your slit, lubricating them with your already wet folds.

You also managed to reach down onto him, sneaking your hand under his underwear to grab ahold of his cock, not making much effort to pull it out, bouncing up towards his low abdomen.—You licked your lips, starting to move from his shaft to the tip, squeezing at it gently, just to get a drop of his precum, watching intently with an open mouth.. the same expression that he had on his face, amazed by the way your hand worked to make him feel good as he slid a finger inside of you, that's when you couldn't help but moan out, your head sinking down onto the pillows. 'Yeah? like this, baby?' He asked you, just to get your approval, to know if you needed any more preparation. Your grip just got tighter around him, humming in anticipation. 'Yes, yes.. make love to me.' You purred to him, lifting your head up just so you could search for his mouth again, iterwining in another kiss—your answer being enough for him to readjust himself better in between your legs, placing one of them around his waist as he pushed himself into your tight entrance, your foreheads pressing together along a loud sound coming from you two, making it hard to keep going with the kiss.

━╋

'You feel so good.. so soft.' Bill whispered to you, as his inches dragged along into your tender walls slowly, taking his time, feeling you so close to him. Your hands laid across his back, your nails gently tracing and leaving a trail of warmth on his skin, which seemed to shiver beneath your touch. He moved one of his hands to your face, wanting to look at it while he pounded into you, wanting to admire the way your face lit up as he made you feel so good as well—his fingers brushing through your hair for a moment, each touch feeling like a promise; The promise of his heart never falling out of love for you.

━╋

You were completely breathless at this point, the frenetic moves of his interlocked with yours, your hips moving in circles as he set a pace on you, fucking you slowly but with each thrust, he just went deeper, and harder; just how you liked. Bill was already dissolving into pleasure by the way you moved under him—trying to clench around him as much as you could.

'You're doing so beautifully.' He praised, almost in a stutter, quietly—which made you throw your head back. The sound of his voice, almost whiny when he was at the edge had you in a trance, wanting to feel him even more, much more.

'I think I'm gonna—' You tried to speak, but he was already attaching his thumb to your clit, applying some pressure to his kneading just to make it more intense for you, much more.

Bill pound his hips into yours, losing the rhythm of before as his own climax approached, giving you an encouraging smirk. 'Don't worry baby, let go.. I've got you.' He whispered, which lead to a much louder sound coming from his lips, when he shoot his massive load into you, your legs immediately going up to your chest—your eyes rolling back at the immense dissolve of pleasure, leaving trails of fire under your chest.

━╋

And you smiled lazily, feeling the gentleness of his presence soon beside you on the bed again, the warmth coming from his body like a quiet embrace, your connection between the both was smooth,—His hands were now more steady, reaching to have you close to his chest, his body enveloping yours along a kiss on the forehead. 'I adore you.' He told you, before you two set off in a deep sleep shortly after.