Tom Kaulitz cooking

Your morning started with cooking; you decided to make something together. You tried making cookies (Plätzchen) like the ones from the cartoon "Shrek."

Tom took up the dough; he was a great cook. You put on your aprons and started cooking. Or rather, you just walked around Tom and watched as he made the dough, mixing the necessary ingredients.

Tom: Look, pass me the flour, I need to add it to the dough, you can help me cook it, - he said, stirring the dough.

— My dough has lumps, the flour doesn’t want to mix.

He picked up the bag of flour to add to your bowl, but you blocked it with your hands so he wouldn't add anything, and all the flour fell on the table and scattered. You both exchanged glances, and Tom started laughing at the whole situation. Your clothes, hair, and face were all covered in flour. You looked like a ghost.

Tom: Now it's clear that you're a real housewife, all covered in flour.

• It's your fault! You interrupted me; I could have cooked it myself.

Tom smiled his signature smirk and scooped up some flour from the countertop. He ran his finger down your neck, leaving a trail of flour. He also kept his gaze fixed on you, admiring you.

Tom: Schön...Even traces of flour cannot obscure your beauty. - leaning towards your ear, he whispered, his gaze focused on you.

You felt his touch, and with each touch, a new trace of torment appeared. Tom ran his other hand down your arm, leaving a wide white mark from shoulder to elbow. You could call it his temporary tattoo. He leaned down and lightly kissed the spot on your collarbone where the torment remained.

Tom: These marks are mine alone. I think cooking can wait, but for now I need to deal with cleaning. Let's start with you, Schatz.

Flour, which initially became a symbol of your shared cooking, has turned into something else, an element, a moment in your relationship.