#the party (2017)

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Guess | Tom (The Party)

summary — you suspect that your dad's best friend is stealing your panties…and you can’t help but play into it.

warnings — panty stealing fetish/kink, smut, p in v, oral (m!receiving) unspecified age gap, pervert!tom sort of but like not entirely

word count — 2.2k

masterlist

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You watched your dad as he talked to his lifelong best friend, Tom, about the game that was on TV earlier. Your dad had known him for since he was in college himself, so he was a true friend to your family through and through.

As you reached into the fridge to grab a bottle of water in your favourite pink pyjama set, your dad excused himself from the kitchen, leaving you and Tom alone.

It was never awkward with him, though, having known him for so long. In fact, as of recently, you almost felt this sort of…tension between the two of you whenever he came over. You tried to reason with yourself about it — he was your dad's best friend and he was significantly older than you, so there should be no reason for you to feel this way towards him. There should be no “tension” at all.

But ever since your panties started to go missing each time he came over, you had a feeling all that palpable tension wasn’t there for no reason. 

Ever since you were younger, you'd always found Tom to be “good looking,” per se, but ever since his divorce and since you started college, you started to find him really attractive.

Every single time he’d come over, you’d get irrevocably turned on. You even started to have vivid fantasies about him, especially at night, and you found yourself wishing his fingers were touching your aching cunt instead of your own.

So, consequently, each time you saw him, your underwear always had a little damp patch on them from how wet he made you, meaning you had to constantly go excuse yourself to change into a different pair. You couldn’t help it — it’s not your fault that he was so god damn attractive without even trying. 

But then things...changed. You started to notice that every time you went upstairs to go change your panties, it seemed you could never find the pair you had been wearing prior, even after looking for them for like twenty minutes. You swore you threw them into your hamper, but then when you checked, they weren’t there. 

About two months ago, you threw your favourite lacy black pair with the little bows into your laundry hamper which you kept in your room. After reapplying your lip gloss in the bathroom, you saw Tom come out of your bedroom. As he was about to go back downstairs, you saw him casually stuffing something into his pocket — black and lacy — before sneaking off downstairs, unaware that you’d just seen him do something so filthy. 

But if it was so filthy, then why did it turn you on so badly? 

You’d suspected that he may have been stealing your panties, but to actually see him doing it had butterflies erupting in your chest.

Naturally, after you found out — you started to play into it. You’d leave a pair of lacy, baby pink underwear hanging from your hamper then asking him to get something upstairs in your bedroom for you, or you’d “accidentally” drop something on the floor, only to bend over and give him a little glimpse of what was underneath your shorts.

You wanted him to see how wet he’d gotten you.

Hell, you even got so ballsy with it that one time, you actually stuffed a pair of your panties into his coat pocket before he went back home — but neither of you ever happened to bring it up afterwards.

As you stood in the kitchen wearing your pink pyjamas, throwing him an innocent smile as you sipped on your water, his eyes immediately went to your lips, then to your very short pyjama shorts, and then finally back up to your face. 

“You’re up late,” he mused, “I thought you had classes in the morning?”

“I’m surprised you remember,” you said, biting your lip as you found it rather endearing that he even remembered your class schedule from when you told him ages ago. “I have a reading break, so I have the rest of the week off."

He hummed in acknowledgement, peering over his shoulder, presumably seeing where your dad had gone. “Your father had to take an important call, I reckon,” Tom said softly with a shrug. “Somethin’ about work…”

You nodded, not sure what else to say after finding out that Tom had quite literally been stealing and stuffing your underwear into his pockets...and that he knew that you knew.

But to you, it just made it all the more thrilling. 

The thought alone was enough to make you wet again — then suddenly, an idea struck you.

“I’ll be right back, just gonna go change into something warmer. I’m kinda cold,” you said innocently, and you noticed the way his blue eyes almost lit up when you mentioned you were going to get changed. 

“Alright,” he responded casually.

As you got upstairs, you quickly took off your underwear — a pretty, pink, lacy pair — before putting your pink pyjamas back on. No, you weren’t actually cold, you just wanted to see if you could catch him stuffing his pockets again…

So you tossed your damp panties (all thanks to Tom) into your hamper before making your way back downstairs. Tom was stood in the kitchen like he was five minutes ago, and you could hear your dad talking to someone on the phone in his office. Clearly he’d be wrapped up with that for the next little while. 

“Thought you were cold?” Tom gestured to your pyjamas which you hadn’t changed out of.

“Actually, once I got upstairs I realized I was actually a little hot,” you said before “accidentally” knocking an apple out of the fruit bowl on the kitchen island. “Oops.” 

You bent down to grab the apple off of the kitchen floor, causing your shorts to ride up and show the outline of your soaking cunt, which by the way, left a small little wet patch on your pyjamas. The way he had you dripping like a leaking faucet should've been criminal.

“Christ,” you heard Tom breathe out from behind you, “erm…I’m just going to go use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” 

You looked over your shoulder at him as he excused himself and hurried upstairs, causing you to smirk as you placed the apple back into the fruit bowl. You followed him upstairs after a few minutes, noticing how your bedroom door was cracked open slightly. 

You made your way to the door, pushing it open quietly as your eyes widened at what you were met with.

In your bedroom, Tom was on your bed, his thick cock being fisted by his right hand with your lacy pink panties in the other. You knew he had a thing for your underwear, but you didn’t realize he was actually hanging onto them while he jerked off. 

“Tom?” You asked softly, causing him to startle and immediately turn red as you closed the door behind you.

“Fuck— shit, I’m sorry—“ he tried to cover himself with a frilly pillow from your bed, but you weren’t having it. You went over to him, yanking the pillow from his hands, making him let out a choked sound. “What are you doing?!“

“Keep going,” you encouraged softly, your bottom lip between your teeth as you crawled onto your bed. “I wanna watch.” 

He looked like he’d seen a ghost as he froze for a few moments, before slowly starting to stroke his length again, blue eyes locked on yours as his brows were furrowed. “You’re so dirty,” you teased, getting between his legs, “dirty old man.” 

He let out a breathy groan under his breath — but it was true. You were so much younger than him, and yet here he was, stealing your panties and then coming to them. Coming to the thought of you.

He pictured you so many times while fisting his cock, the way you’d look in your underwear, posing for him, especially in those skimpy little lace ones. The way your pretty lips would look wrapped around his cock; how you’d lick it, spit on it, choke on it…

“Why don’t you – fuck — have a taste, sweetheart?” he suggested, making your cheeks heat up. You crawled between his legs, resting on your stomach as you reached over to replace his hand with yours. 

Gently, you wrapped your hand around this thick, veiny cock before popping him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. He let out a moan, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warm, wet mouth. His hips bucked up, causing you to choke on his cock, making him curse under his breath as his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this — it’s like you were made to suck cock, baby,” he praised you while breaching your throat barrier, making tears well up in your eyes. You continued to use your hand, moving it up and down his cock while you took him in your mouth. 

After you deepthroated him a few more times, you took his cock out of your mouth, letting out a big gasp for air as you did so. Tom looked at you with glossy eyes like he was drunk off of the feeling of you. 

“You’re disgusting,” you found yourself saying, but you were undressing as the words left your lips. “Like, you’re actually fucking gross — stealing my panties and jerking off to them? Are you kidding me?”

“What’s disgusting is that you actually like it,” he smirked, eying you carefully as you stripped down into nothing. The second you were naked, he pressed you down on the bed, stomach pressed up against the mattress with a pillow underneath to prop your ass up. “How wet am I making you if you're having to change your panties every time I come over?"

He stroked his cock a few times, tossing his blazer off into the corner of the room carelessly, before lining his fat cock head up with your soaked entrance. He teased your dripping folds with his cock, “I’d always try and guess what colour panties you were wearing. Then you'd bend over and I would get to see if my guess was accurate."

Before you could respond, he suddenly pushed into your cunt with little resistance, splitting you in two with just how thick he was alone. His length stretched you out, causing you to let out a choked mewl as he let out a low groan, fucking you relentlessly into the mattress as he pulled your hair back. “You’re such a dirty little girl,” he growled, “you wanted me so badly — mm, fuck. That’s a tight pussy.” 

“Uh-huh,” you said, your mind going numb, “y-yeah, fuck— Tom! Fuck, Tom!”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” he cooed mockingly. “I bet you love getting fucked stupid, don’t you? Is this what you wanted? Say it, baby.” 

“Yes!” you wailed. “Yes, ugh, fuck! I wanted you to see how w-wet – mmph!” 

“Come on,” he encouraged, fucking you deeper as he held you up by your hair almost painfully. “Spit it out.”

“I wanted you to see how wet – my god – you made me!” you screamed, feeling his cock spear you so deeply, you thought your insides were being rearranged. “I’m gonna cum, oh my god—”

“Already?” he teased, ramming your tight little cunt with as much strength as he could. “You’re so cute.” 

“Tom, I—“ 

You barely got the words out as you came all over his cock, coating him with your juices as you whined and moaned his name over and over again. “Good girl, fuck—“ he choked out, feeling your cunt clench down on him as your release washed over you. 

“I’m not gonna last either, your pussy’s so tight. Jesus, baby,” he said lowly, fucking you harder, plowing your abused little hole faster. “Gonna fuckin’ fill this cunt, s'all mine.”

He continued to thrust into you from behind, hands still gripping your hair so that he could get a look at your pretty face while he did so. You were a shaking mess at this point, but he continued to ram his thick cock deeper, causing you to let out hoarse screams and inaudible sounds. 

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, hips stuttering as he slammed himself into you over and over again. “Yeah, that’s it — fuck.”

You moaned as you felt the heat pool in your stomach, his warm seed filling you raw as he let go of your hair finally. Your head hit the pillows softly and you propped yourself up onto your elbows gently as he stilled in your abused hole, now stuffed with his cum. 

“So good for me, baby,” he said, pulling out of you as he watched his cum drip out of your cunt, smearing onto your inner thighs.

You let out a soft sigh before your dad started to call out your name from downstairs — you only prayed that by the grace of god, he was too wrapped up in his call to notice that his best friend had his daughter pressed up against a mattress upstairs while ruining her. 

“One second!” You shouted, scrambling to get up as Tom got dressed with you. Rummaging around your dresser drawers, you tried to find your favourite skimpy, red underwear but Tom called your name out softly, causing you to look over your shoulder at him. 

He held up the red lace panties you were looking for, but then he shoved them into his pocket, smirking at you before reaching for the doorknob, his face slightly flushed and his hair tousled.

“If you want these back, then you're gonna have to come over to my place tonight and come get them from me, baby."

ੈ✩‧₊˚

taglist

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

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@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[possession]

THE PARTY (2017) dir. Sally Potter

[luluartpop]

Cillian Murphy interview for "The Party" (2017)

[mothhball]

Dark! Tom (from the party) has had a thing for Janet and Bill’s barely legal neighbor for so long. So at their party, while everyone else is drunk and too oblivious, Tom follows her outside and ((;

THE PARTY FAVOR

DARK!TOM X FEM!READER

summary Tasked with congratulating Janet in your parent's name, you head over to hand over a party favor. But a bottle of champagne isn't the only thing that's being thirsted over tonight.

warnings Tom is a little gross in this lmao. But it's Dark!Tom, so what do you expect 🥴💦 Big age difference!! (Reader is freshly 18, Tom is in his late thirties) P in V , unprotected, hints of drug use, foul language, alcohol consumption, cheating

notes Whoops, this got a little longer than I planned! my last little gift before I go on vacation lmao <3 tysm for requesting this, anon! I had fun writing this! Please turn a blind eye to any mistakes, I'm tired aaaaa

! MINORS DNI !

main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 2.9k

“God, I haven’t seen you in years.”

You tense up at the voice, turning around to stare at a familiar face. You were just in the middle of hyping yourself up to even knock on the door when said door opened, leaving you unprepared and caught off-guard like a deer in the headlights. But it’s not the person you expected. No, instead of the expected Janet, her friend April is staring back at you, throwing a wrench into your plans. See, you’re here on a mission. A mission with easy instructions.

Your parents left a bottle of champagne and a greeting card on the counter before they went to the theater, asking you to head over to your neighbors Bill and Janet to congratulate them on Janet’s ministerial appointment. But now, you’re already going off-course.

“April… lovely to see you,” you smile at her, nodding down towards the gift you brought. But before April can respond, Janet’s voice can be heard from inside.

“Who is it?”

“Your neighbor. The little one. Well, not so little anymore.” April gives you a once-over, not even pretending to be cordial with you. In a way, it’s admirable of her. She never bends over backwards to please people, and she definitely has no trouble speaking her mind. If only she wasn’t such a fucking hater.

Janet joins her in the doorway, looking at you with an expression that’s both relieved and distressed. If you’re the deer in the headlights, she’s the deer that has already made acquaintance with the hood of a bulky SUV.

“Oh, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you to come over, honestly. So lovely to see you. How are your parents?” Janet begins, raising her voice a little to drown out an argument that’s happening inside. You can see the forced smile, the exhaustion in every line on her face. And then, to both April’s and your surprise, Janet invites you inside with a wave of her hand. This wasn’t the plan. Not at all. You’re supposed to hand over the bottle and card and leave. Leave. Going inside the damn house definitely wasn’t part of your instructions.

“Uhm… Look, Janet, if this is a bad time –“ You try to decline, only to be cut off by the hostess of the party.

“No, no. Don’t be silly. Please, come in.” She notices your skeptical glance past her into the house, realizing that, despite her best efforts, you must’ve heard the last syllables of the argument that happened in the living room. Still, Janet puts on a brave face, desperate to play the part of the overjoyed, newly elected minister. The silence between you drags on for a few more seconds before she steps aside to make the invitation even more clear.

“Please,” she repeats, and this time it sounds like a plea you’re too polite to ignore.

The house feels off. You've been over a few times before, and the place has never once felt this… depressing. The living room reeks of misery, and you get the feeling that you stumbled into something you shouldn't be a part of. But now you're here, still clutching the bottle of champagne and the greeting card. There's a little stain on the red envelope, caused by your clammy hands digging into the paper, but you just assume that Janet won’t care.

You’re proven right when she takes the gift from you, only to immediately set the card aside in favor of opening the bottle of champagne. As she pours enough glasses for everyone, she tentatively tries to make conversation.

“I heard it was your birthday? You’re 18 now, aren’t you? God, what an age… So young. And so full of joy…” she trails off for a moment, and you witness in real time how her expression falls and twists into something pained and dejected. Then she catches herself and clears her throat, quickly replacing her sullen demeanor with something more cheerful. A typical politician.

“Well, happy belated birthday.”

Everyone else is stuck in their own thoughts, quietly muttering their congratulations, and you’re once again reminded why you never join the celebrations whenever your parents receive an invitation from Janet. You grace the group with a tight-lipped smile, downing your glass of champagne and accepting a refill.

The slam of the bathroom door almost causes you to drop your drink, and as you look up, you’re met by the sight of Tom stomping back into the room. You pause, unable to stop your eyes as they rake across his form, taking in the tension that has captivated every cell in his body. His forehead is covered by a thin layer of sweat, and his usually neat hair is tousled, plucked apart by skittish hands. You also don’t miss the way he hurriedly rubs the tip of his finger over his gums.

Tom clears his throat, straightening his ridiculously expensive suit jacket as he approaches you, and he meets your gaze with a look of recognition in his baby blues. Out of everyone in this dreadful group of characters, it’s him you get along with the most. At least you did, back when you last spoke and the air didn’t feel as thick as fucking tar. Something about Tom’s arrival only causes the tension to worsen, and you flinch as Janet’s hand lands on your shoulder.

“And your parents? Going on vacation, are they?”

You blink at her, taking a moment to digest the absolute whiplash this entire situation is giving you. This feels hellish, in a way. As if you’ve wandered into your own spinoff of Dante’s Inferno, desperate to crawl out of this ring of hell and back to your room to try and forget this ever happened.

“Yeah… They’re leaving for Italy in two days. Turin. For three weeks.”

Janet nods, looking absent as you answer the question she asked in the first place, and you awkwardly sip on your glass as she starts a new topic without acknowledging your response. You can feel Tom seething next to you as Janet speaks, radiating a nasty energy that’s seemingly directed at the host, sitting not too far away on a chair in the middle of the room. Tom’s jaw clenches, and you can practically hear how his teeth grind together.

Finally, he snaps.

“Are we going to pretend that nothing happened? Are we seriously going to pretend that Bill didn’t fuck my wife?”

The room immediately falls silent, and your eyes almost pop out of your head. So that was the topic of the earlier argument. You look at him, and he scoffs, turning away from the group.

“God, I –“ He cuts himself off, running his hands through his hair and down his face as if he’s trying to wipe the turmoil and exhaustion off his skin. Obviously, to no avail. “I need some air.”

Some minutes pass, and you feel incredibly out of place as another argument starts within the group, only getting worse with every glass of champagne—and now wine—that’s being chugged by everyone involved. You clear your throat, trying make yourself known.

“I should go as well. Uhm… it’s been nice. Congrats again, Janet.”

The woman in question doesn’t even notice that you’re slinking away from the party, too busy glaring daggers into her husband while Bill is talking about Marianne, Tom’s beautiful wife. Good lord, you’ve never felt more relieved to leave someone’s home.

Outside, you march through the small backyard, heading straight to the little gate that separates your property from your neighbor’s, and you’re almost back within your comfort zone when a voice stops you.

“Hey. Come… Come here for a moment.” You look over your shoulder, spotting Tom as he’s leaning against the wall next to the dustbins, head in his hands. Torn between your desire to leave and the empathy you feel for the man, you hesitate for a breath before you approach him.

“Are you alright? I can’t imagine…”

Without answering, Tom lifts the lid off one of the dustbins, revealing a gun sitting pretty among the trash. You can feel the blood draining from your face, and you recoil, breath hitching within your throat.

“Jesus Christ – “

“Shh, shh! I know. Just –“ Tom cuts himself off, raising his hands in an effort to calm you down. When you’re just looking at him instead of running, he lets out a sigh of utter devastation. “You know I can’t do this. And I won’t, but... I… I found out this morning that Bill…”

He shakes his head, unable to finish his sentence, and your heart twists a little as you see the tears welling up in his eyes. In an attempt to comfort him, you reach out to set a gentle hand on his shoulder, which causes him to crumble even more. Tom lets out a choked scoff, shaking his head as his anger grows alongside the grief and disappointment.

“And I’ve always been faithful! I never cheated on Marianne! Even though I’ve had plenty of opportunities! Even… God, even with you around, I’ve always… always kept a grip on myself.”

He sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, before he meets your eyes again, and you startle. There’s still anger in his eyes. But another emotion has joined in as well, filling his gaze with something dark and hungry that causes you to pull your hand back again.

Suddenly, you’re very aware of your situation.

“I’m sick of pretending. Sick of denying myself. I’m a man too, god damnit.”

He’s quick to snatch you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in against his frame. You know you should struggle. You should tell him off. But you’d be a liar if you claimed that he had never once crossed your mind late at night. Tom is the kind of man who inspires your hands whenever you touch yourself. His face is the one you imagine hovering above yours when you’re knuckle-deep in your pretty little pussy.

“Wait, I –“ You try to speak, but he’s quick to maneuver you up against the wall, pressing you against brick and mortar and trapping you in place with his body.

“No. I’ve waited long enough.” He grits his teeth, catching both your wrists to pin them behind yourself over the small of your back and hold them in place with one of his larger hands. “Do you know how hard it was? To see you prancing around… I was always scared you’d have a boyfriend when you turned 18. Lucky me.”

You swallow hard, letting out a squeak as his free hand reaches around to pull up your shirt and bra, revealing your soft skin to the mild air and his eager fingers. Tom rolls one of your nipples between his pointer and thumb, tugging the hardening bud before he moves onto the next one, and you can hear how shaky his breath is getting as he continues to grope your tits. You squirm at a particularly harsh tug, causing him to press you up further against the wall, immobilizing you completely as he undoes his belt and zipper.

His deft hands take care of your jeans and panties next, opening them and pulling them down as much as he needs to gain access to your sweet cunt.

“Tom…” you whine, feeling the head of his cock brushing up against your dripping slit. He grunts in response, not bothering to hear you out as he sinks his length into your velvety folds, causing his breath to shudder against the shell of your ear. You wince, letting out a soft noise of discomfort as he pushes deeper, rolling his hips against yours to set a shallow rhythm.

“You can take it. Look at how fucking wet you are. You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”

You want to protest, but right as you open your mouth, he aims a rough thrust up against that delicious sweet spot within your cunt, luring a filthy noise from your lips that only spurs him on even more. Tom still has your arms restrained, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he stretches you open on his cock, getting your tight walls used to his girth.

His fingers push into your mouth, middle and ring pressing down on your tongue to make you gag and whimper simultaneously. Every time he shoves his fingers deeper, your body tenses and drool dribbles down your chin, right onto your exposed tits. It’s rough and fast, overwhelming you in more ways than one. Tom grunts into the crook of your neck, panting against your skin like a man possessed only by the desire to claim, to mark, to own.

The wedding ring still sitting around his finger clinks against your teeth, and you cringe, letting out a soft whine of discomfort that’s quickly shushed by the man behind you.

“Shh… Just be a good girl for me, yeah? Fuck, you squeeze my cock so well when you gag on my fingers…”

He pounds his hips against yours in quick, deep thrusts, fucking his cock into your cunt at an angle that makes your toes curl and your knees buckle. In that moment, you’re grateful that he chose to take you against the brick wall since you’re heavily relying on the structure and Tom’s grip on you to stay upright.

“And you’re so sweet… You don’t care about my job, right? No, you don’t. You’re not like Marianne. Always being so fucking sentimental on her high horse.”

He spits out the words, silencing any further comments from himself by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The rhythm of his thrusts quickens as he chases his high, and his hand finally releases your wrists to instead reach between your thighs to rub insistent circles around your clit. The sudden jolt of pleasure draws a wail from your lips, and Tom pulls his fingers free from your mouth to instead stifle any noises more effectively with the palm of his hand. His mouth is next to your ear, allowing you to hear every rasp of his breath and the subtle whine of his voice.

“You’re going to cum for me, right? You’re going to finish nice and quietly like a good girl on my cock, hm? Yes, you are.”

He uses his grip over your jaw to make you nod, and he hums in approval as he meets your hazy eyes. Slowly, the pace of his fingers on your clit builds into a crescendo, and his gaze never once strays away from your face. Like a man dying of thirst, Tom drinks in every twitch in your expression, every breathy groan that’s muffled by his hand. He leans in to rest his forehead against yours right as you cream all over his length, twitching while he fucks you through your climax. Groaning, he removes his hand from your jaw to hold onto the flesh of your hips, pistoning into your fluttering cunt even faster, harder, more desperately.

Finally, his thrusts grow erratic, and he pulls out of you at the very last second, reaching for your panties to shoot his thick cum all over the soft fabric. Tilting his head back, he swallows hard as he milks himself dry with a few more pumps of his hand before he releases his grip on you. You slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath while Tom straightens out his appearance.

“This was… worth the wait,” he pants out, reaching into his pocket to pull out a marker. He kneels down, holding onto your knee, while he writes his phone number on the inside of your thigh, marking your skin with the black ink.

“Text me when your parents are in Venice. Or Turin. Or wherever the fuck they’re going.”

You nod back at him, whispering a small "alright,"  which makes him pause. He gets back up to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before he takes off his wedding ring and drops it into the dustbin right next to the gun. Your eyes meet again, and his expression softens for a split second before he leaves to get back into the house, throwing himself back into the dreadful party and leaving you behind to walk back home with shaky legs and sticky underwear.

Two days later, your parents finally leave for their trip. You follow them to the doorstep, watch with baited breath as luggage is crammed into the family car and the GPS is set up. Then, after the exchange of hugs and goodbyes; after your mom hands you 50 quid as an extra allowance and she waves to you out of the window as your dad starts the motor, they drive off and leave you alone. The house feels dreadfully empty as you close the door and lean against the frame. A minute goes by. Then another.

Eventually, you reach for your phone and open the contact you shouldn’t have saved.

“I’m home alone.”

Sent. Received. Read. For a moment, there’s nothing. You bite the nail of your thumb, grappling with the possibility that he regrets what happened and is now trying to avoid you. And maybe that would be for the best. Maybe you’d be able to move past it and make peace with the fact that you’ll never be able to feel those hands on your skin again. But then those little dots pop up. He’s typing. He’s responding.

“Good girl. I’m coming over.”

@ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24

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[deceitfuldevout]

First and Last

Dark!Tom (The Party 2017) x ExWife!Reader

Word Count: +3,234

Warning(s): +18, Non con, ANGST, Domestic violence, Mentions of overdose/overdosing, Drug usage, Addiction, Forced drug usage, Heavy domestic violence, Forced breeding Accidental OD, Really long because I don't have a life.

Author's note(s): I wanted to post this before my trip. Idk if I want to make this into a 2 part series maybe if its good than ye 😃

You run into your soon-to-be ex-husband at a friend's party. He's determined to get a second chance. But some things never change. 

You met Tom in college. Both of you were part of the same friend group and would see each other often. He was persistent in pursuing you. Eventually mustering up the courage to ask you out. You said yes because you fell for him first. But it was Tom who fell harder. He was your first love, first kiss, first everything. After a year of dating, he finally pops the question. Everything seemed to be going fine at first. 

That was almost a decade ago. He's not the same man you fell in love with. Something inside him changed. There were times where you were unsure whether it was the drugs talking or how he truly felt. He would try to hide it but failed miserably. You can't remember how many times you've found his stash, which always resulted in an argument. You were sick of his excuses. It eventually got worse with his intake. He would arrive home half sober. You were sick of seeing him waste away like this. You remember finally deciding that enough was enough. 

After catching him at home for the fifth time, you decide to take action into your own hands. In a fit of anger, you retrieve his hidden stash and flush it down the toilet. When Tom found out his reaction wasn't what you had predicted. Not at all. He dragged you to the bathroom and demanded to know where his supply went. It was the first time he'd ever laid his hands on you. Instead of apologizing for bringing them home, Tom held you in a chokehold until you told him where they were.  

Never in your life would you imagine Tom of all people reacting in such a way. When you finally confess what had happened, he loses his temper. It terrified you how strong he became while under the influence. You were no match for his drug-fueled rage. Your wrist is still sore from how he held you down last week. There were bruises that were still healing for all the times before. But this one had been the worst punishment yet. He left you there on the bathroom floor, naked and sore. Tom hadn't bothered to look your way. He zips up his pants before leaving in search of his next 'fix'.  

That wasn't the first time he put his hands on you, but it was the first time you had left him. You received a string of desperate phone calls, voicemails, text messages all from Tom. You returned home to find him on his knees with a bouquet in hand and tears in his eyes. He apologized and promised to be a better man for you. That was shortly lived. When you arrived home from a late shift, you caught Tom using it again. This time it was different, you found Tom overdosing. You lunged towards him, "Tom?! Tom!" cradling his head in your hands, holding him close. It was the first time you've caught him. A part of you feared this wouldn't be the last.  

Tom had tried to make it up with sex, but you couldn't be around him anymore. You felt almost revolted how he didn't care. Having him around only reminds you of the pain. This time instead of throwing a fit, yelling, or crying. You simply packed all your things and left. What could you do with a man who refuses to change? Leave. You left for your mother's place, finally accepting that it wasn't your fault. 

The divorce papers were mailed to him. For a while now, Tom knew there was something wrong with him. He was just too stubborn to admit it. You'd spoken with a lawyer and there was a court date issued. In a few months from now, you will no longer be referred to as husband and wife.  

For the first time in years, you've finally let the feeling of guilt go. No longer were you going to let this define who you were. You weren't a failure as a wife. Because it was never your fault in the first place. Soon enough you were doing the things you loved again, even began to pick up a few new hobbies. That spark of joy began to return. You started dressing up in nicer clothes, going out, actually spending quality time with friends and family.  

Sometimes there would be a moment when you'd feel for Tom and wonder what he'd be up to. But then again did you really want to know? It would usually be the same thing, him being higher than a kite. Still, you couldn't help but mourn at the loss of your marriage. When you were young and promised to love each other until your very last breath. You still loved Tom, but he loved other things more. 

You were looking forward to your old college friend's New Year's party. A healthy dosage of socializing to get you out there again. You had the opportunity to catch up with everyone there. It felt as though no time had passed. You danced around, joined in some games, things were going well. But there was a lingering feeling that someone, somewhere was staring at you.  

That's when you spot him, Tom, sitting quietly at the end of the room. Your breath hitches at the sight of him twiddling his thumbs. There's a part of you that regrets not filing a restraining order. Tom always had a habit of showing up unannounced. You weren't in the mood for whatever he had to say. So, you left his sight, down the hall, to the nearest restroom. 

You sat on the counter, removing your heels for a moment. A groan escapes your lips as you rub both feet, knowing very well they would ache in the morning. Shit, you were really gonna feel that. You splash your face a few times, hoping that it would combat the summer heat. Completely unaware of the sound of the door opening. It was as if you knew who was behind you, turning around to find Tom leaning against the door. You gave him a glare, "Get out," you were in no mood for his emotional ambush. He ignores your request and calmly states, "I just want to talk to my wife," 

"We're not--" 

"Legally, yes, we are," he corrects. Always so condescending. It was one of the things you couldn't stand. How he would belittle your intelligence. It was the little remarks he'd make to shut down any effort you gave. He made you feel unwanted. He was the one who decided to push you away first.  

If only he could see past his own selfishness that you truly wanted to save this marriage. But in order to do so, he would need to admit that it was an ongoing problem. You didn't have to worry about a mistress, no. You had to worry everyday about finding him dead. You've caught him overdosing a few times. It eventually took a toll on you. To the point where you lost weight from the stress. Tom rakes his hand through his locks, "Of course you don't want to see me, nothing ever satisfies you," a snarky remark to try and get under your nerves.  

With the amount of alcohol in your system, it worked, "Are you kidding me?" you scoff, "Don't you dare lie to me Thomas, I tried everything, everything to fix us, can you say the same?" you growl in his face. Maybe it was the liquid courage that gave you a whole new attitude. Whatever it is helped with confronting him. His reaction, however, was not what you expected.

He smothers you into a deep kiss, pulling you into his embrace. You try shoving at him in an attempt to catch breath. Finally breaking free from his grip. For a moment, he's seems visibly hurt. You scold, "What you wrong with you?!" it wasn't fair. After all the hurt you've been through, Tom still tries to insert himself into your life.  

You deserved better. You try to shove him away. Instead, he shoves you against the wall, "Can't you see..." he presses his sweaty cheek against the crook of your neck, "You're my everything..." his voice sounding more desperate with each word. You scoff, "No, Tom, you can't do this..." tears began to brim, threatening to spill. His eyes are filled with worry, "No...now, baby please don't cry..." his expression is saddened but there are no tears. He kisses each cheek, ignoring your sniffling. Tom held you in place by the shoulders, "I couldn't stop thinking about you," it's true. You were his first love.  

Tom had longed to see his wife again. To feel her, touch her, caress and worship every part of her. He wanted to make things right, truly. But she just got up and left him. Like he was trash. What made her so high and mighty? He's so sick of seeing you always playing the role of a saint. For once he wants to see you get downright nasty with him. His breathing became frantic, "Can't you see? I'm addicted to you," there's a mischievous look on his face that you were more than familiar with.  

You place a cautious hand in front to create distance, "Tom, listen to me, you’re high right now, you're not in the right--" you were muffled by his hand, "No! No! Listen to me!" his voice booms. His sudden mood swing scares you. So much so that your nails dig into his wrist. He hisses in pain, "Stop it! Just stop!" he grits his teeth. When he releases his grip the first thing you do is make a run for it. But before you could even set foot out of the restroom you're pulled back by the hair. You fell on your back, hitting the marble floor.  

It sends the air out of your lungs. That's when you start crying, shriveling up into a ball, begging for him to stop. This was how your arguments always ended. Tom crouches down, "Oh...baby I'm so sorry..." He grabs a towel, pushing it against the bottom of the door to ensure that it's soundproofed. He then pulls you into a hug, locking his arms around your waist. Tom rocks you in his embrace, "Please...please don't cry shh.." He doesn't want to see anymore tears spill. He's thankful for the music being loud enough to muffle your cries. He lifted you onto the counter.  

You look down at the floor, refusing to look him in the eyes. Tom presses his forehead against yours. His eyelids flutter shut, "Let me make this right..." he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small bag, "Here... this'll help with the nerves," he swipes his fingers on his tongue before dipping it in. He swirls it a few times, coating the digits with the white powder.

When he brings it to your mouth you turn away with disgust, smacking his hand off, "Get it the fuck away from me! You fucking tweaker!" you claw at him. He's hurt by your words. How could you? He really is trying to stop. It's harder than it looks. He's tried just about anything you could name to fix his marriage. Nothing, not a damn thing worked. Every time he'd come running back to that same euphoric feeling. When you left, he started using it again, more than ever.  

If only he could get you to try it out, then maybe, you'd understand. He presses you against the counter, using his bodyweight to hold you in place. You sob, "Please...please Tommy...don't do this..." he grips both of your wrists, ignoring your pleas. He looks at you with a maddening look in his eyes. You knew he was out of it. There was always that nothingness behind his irises. To think that this man was once your devoted husband.  

He muffles your cries with a clean hand. He has an idea for the other. Tom hisses, “M’gonna make you take it, make you feel really good...” he reaches in between your legs, pushing aside the lace. Tom brings the snow coated fingers to your folds. He bites his bottom lip, concentrating on finding your opening. He slowly starts to insert them, ignoring your cries and pleas for him to stop. Tom starts pumping his coated fingers in and out of your channel.

You let out a muffled scream under his palm. Stray tears falling down and landed on his wrist. He felt almost bad, but you'll understand soon enough where he's coming from. Just wait and see. You'll love it as much as he does. Fuck, every vein in his body felt like it was on fire. It's easier getting hard while using, too easy. His dick almost hurts form how hard it was. He spat a wad on the tip, coating it with a bit of snow before hovering it over your folds. He presses it against your opening.

A wide grin spreads on his face, "Sh...please...don't flinch sweetheart I just wanted to feel... can I feel my own wife's pussy?" He moans. A mewl escapes your lips. Tom chuckles, he knew you'd love it as much as he does. His hands grip your neck, he doesn't know how strong he's squeezing, not while he's using. It felt nice feeling you clench on his length. He’s on an adrenaline high right now. He’s not going to stop anytime soon.

He rapidly thrusts his hips in and out your channel, indulging in the feeling. Two of his most favorite things combined. Oh, how he’s missed you. Tom picks up his pace. He leans down to plant wet, sloppy kisses across your bare neck. He retreats his lips, groaning against your ear, “I promise you I'll make up for everything, I'll even give you a baby like you've always wanted...” He knows it’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to be. A mother.  

Your eyes shoot wide open as you scream into his palm to stop. Tom pops a pill in his mouth. He swishes it around a few times before forcing your mouth to open. He removes his palm only for a moment, before shoving it inside. It's too much, too much...You felt like you were flying, no, falling? Your heart couldn't stop beating and every single last one of your limbs felt like jelly. A visible vein bulges on the corner of your temple. Only a faint gargle leaves your lips, "F-fuck...T-tom...please..” sniffling for him to stop.

He coos, “M'gonna give you a baby, ok? then we'll be a happy family..." He sighs in admiration. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. Always so compliant. Don’t worry, he’s going to make sure you’ll never get rid of him, “This was mine the day I put that ring on that finger..." He finishes with a roar, coating your insides with his spunk. Tom is almost satisfied, almost. He doesn’t want to waste a single drop. He carefully removes his cock from your channel, plugging you back up with his fingers.  

Tom takes the small baggie. He coats it with your arousal. A deep moan escapes his lips, "Just hide it for me, yeah, can you do that love?" Two of his fingers are buried deep into your channel, he scissors them apart a few times, testing the waters. Then he starts to push it in. You were too buzzed to even fight him off.

His fingers have always caressed that spot you just couldn't quite reach. Tom sighs, “Beautiful...fucking beautiful...” words that he hasn't used in years. Tom throws his coat on the floor. He carefully places you on it, taking no note of the blank expression on your face. He hadn’t noticed your eyes rolling back. He pressed his head against the door to hear if anyone was lurking. If the coast was clear, he could leave.

He places a chaste kiss on your cheek before leaving, placing a tie on the doorknob to ensure no one would wander inside. Tom prepares his car for the both of you. If you were thinking of escaping him, think again. He would keep you hidden until you were surely pregnant. You’ll have a part of him with you forever. He returns to the house with a pep in his step, opening the door to find you still lying on the ground.

That’s when Tom finally notices the faint frothing on the corners of your mouth. He crouches down, “No...” he should’ve seen this coming. You weren’t used to any kind of drug. You’ve never smoked a day in your life. Tom pulls you into his arms, “No no no no...no please...” he shook your unconscious form, “Please! Stay with me!” he shook harder, “Please! Fuck!” Finally breaking down. Tom couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life without you. For it to actually come true was his biggest nightmare, “Please! Don’t leave me!” He rocks both of you back and forth.

Tom tries his best to control his breathing, reaching into his pocket. He calls the one person he knows would help, "Lenn...I'm in deep shit," he chokes. Tom prays that his brother can make it on time. For years now, Lenny had been the one covering up for his little brother. He could hear Tom on the other end of the phone, “She--she’s not waking up...” That’s when Lenny races out his office in search of his twin, "Tom, listen to me, where are you?"

Whatever shit his little brother has gotten into this time, he better hope it doesn’t ruin his record. Lenny hadn't spent years in law enforcement just to lose it all in one day. If word got out that the local detective’s own brother was a tweaker, he’d have to kiss that promotion goodbye. However, Lenny isn’t going to let him get away so easily. Unlike Tom, his brother is colder, more calculated than emotional. He's always surpassed him in every way possible. Well, almost. Lenny hates to admit it, but Tom had the one thing he finally beat him at, you.  

You were the color added to his life. Without you his world was just...black and white.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Sweet Revenge | Tom (The Party) x fem!reader

Summary: Tom is acting strange and it doesn't take long for a friend to notice while at a party celebrating their mutual friend's political victory. When she steps in to question him about it, she learns more than she thought she would... but it makes their ride in the elevator a little more interesting.

Warnings: Infidelity (from multiple characters), drug use, dubious consent, semi-public sex, smut, p in v, guns, mentions of attempted murder, revenge.

word count: 3386k

Nothing Matters- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

Personal Jesus- Depeche Mode 🎵

Note: Sorry I disappeared for so long! I was dealing with some things and had to put Cillian to the side. I've missed this awesome community! I hope you all still remember me lol.

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks!

She heard about the election on the news that afternoon. Saying that she was ecstatic was an understatement. In fact, the moment she heard that Janet won (as she assumed she would) she dressed quickly and arrived at the celebratory party early. She fixed the bunched up fabric on her thigh and scratched an itch beneath the collar around her neck. She raised her fist to knock on the door when the elevator doors pinged and she turned. Tom stumbled out of the elevator, slightly disheveled and sweaty. When he noticed her he ran his hand through his hair and sniffed loudly, his eyes rolling over to meet hers. 

“Tom?” She smiled, her tone friendly and soft. Her eyes traveled up his body, dressed in a dark tailored suit. 

Tom cleared his throat before responding, strangely breathless. “Hello.” He looked behind him at the empty elevator and debated going back inside. The doors slid closed and he turned back dejectedly like a child caught in a crime. 

“You’re here early too,” she rubbed the top of her shoe down her leg, an anxious gesture. 

“Right, right… it's early. Maybe I should come back later.” He muttered beneath his breath and jabbed at the elevator call button. 

“I’m sure it's alright. I’m here early too,” she studied his nervous posture and the way his eyes darted between the hallway’s walls, anywhere but her face. “Where’s Marianne?” 

His face twitched at the mention of his wife’s name. His shirt was sticky against his skin and he wanted to leave. This was a mistake. 

“She’s coming later, told me to go ahead.” He sniffed loudly again and jerked his finger at the door behind her. “Have you already knocked?” His dark hair fell into his eyes where crow’s feet gathered. 

“No, I was just about to.” 

The elevator door opened with a second ping. Tom looked at the open doors and back to her. “Fuck all,” he cursed beneath his breath and met her at the door to Janet’s apartment. She resisted the urge to smell him, though his cologne wandered easily the short distance to her nose (notes of bergamot and spice). 

“Are you alright, Tom?” She asked cautiously and watched as his left hand flexed. He clenched his jaw and forced out a laugh. 

“Never better,” he rang the doorbell and waited anxiously as his heart raced in his chest. Janet opened the door and greeted them with overwhelming excitement. Tom’s resolve weakened and he struggled to remain level headed as he greeted his wife’s friend. This was not how it was originally supposed to go but he still had time… 

Janet invited them into the apartment and talked with her as Tom excused himself with a shaky smile. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he removed his jacket and checked the holsters on either side of his body, draped over his shoulders. Sweat pooled on his shirt and he fanned his hands over it, hoping it would dry. 

The girl watched the bathroom door while keeping a polite smile on her face for Janet who was retelling the events of the day. Loud music erupted from the speakers in the living room and she jumped, her hair standing on end for a brief moment. 

“That’s Bill, will you excuse me for a moment?” Janet wiped her hands on the front of her apron and disappeared into the next room. Her conversation with her husband was muffled by the music. She looked once again at the bathroom door and wiped her clammy hands on her forearms. There was something different about Tom and it irked her, not knowing what was going on. She was closest in age to Tom and Marianne and considered them her friends, though she didn’t actually know them well. She knew, however, that Tom had a problem with coke, all of the finance boys did. His attitude was stranger than usual, more paranoid and jumpy. The music quieted and Janet returned, humming happily to herself. As soon as she did, the doorbell rang and she spun around, clapping her hands excitedly. 

Tom splashed his face with cold water and let it run down his neck, far below his collar. He shivered beneath the water’s temperature and looked up into the medicine cabinet’s mirror. He imagined Bill in the next room, smugly splayed out in his old recliner. He imagined how good it would feel to shoot him, to get revenge against the man that defiled his wife. His wife. Anger flashed in his eyes and he bit down on the sleeve of his suit jacket, screaming silently into the fabric. He heard the doorbell ring and jumped, his heart dropped painfully into his stomach. He checked the gun in his holster for the fiftieth time that day, counting the round of bullets in the chamber. He waited until the new guests moved further into the apartment before leaving the bathroom. 

The girl watched Tom leave the bathroom and pause just before the door frame into the living room. His stomach quivered beneath his dress shirt as he breathed heavily. When she noticed him spin his wedding around his finger in an anxious instinct, she averted her eyes and flushed. He spun right around and went back into the bathroom. She followed him with her eyes, brows furrowed in extreme distress. 

Tom closed the door again and rubbed his face with his shaking hands. He rummaged through his pockets and retrieved a vial of white powder (coke… obvi). Yes, he had a problem. Obviously. Tom wiped the edge of the sink clean with his elbow and shook powder from the vial onto the surface. He arranged the powder in a line and did the line, shaking his head and sitting back against the rim of the bathtub. A smudge of powder stayed on his upper lip, providing evidence of what he’d done. He knocked his knuckles against the soft sides of his head and tried to regain control. He just needed to act normal, go into the living room and be fucking normal. He wiped away the traces of coke on the sink and fixed his hair in the mirror, trying to slick the greased strands back over his head. 

The girl twirled the cord of her necklace around her finger, her eyes stuck on the bathroom door. She jumped again when the door slammed open and Tom stumbled out, his pupils dilated and his eyes crazed. Tom bounded for the doorway into the living room and stopped abruptly. He walked back and forth, muttering beneath his breath as he did. 

“Tom?” She approached him carefully. Her voice startled him from his erratic state. He licked his lips nervously. 

“I forgot something in my car,” Tom blurted out and spun around a last time, walking quickly to the car. She followed him immediately, her eyes trained on the width of his shoulders. 

“I’ll go with you,” she insisted with a backwards glance at the living room, loud with guests. Tom didn’t respond as he made wide strides to the elevator doors. His breath was heavy and hard as he punched the call button and looked down at her, standing at his side. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. 

“I’m going with you.” She answered apprehensively. Tom cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. 

“You don’t need to do that,” his eyes flicked back at the apartment door. When the elevator doors opened he sighed, debating what to do. He knew better than to go back into the apartment. He’d have to come back another time. She followed him into the elevator and pressed the lobby button for him, her ears growing hot. Tom coughed into his closed fist and started to sweat as the doors closed. 

“Is everything alright, Tom?” She asked him directly as the doors closed and the elevator sunk below the floor. 

“Fine. Fine.” He avoided eye contact and put his hands on his hips, the crotch of his pants bunching around his thighs. He looked up at the floor numbers flashing across the screen above the doors. 

“You don’t seem fine, Tom. What the hell were you doing in there just now?” She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. Tom groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ve just had a long day.”

“Just one?” She asked him with a grunt. “You look like you haven’t slept in days… plural.” 

“Bitch.” Tom snapped and crossed his arms, mirroring her. 

The elevator jolted suddenly and the lights flickered. They stopped their bickering for a moment. She noticed the floor number had stopped at three. The buttons for each floor flashed across the board. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Tom repeated frustratedly and jabbed at the buttons. 

“Stop, you’ll make it worse.” She slapped his hands away and he groaned, resting his head against the wall of the elevator. 

“It’s stuck,” he mumbled and she nodded, her lips falling into a nervous frown. 

“Yes, it appears so.” She studied the buttons and jabbed at the one labeled “call.” 

Hello? The operator answered after a few seconds. 

“Hello, hi. We’re stuck in the elevator.”

I’ll call the fire department and maintenance. There might be a delay due to the parade traffic but we should have you out soon. Call again if anything happens.

“Damn, it sounds like we’ll be in here for a while.” 

“Fuck, just my fucking luck.” 

“You say fuck a lot,” she laughed off some of her discomfort. 

“Fuck you,” Tom added disheartedly. 

She moved back into a corner of the elevator and watched as Tom leaned into the wall, his breath fogging up the gold aluminum wall. 

“You might as well tell me what it is, now that we’ll be here for a while.” She looked down at her shoes and cleared her throat. “Just tell me,” she urged him but Tom only rolled his eyes, the reflection of it projected back at her. 

“Is it the coke?” She tried and Tom laughed. 

“You think I’m like this because of the coke?”

“You’re not giving me any other reason.” She shrugged and Tom turned to face her. 

“That’s not the reason.” 

“You have some of it left above your lip there,” she gestured to her top lip and Tom wiped his mouth quickly with his sleeve.

Tom sighed and slid down the wall into a crouching position, his hands clasped together in front of his face. He exhaled deeply and looked at the opposite wall, away from her. 

“I found out the other day that Marianne has been cheating on me.” His voice wavered as he spoke. 

“What?” She gasped softly. 

He twisted the wedding ring on his finger and chuckled darkly. 

“It’s been going on for months.” 

“Do you know who they are? The person that she’s cheating with?” She asked slowly, her brows furrowed and her heart beating quickly. 

“Yes,” he answered again with a chuckle, his voice pained. “She’s been fucking Bill.” 

“Bill?!” She slapped a hand across her mouth. “Her advisor? Bill’s cheating on Janet? What the fuck?!” The words all fell out of her mouth. Tom shook his head and with one angry movement chucked his wedding ring across the elevator at the opposite wall. The small piece of metal bounced off the wall with a sharp noise and settled between them on the floor. 

“So you were going to confront him?” She asked, everything coming together. 

He nodded and without warning, started to sob. She immediately knelt beside Tom and patted his back awkwardly. Tom, rather comedically, collapsed into her chest, his hands grappling at her sides. Her heart began to race as his face inched closer to her breast. Her hands shaked as she combed his hair (heavy with product) out of his eyes. 

“He stole my wife! He stole my wife,” he cried against her chest. 

“I’m sorry, Tom. I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she carded her fingers through his hair. The texture of his warm skin beneath her fingertips distracted her. The smell of his expensive cologne and hair product flooded her system. She resisted the urge to lick the scent from his neck, taut with tendons. Geez, she was a creep. Tom’s baby-like tears stained her shirt and made the material stick to the skin below. 

“Does Marianne know that you know?” She tried to focus herself back on the situation. 

“No, I saw it on her phone,” he hiccuped pitifully. “They’ve been fucking in my bed, our bed!” 

She shushed him softly as he started to cry again. His manic sobs racked his thick and muscular body. 

“Are you going to divorce her?” She whispered and Tom shook his head softly.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

Tom pulled away and laid his head back against the elevator wall. She could make out all of the freckles and sun spots across his high cheekbones. She sighed as she reached a hand to his face and swept a tear away from his jaw. Tom turned his clear blue eyes to her’s. His wide lips quivered slightly as he panted from all of his emotions. 

“What she and Bill did is inexcusable, Tom. She doesn’t deserve you if she thinks this casually unfaithful behavior is ok.” She was on her knees now, her thighs flexed beneath her dress. 

Tom’s eye traveled up her body, starting on her fleshy thighs. She watched him curiously. Was he doing what she thought he was? Was he checking her out? Tom’s hand rose from the floor beside him and moved to her knee. 

“Y/N…” he whispered pitifully. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she nearly choked on her own exhale. His thumb rubbed circles into her exposed skin. She knew that she shouldn’t but what more harm could it do? Tom wanted to get back at his wife and she wanted to be fucked by Tom. Win/win situation- no, stop it. Don’t look at me like that! It’s totally ethical. Besides, the way his body leaned into her brought about a powerful force of attraction between them. The streaks of graying hair caught the fluorescent light like plastic rhinestones. 

She leaned forward, into his mouth and exhaled softly against his lips. Tom kissed her first, capturing her lips into a harsh kiss. She kissed him back and tugged gently at the roots of his hair. He moaned excitedly around her lips. Words failed them as they kissed. Their hands spoke softly to each other, begging and asking for more. She pushed off Tom’s coat, exposing the holster strung between his shoulder blades. 

“What the fuck?” She whispered, her eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing with a fucking gun, Tom?” 

“I-I just wanted to get back at them, at him. I’m just so angry,” Tom panted emotionally, his hands shaking. She looked between him and the gun and sighed. 

“I can think of another way to get back at them that doesn’t involve this,” she pointed at the gun strapped around his shoulder. Tom looked up at her, his eyes wide as she closed the distance again. She rose on her knees so that she could be taller than him and cupped his jaw. 

“I can think of something that we should do to get back at them,” she whispered against his wide lips. Tom didn’t respond, his heart beating fast and not just because of the cocaine.

“It goes something like this,” she kissed him with hesitant pecks before settling into a deep rhythm. His hands finally started to move up her hips, grasping the edge of her waist. His breath labored against her and she allowed a shuttering moan to escape; a product of pent up energy. 

“Tom… Tom..” she muttered between kisses, her hands pulled up on his stiff white collar, urging him closer. 

“Mmhm..” Tom hummed softly and guided her onto her back, sitting up between her knees. He towered over her and panted, his hands fumbling over his fly. She pulled down her own underwear and kicked it off her ankles. Tom pulled down his pants slightly and boxer briefs, immediately freeing his cock from his pants. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her closer. She slid across the elevator floor and slammed against his waiting hips. She giggled nervously, her face pink. 

“Are you wet enough?” Tom asked quickly, his hand fisting his erection. His dress shirt trailed over his hands, hiding some of his actions from her view. She nodded eagerly and raised the excess of her dress, pulling the material over her upper thighs. Tom nodded breathlessly and entered her without much warning, she gasped and clenched her fists. 

Tom cursed loudly beneath his breath as he filled her up completely. Her body stretched to accommodate him and the sensation sent shivers up both of their bodies like a cold chill. Tom thrusted at a slow rhythm as he worked himself deeper inside her. She whimpered loudly and steadied herself against the hall of the elevator as she slid back and forth on the floor. 

As her body opened more and more, his thrusts became harder and faster. He leaned over her and planted his hands firmly on the floor on either side of her waist. Bringing his hips closer to her, he fucked her aggressively. Instead of dragging out his hips before each thrust, he stayed as deep as possible inside of her and thrusted farther. 

“God you’re so good,” Tom panted as his mouth fell open into a moan. His eyebrows furrowed to keep him focused. 

“Mm-Marianne is an idiot,” she whined around her words and dug her fingers into Tom’s back. Tom fucked her faster as a response, proving himself to her. 

“Fuck- take it. Take it.” He commanded and she gasped as her orgasm grew. He panted with his mouth held open, his hips thudding against her. His curses flew from his mouth in octaves that grew higher as he felt himself spilling over the edge. 

“Tommmm,” she trailed off, mumbling incoherently. He slowed down as he reached his climax so that he could see her reaction. He lowered himself closer to her and laced his fingers gently around her throat. Pulling one of her legs closer around his hip, he fucked her deeply but slow. His fingers flexed and tightened around her soft neck. He studied her closely, sweat pooling between his shoulders and the peak of his brow.

“I know, honey. I know. Marianne could never handle this but you like it when I fuck you. You’d beg me, wouldn’t you?” He whispered as his cock began to flex inside of her. She squeezed her thighs and he grunted, forcing himself through her body’s automatic resistance. She nodded and licked her lips. 

“Fuck, you feel so much better than her.” He continued to grunt, his teeth gritting. She pulled at the graying roots of his hair, her palms cradling his face. With a sharp yell, Tom finished inside her. His hips rocked against her until he had spilled everything out inside her. Their panting filled the air between them and synced into a rhythm. 

“That was fucking amazing, Tom.” She whispered, her voice weak over her racing heart. 

“Kiss me,” Tom growled. She raised her head slightly to place a kiss on his chapped lips. They kissed sweetly, until a steady beeping noise drew them away from their bodies. The elevator’s panel lit up as it was restarted. They hurriedly separated. Tom tucked in his shirt and buttoned his pants. She pulled her underwear back on and smoothed down her hair. Seconds later, the elevator doors opened to a team of mechanics. The mechanics raised their eyebrows collectively at the couple inside, their faces flushed and sweaty handprints still visible on the elevator’s walls. 

“Thank you so much,” she tried to smile normally at the men as they stumbled out of the elevator. Tom gave the mechanics one more backwards glance before they hurried for the stairwell. Slamming the door closed behind them, Tom shoved her up against the wall inside the stairwell. The sound reverberated up the cement structure, ringing in her ears. He kissed her neck, sucking parts of her flesh to make small hickeys. She sighed as she pulled his face to meet her again and kissed him, her lips pulled into a smile.

“We should do this again,” Tom mumbled darkly against her lips. She nodded and bit his bottom lip gently. 

“How about right now?”   

[sllystupidnikolaii]

I am looking for a man in finance, Trust fund, 6'5, blue eyes

[august-diehl]

CILLIAN MURPHY as Tom in The Party (2017) | dir. Sally Potter

[fuckmycrane]

He will never change — Tom

— CW: 18+!, smut. Drug use (cocaine), smut, (kind of) angst. | word count: 1.3k

— a/n: I noticed I haven't found ANYTHING Tom related and I honestly find that a crime. Only Tom can look fucking hot snorting cocaine and having a breakdown in a bathroom. I do not condone the use of drugs so, don't do it ;).

“Tom are you okay— for fucks sake—” You gasp closing the bathroom door behind you, frowning when you see your husband kneeling next to the bathtub, wiping his nose repeatedly.

“Why can’t you fucking knock the door?” He asks, not bothering to cover his fix.

Locking the door with a flick of your wrist, you step closer to him, heels clicking on the white linoleum. It’s draining to see him decaying like this, even if he constantly promises to stop— both of you he won’t. Hand on your hips, you stare at him from above with a disapproving look.

“Why? So you can hide your cocaine pity party?”

He stands up, towering in front of you. His pupils are blown, the blue of his eyes barely noticeable, you see his eyebrow twitching, as he keeps sniffing. It’s too early to deal with this. Rolling your eyes, you turn around to leave the lavatory, not in the mood to face him while he is in his high— but it appears to be that Tom has other plans.

“Where do you think you are going?” He wraps a shaky hand around your arm, yanking you towards him, and swirls you to press his chest against your back. “You can’t leave”

“Let go of me” You struggle, facing the small mirror cabinet on the wall. His free hand grasps your jaw, forcing you to meet your reflection. Calling his name again he tightens his grip. His arm circles your waist, as his hot breath tickles your neck.

“You are so beautiful” He whispers, squeezing your waist. His touch is uncontrolled, especially when he is under the influence. His body feels like a furnace behind you and you don’t have to be a genius to understand what direction he is going in.

Normally you would have pushed him away, blundered, and lost versus the mad strength that cocaine provides him with until he bends you over and forces you to submit under him; the power exchange sends a shiver down your spine, both eager to give in to his sudden lustful desires and to jab him with your elbow, cut his advances and call for a taxi to leave this place. It is not unusual to deal with Tom when he consumes, but every time it’s a bit more draining until it comes to a point where you consider divorcing him—  You start to wonder if it's worth it to stay with him. You could try to talk to him about his behavior, but he doesn't seem to listen. You feel exhausted and overwhelmed, the concern and hesitation readable in your expression.

“I love this dress on you” He continues, unaware of the turmoil inside your head. Tom’s hands let go of you, reaching for the thin straps of your black cocktail dress, sliding them down your shoulders. His warm lips kiss the side of your neck, smirking when you move slightly to give him more access, it is an instinctive reaction. “Good— good” Your husband breathes out, cupping your breasts and giggling them softly. “You are so sexy—” His teeth nibble your earlobe, forcing a quiet sigh from your part.

His erection pokes your ass, and you can’t help to grind on it, making him shiver and pant your name. It’s obvious this man loves you— but it is frustrating to feel he loves his drugs even more.

It’s easier to be oblivious, to close your eyes, and finally give in before the guilt can engulf you; Stumbling closer to the sink, your hands lay on either side of the porcelain fixture, feeling his hands leave your chest to ride up your dress. His index finger quickly finds your clit, circling it with practiced ease, continuously rubbing his hard cock behind you. His lips brush against your ear, his voice a low whisper that sends shivers of pleasure down your spine. You close your eyes, giving in to the pleasure, and let the moment consume you. Tom struggles to unbuckle his belt with one hand, lowering his trousers just enough to free his length and yank his underwear down. 

“You have no idea how much I love you” Tom is painfully aware of how ridiculous the situation is, but he is not willing to stop. In fact, he hooks his fingers in the elastic of your panties and yanks them down, letting them stretch at your ankles. Wrapping a hand around the base of his cock he prods your entrance with the tip, gasping in a husky voice when he slowly pushes in.

“Tom—” You moan, a bead of sweat rolling down your cheek. 

He stops, his hands leaving you for a painful moment. The lack of touch hits you with a mixture of frustration and anticipation, looking over your shoulder to find your husband kneeling next to the bathtub once again and unashamedly snorting another line with his cock out. Squeezing the sink with such force that your fingers go numb, you feel a wave of fury crash through you. He will never change.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You growl, glaring at him. He simply smiles at you, as if he found the situation amusing. Reaching for your underwear you finally made up your mind— to walk out, leave, call a cab, call your lawyer tomorrow morning, start the divorce process—

But he is quicker. Tom forces you back on the sink, overpowering you and yanking your hair to keep you in place. There’s a faint white spot smeared under his nose, one that you see from the mirror reflection. With a whine, you protest against his rough handling, squeezing your eyes shut and listening to him spit on his palm to smear it over his cock. Pushing your underwear down once again, Tom smirks at the sight of your wet entrance and presses his thumb over your hip. He pushes inside you in one swift movement. Your body betrays you, moaning in appreciation at the known sting of his cock spreading your warm insides. His breath grows ragged, thanks to your sinful walls clenching around him and the cocaine. His hips pull back and forth again, taking what he wants, not really caring for your needs and thoughts. 

Tom’s pace increases, clasping a hand over your mouth to keep your noises down— you are still in the bathroom and the walls are pretty thin; his thrusts becoming deeper and harder that you completely forget you were furious at him. 

“Pretty, pretty, pretty” He moans in appreciation, rutting into you like a madman. Your legs shake, barely holding up with his movements. “You will never leave me, I will never leave you” It sounds like a promise, but not the sweet one he did at your wedding, holding hands, back when things were easier— it almost sounds like a threat.

His name falls from your lips like a melody, muffled by his hand and spurring his hips. Sneaking his hand in between your thighs, the position is clumsy but he manages to find your clit again, torturing the swollen nub with his rough fingerpad and choking a moan as your pussy convulses around him. 

Shuddering with pleasure, your eyes roll back. Your climax is so close, moving his hips to meet his thrusts in a desperate attempt for more. Tom notices this, already having memorized your body like the back of his hand. He isn’t far, and when you finally reach your orgasm and crumble underneath him, he bites his tongue so hard it nearly draws blood. 

The hot sensation of his cum flooding your insides earns him a weak mewl, slowing his hips until he can’t handle the overstimulation. It’s too much, it’s terrible. The aftermath is messy and welcomes you with that dreaded feeling. You can’t continue with this. Your eyes swell up with tears of regret, cursing yourself for always falling back to the endless loop of fights and reconciliation sex. Tom pulls out with a tired sigh, watching how his release slides down your spent hole only to push it back inside with his fingers. 

Your tears fall to the sink, sobbing silently at the broken marriage you can’t seem to get out of when you hear him snort again, which causes you to sob louder.

He will never change. 

[cillirishan]

Cillian Murphy as "Tom" icons | The Party (2017)

[skintyfiia]

trying new things ft. tom from the party

[scorpiussage]

I like my men sweaty and unhinged 😌

[maybenexttime]

[tiredkitten]

Cillian Murphy as Tom in The Party (2017).

[r0ckstardr3amgal]

ITS A LITTLE BITCH!

[internally-coherent]

The Party (2017) written and directed by Sally Potter