TordTom Oneshots/Smutshots (Requests closed for now)

Holy Fuck!

Sorry for the sudden republishing. I hadn't realized there was something wrong till I went to check the chapter. Hopefully, things are right this time around  ┐( ･ิĹ̯･ิ )┌
Anyway, I genuinely don't even know what this chapter is, like I got bored at night and started with something then kept going so uh here ya go ( ˶ ̇ᵕ​ ̇˶)👍

Thomas had never felt so alone. So lost, so depressed. He didn't want his life to come down to this. To be so dependent. Honestly, he was reliant on something which he didn't even know he was ever going to experience.
Love.
He wanted it. He needed it--he fucking begged for it. But there wasn't anyone out there for him. Or at least he didn't think there were. Maybe he was looking in the wrong places. Maybe he was just being an idiot. Maybe...it was his fault? No. he couldn't possibly continue blaming these things on himself again. And if it was, he simply wouldn't know what to do.
Most of the time Tom didn't go out. He felt miserable. Jealous, really. It was like everyone had someone and everyone wasn't him. Tom wanted someone, why couldn't he have someone? A rage would build up in him. He wanted to scream. But he didn't. He kept it all inside. Everything. His feelings, his thoughts--hell, even his damn sexuality. It was all kept a secret. He contemplated coming out many times. But he knew he didn't have the balls. He was too scared. Scared of what they'll think of him. "Them" being his two only friends, Edd and Matt. He was afraid of their judgments. Would they even want him around anymore? Would they think he was some kind of disgusting freak?
Probably not.
Tom's mind ran like it never had before. He had to sit up. Sometimes they hurt. Emotionally, that is. It felt like a million sharp little knives piercing his heart. He'd shatter if Edd and Matt kicked him out. He knew it. But it would be his fault anyway. Which is why he'd never tell them. Or, he told himself he wouldn't. Not in a million years.

Tom was tired. Oh, so very tired. Tired of being lonely. He wanted to go out but if he did he would only be reminded of his loneliness. Maybe all he needed was someone to talk to. Someone who'd really listen to what he had to say. Maybe Edd? No. He wouldn't work. Edd likes to talk. Edd talks too much. How about Matt? Matt's nice. No. Matt talks too. About himself mostly. Tom sighed. He needed to get out. He told himself he needed to get out.
So he did.
Thomas didn't know where he was going. It was all blurry. His throat burned and his palms felt sweaty. It rained. Hard. Tom didn't care though. He was already drowning--in his own tears. His sweaty hands had been shoved in his pockets and he kicked his feet down the groggy sidewalk. He kept his head low. He didn't want anyone to see him. Ironically, Tom didn't want to let anyone in. He only contributed to his agony. But he didn't know it.
There were so many distractions--far too many. A donut shop, a park, a mall. None of these appealed to Thomas or caught his eye in any way. He only ignored them as he did the others. It was about time he learned to properly shut things out. What Tom was looking for was a bit more adult. Actually, it was a lot more adult. He was looking for a bar. He ran out of Smirnoff a while ago and wasn't making any plans on becoming sober any time soon. He didn't feel like making a trip to the grocery. He didn't feel like crying in his bedroom again. He felt like drinking, and the only thing that could help was a-
Woah.
Woah.
Tom stopped dead in his depressing tracks. Bright lights, loud music, hard liquor. Finally.
This could help some.
Tom wandered in casually. Unsuspecting, he hadn't realized that his assumption of what could be inside was completely wrong. The music was loud. Too loud. It hurt Tom's ears for a while. He felt like crying. He stopped himself from crying. Tom liked to cry over loud music. The place felt claustrophobic. It was making Tom nauseous. He felt like throwing up. He stopped himself from throwing up. The thing that just so happened to catch Thomas' wandering eye, however, was the scandal-clad, muscular male dancing on a stage.
Near a pole.
Sensually.
Sexily.
Attractively.
Tom couldn't keep his eyes off the man. His eyes darted around the performer's body. Chiseled chin, big brown eyes, six-pack abs, hot. There were a lot of women in the crowd. Mostly those who looked to be in their thirties. It kind of weirded Tom out. He stood there, in the middle of the walkway, staring at the man. He didn't want to be in the crowd. He was sure he was going to throw up if he did. He didn't want to associate himself with them. There weren't a lot of men in the crowd, Tom didn't feel safe. And by safe, he meant he didn't fit in. It was okay for the women to watch, the man was probably straight. But Tom? Oh no, that show wasn't for him. He had to wait until the ladies came on.
Right?
Tom shook the thought out of his head and looked around once more. There was a bar but he didn't want anything from there. The bartender was a guy. A pretty attractive guy at that. Tom didn't want to do anything stupid. He didn't want to say anything stupid. Then he'd look stupid. So instead, he stayed where he was, blocking people's way and staring at a male stripper. Looking stupid. He had to leave. But he couldn't. He couldn't take his eyes off the man on stage. He became fixated on his movements, his body, and his muscles. Tom wanted the man to hold him. Weirdly enough, that was his first thought. He wanted the man to wrap his strong arms around him and just hold him. He wanted him to kiss him. He wanted him to tell him how much he loved him, and how much he cared about him. Then he wanted the man to use those arms to take him up to his room. No matter what condition it was under, Tom wanted the man to pin him up to a wall and use him. He wanted the man to fuck him mercilessly, to not stop until-
Woah.
Woah.
Tom's face felt hot. Shit. He had to go.