#he flirts with tom wambsgans

[tolerateit]

being tom wambsgans is such a wild ride because you've been flirting with your father in law to win your divorce but then he dies and you're not sure if you'll be jobless and single so you cling to your wife's cousin for support and then suddenly you're responsible for the state of the country and you have to elect a fascist as president even though you didn't really have any say in the whole decision but then you have to miss your father in law's funeral but your wife told you she's pregnant and now she's drinking in front of you and you're not sure how to cope with the trauma of having to deal with the body firsthand and of maybe you're breaking down because grief can be tricky but maybe you're just sosososo sleepy. who knows

#meg talks #Succession #tom wambsgans

[swordsinflame]

“tom wambsgans, finally made me feel something”

the underlying context of this made me want to hug tom. he’s still a softie inside i dont care what you say. shiv’s lines are soooo cutting, im enjoying their toxic ways of flirting but my little heart is aching as well

#succession #tomshiv #shiv roy #tom wambsgans

[twinprime]

please interact: gemini risings, tom wambsgans apologists, girls who want boys who like boys to be girls who do boys like they’re girls who do girls like they’re boys, people who own more than five tote bags, people who have the american psycho hey paul monologue memorized, oat milk fans, picky eaters who try their hardest to eat new foods, boys with pink hair, he/him femmes, marla singer kinnies, people who unintentionally based their personality off of a character from a 2000s coming of age film, sagittariuses who flirt with their entire friend group, people who use cross country road trips as a form of therapy, kendall roy coded kendall roy girls (gn), menthol smokers, people who use <3 !! and :) as punctuation, people who couldn’t afford to have a webkinz collection as a kid, people who dress like tyler durden, beach boys fans under the age of 25, people who found out about the death of the queen through a supernatural meme, high camp individuals, vegetarians who love cannibal media, george harrison stans, miffy lovers, trans drag queens and kings, people whose lives were changed forever after watching the ode to joy flash mob video, and anyone who is finally starting to love life and everything it has to offer

#20 :) #decided to be a little evil with this one actually. i’ll see if anyone notices #moochies pls reblog i wanna see how similar we are <333 #strq.txt

[ezlebe]

what if tom scratches greg's back where he can't reach when he has sand mites

Greg scratches across the back of his neck, glancing slowly between Rhea and Uncle Logan, as the silence settles, then to Shiv, where she’s smirking into her glass. The group begins to shrink, but the awkward lingers, as a staff member wanders in to whisper a few words in Rhea’s ear, then when Gerri gets a call. It seems to signal most of the non-family to find something to do, too, but Greg, unfortunately, doesn't have anyone that isn't in here already to pull him out.

”Hey, so you kind of blew it?” Shiv says, laugh at the edge of her voice, throwing her head back to peer at Tom behind her chair. “I ask you to flirt, and instead you make some VIP bondage crack that falls like a lead sinker. How did you manage to land me, again?”

It’s something that should sound like a joke, probably, but it lands a little heavy. It doesn’t lead to an eye roll or a mocking, cartoonish voice, like it should, just Shiv awkwardly looking not quite up at Tom, while Tom stares down with a too blank smile at her shoulder.  

“Bullshit, Wambsgans could never flirt,” Roman interjects, eyes rolling all but up inside his head. “He’s a wear-you-down type, all the way. A no is just another opportunity for a yes.”

Tom all but flinches, for some reason, shoulders squaring rapidly under his blazer. He tightens his jaw, markedly, setting his glass onto a table while his other hand rubs loosely at his side pocket.

“Jesus Christ, Rome,” Shiv says, a sneer flitting across her mouth, as she lightly taps the rim of her glass. “Shows what you know.”

Greg glances back and forth, an idea forming to get maybe him and Tom out of here. He takes a pair of steps forward, hasty and clearing his throat. “Hey, uh – do you know where I could buy a – an itch cream, maybe?”

Roman scoffs with an upward, exaggerated tip of his head. “I don’t even know where the fuck to buy that at home.”

“But it’s like really – I need something, I think? I think I could be in real trouble if it –”

“Will you stop talking about it, if we go find a pharmacy?” Tom interrupts, raising his brows, then sighing and stepping out from behind the chairs. He reaches out and grabs Greg’s elbow, yanking a little hard, toward the exits of the room. “I’ll take you on this goose chase if you never, ever mention fleas again.”

“Can do,” Greg says, turning sideways a bit to slip out into the hall when Tom neglects to hold the door open properly behind himself.

“No, you can’t,” Tom sighs, letting go of Greg’s arm with a harsh sigh. “But I appreciate the effort of a lie.”

Tom takes them outside, passing Rhea, who ignores Greg’s wave.

“She’s kind of having a hard time, eh?”

“She walked herself into this,” Tom says, a peculiar quietness to his tone. “The den of well-dressed wolves.”

“Sucks,” Greg mutters, rubbing at his nose, as Tom and he pause just outside the doors on the steps. He leans forward on his toes, catching the sound of a car starting, then seeing one gradually beginning to move from the ring at the side of the hotel. “She really doesn’t fit in, you know? Like worse than – than other people, even.”

Tom lifts his head with a snort. “You fit in, bud. Too well, sometimes.”

“Man, I dunno?” Greg mutters, but that could be effected by his current physical circumstances; too hard to feel he really fits in anywhere when he wants to strip out of his actual skin.

“Stop scratching,” Tom sing-songs, somewhat threateningly, as he rounds the other side of the Mercedes after a wave at the driver. “You’re making it worse.”

“They’re biting me,” Greg says, climbing into his own seat, as the sensation urging him to scratch almost burns between his shoulder blades.

“We’ll get you a cream, maybe some flea bath,” Tom says, gesturing pointedly at the driver, who seems to understand that they need a pharmacy. Hopefully. “A Frontline Plus.”

“I’m like a person, Tom,” Greg says, glancing up to the driver while he lifts his hand to scratch just behind an ear.

Tom reaches out and grabs Greg’s wrist, forcing it down to the armrest. “You’re a person with fleas. And if you give them to me, I will be furious.”

“You’re, like…” Greg glances down, biting at his cheek. “Giving them to yourself?”

Tom narrows an eye, as he slowly releases hold of Greg.

“Can I see your phone?” Greg asks, as the car shifts into drive and begins to pull around the driveway.

Tom glances sideways with a frown, but he’s already reaching into his pocket. “Why?”

“I don’t have, you know, international data?”

“Good Lord,” Tom says, a flat pinch at the corner of his mouth. “Do I need to add you to my plan?”

Greg shakes his head, heat flaring across his ears; he wants to be more offended, can feel it surge and settle, but Tom does seem like honest rather than taunting in the question. “No, I – I can pay for it. I just didn’t think about it? So I forgot to – ”

“Alright, alright,” Tom says, unlocking and handing over the phone with an upward eye roll. “Don’t save any weird pictures.”

Greg takes the phone and starts searching for sand mites, then feels a sweep of a crawl down his itchy back. “It says they can lay eggs in my skin,” he says, scrolling down the phone, then back, looking up at Tom while his thumb hovers over a horrible picture. “What if I have – ?”

“You do not,” Tom says, drawing out the words in an upward, condescending pitch.

The car pulls to a stop, just as the driver clears their throat. “Sirs, we’re at a Lloyds.”

Greg blinks rapidly and peeks out the window.

“Oh,” Tom intones, plainly also startled at the entirely too-short drive.

“Do you desire me to – ?”

“We can g-go in ourselves,” Greg says, hurriedly, reaching for the door handle, then wincing when it snaps under his hand. Shit. He laughs awkwardly, as the locks clunk, then pushes at the door. “Thank you!”

“How about you go ahead,” Tom says, as he gets out of the car on the other side. He waves back toward the opposite direction. “We’ll walk our way back.”

Greg raises his brows up his forehead, glancing up and down the street, then back over at Tom.

The driver nods, leaning back between the seats. “Would you like my mobile, sir?”

“Sure,” Tom says, reaching out toward Greg with a pair of snaps of his fingers.

Greg wets his lips with a sigh through his nose, as he hands over the phone.

The car pulls from the curb with a soft rumble echoing the somewhat close, narrow street. It’s lined with small cars and a few meandering pedestrians, and Greg is reminded of the last time he was in the UK, to some detriment to his mood. He’s not sure how to clarify a feeling that veers between a guy he’d… gotten to know actually dying and getting wailed on for trying to tell Tom about a less than stellar development. It isn’t great.

“You want to walk?” Greg says, backing up onto the sidewalk next to Tom in front of the pharmacy.

“I’ve never been here, Greg,” Tom says, taking a deep breath, as if he’s inhaling the essence of this little village. “I’d kind of like to see it – you should, too, you’re the one with the family connection.”

Greg furrows his brows slightly, glancing down the street a second time. He feels his mouth flatten. “…Right.”

“I won’t tell, if you don’t,” Tom amends, then huffs, turning around to pull open the door of the shop behind them. “Not that anyone will ask.”

Greg shrugs some, then turns his head to look at the sign that advertises a pharmacy above them. He takes a breath, following Tom, and glances at the low lintel as he narrowly passes underneath it. “Everything is sort of short?”

“Maybe that’s why your grandfather had to leave.”

Greg scratches at the back of his neck with a huff. “I think he wasn’t, like… even ten?”

“And already big, no doubt. Now lets find you some calamine lotion and an antihistamine,” Tom says, peering at the also low shelves with a few clicks of his tongue. “And flea shampoo.”

Greg picks up a bottle of shampoo after trading Tom’s phone back and forth, searching remedies that don’t seem to be a cure. He kind of wishes his mom was here – the essential oils don’t like seem to work a lot for what she wants, but… like, this is real skin stuff.

“You having a breakout?” The pharmacist asks, at the till, as Greg sets down a bottle of shampoo. “Need any help with that?”

“No, uh,” Greg shakes his head, scratching at his neck before he even realizes he’s lifted his hand, then shoving it back down to his pocket. “Sand mites.”

“Sand mites, you say,” the pharmacist says, picking up the bottle to scan with a narrow look at Greg. “Here?”

“Uh, no,” Greg says, awkward, stuffing his hands in his pockets, while his shoulders and back quiver with itch. “Just around.”

“You all brought the fleas to Scotland?” The pharmacist asks, voice lifting accusingly at the tail of the question.

“Just the bites,” Tom says, waving a cream box, then smacking it onto the counter next to the oatmeal shampoo. “Worry not.”

The pharmacist doesn’t seem convinced, but packs them up without further comment toward the concern. They hand off the items in an oversize recycle tote, peering at Tom’s card with a tut. “How’s that pronounced, then?”

Tom doesn’t quite sigh, but it’s an adjacent sort of breath. “Wambsgans.”

“Huh,” the pharmacist nods, handing back the card. “Enjoy the country.”

“You too!” Greg says, bright and reflexive, then immediately hangs his head outside on the sidewalk. He does sigh, rubbing hard at his face. “Do you, maybe have a – uh, a cigarette?”

“You know I don’t, buddy,” Tom says, switching the bag between hands and reaching up to unceremoniously begin scratching Greg right between the shoulder blades. “Is it really that – ?”

Greg shudders down to his toes and exhales what might awfully be a moan before he can help it.

Tom sputters out a laugh, his face lighting up while he wheezes out a series of choking giggles. He bends at the waist, though his hand keeps rubbing at Greg’s back, as he covers his face with the other, bag swinging upward, and visibly turning red in laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Greg says, faintly, ears burning and looking down at Tom, something swelling brightly in his chest the longer he hears the laughter, then feels a shudder down his spine when Tom accidentally digs his fingers in another good spot. “It, like – it just itches bad, you know?”

“Sure,” Tom says, clearing his throat, his hand moving up and down now with fewer shakes of wheezing, gulping breaths. “I was going to ask if you wanted to get a tasteless British nibble before we make the harrowing mile long journey back for the castle.”

“Oh, uh…” Greg wets his lips, pretending he’s looking up and down the street, rather than all of his worldly attention focused at the hand scratching soothingly down his back. “I… um.”

“I want one,” Tom says, his hand dropping cruelly from Greg’s back while he steps away and across the quiet street, toward a well-signed fish and chips company on a distant corner. “Let’s just begin and end on that note.”

“Okay,” Greg says, following while fisting his hands in his pockets to keep from continuing where Tom left off. He realizes, belatedly, Tom doesn’t seem in much of a hurry to get back, but they don’t really have anywhere to be until tomorrow, and… It is nice out?

The choice is a bit unexpected, though, with prices that are pretty low and food that is both fast and greasy. He knows Tom could’ve called the car, found somewhere, someplace to throw down his card, but instead he’s laughing at a joke by the cashier about being American in a place that smells permanently of old fry oil.

“You want a brownie, bud?“

“Uh, yeah, sure?” Greg says, dragging his teeth across his lower lip. “I’m going to – ” He reaches out and takes the bag. “Yeah.”

Tom nods and waves off, turning back to the cashier with a lean forward and a click of his tongue. “He’s going to go do some blow in your bathroom, real quick.”

The cashier offers an equally serious nod, visibly biting back a smile while ringing up the brownie. “Not sure there’s an option for that on the screen here.”

“We’ll just have to program one in real quick, huh?” Tom says, as the door closes behind Greg to the restroom.

Greg glances between all the bottles and boxes in the bag, then tears open the calamine lotion and the eurax. He slathers both on his back, across his shoulders, taking an instant to wonder if they might not be good to mix, but then the sensation cools and settles his skin, and it no longer matters in the moment. It doesn’t completely get rid of the itching, but… fuck, does it feel a lot better.

He’s like… He knows technically it’s not Connor’s fault? But he could’ve been like a little nicer about it totally being his fault.

Tom is still chatting with the cashier when Greg slips back beside him. He glances over, brows going up, and pushes away from the counter. “You feeling better?”

“Actually, yeah,” Greg says, holding out the bag between them.

Tom rolls his eyes, but takes the bag and hangs it on the back of the chair at a small table. “I drive you out here, I buy this, I buy the food, then you make me carry it – just who do you think I am?”

Greg shrugs and glances toward the counter. “I could –”

“No,” Tom scoffs, then looks over his shoulder at a loud call of his name. He paces quick back over to the counter, nodding mock-solemnly at the cashier, who offers what looks to be a real grin while handing over the food over the glass.

Greg wonders, suddenly, why Shiv wanted Tom to, oddly but evidently, flirt with Rhea. He hadn’t heard what Tom said, or how he said it, aside for what Shiv repeated, but it couldn’t have been that bad – like, Tom isn’t so great at first impressions, and he’s awkward, and a little harsh, sometimes to all of the above, but he’s pretty funny most of the time. He could only really tell that Tom didn’t exactly… seem into it? It probably just came off that way, because he’s like on the spot, maybe? …Is Shiv into her?

Greg clears his throat, looking up from a wrapped, crispy filet Tom sets in front of him. “So, like. Does… Shiv want like a – a something with Rhea? And you?”

Tom glances up with an actual wheeze around a fry. Or a chip, or whatever. “Excuse the fuck me, Greg?”

“Like Shiv said she, uh – She asked you to flirt with her?” Greg says, as his voice pitches, glancing around the small table and grabbing the cup from next to Tom, hoping it seems more natural than it feels. He doesn’t know that Tom is like necessarily projectile-prone, but he also isn’t not. “Right? And I’m like, you know, questioning why?”

“Not that it’s any business of yours, you proud extortionist, but…” Tom briefly, visibly bites at his cheek, then shakes his head hard. He doesn’t seem angry, thankfully, just sort of oppositely subdued. “No. It was meant to cause dissent in the Logan – Rhea camp.”

Greg stares for a pair of beats, slowly reaching out and picking up a fry, as he reluctantly lets that roll around in his head. He feels his nose curl, stuffing the fry into his mouth. “Ew.”

Tom wags his brows, until suddenly his expression folds and twists, wiping salt across a napkin with a scoff. “Bombed that, huh – no charm left in Tom.”

“She’s like super tense, you know, she… I bet she couldn’t flirt with anyone right now?” Greg says, in a bit of a mindless rush. He leans into the table and sets his elbow on the edge, thinking briefly about Tom’s bubbling laugh while scratching his back, or his sly lines at the cashier, then flinching far away from the temptation to dwell on any of it. “And like, she’s not that great.”

“Why, Gregory, you don’t find Ms Jarrell an enticing prospect?” Tom asks, in a startlingly good British accent, as a small curl of amusement peeks at the edge of his mouth.

“Oh, no, I don’t like – like, uh,” Greg pauses, then swallows hard, digging the toe of his shoe into his opposite heel under the table. “She’s really short.”

“Of course, what am I saying?” Tom says, slipping back into his normal voice with a huff through his nose. He wags a fry while offering a cock of his brows. “You wouldn’t want to risk rolling over and smothering her in your sleep.”

Greg grimaces with a weak snort. “You know, my mom is sort of her size. And my… my dad is mine, I think.”

“You think?” Tom repeats, a dubious curl across his lips.

Greg shakes his head, a tight feeling winding his chest, as he drops his chin to take the last fry. “I guess.”

Tom is quiet a beat, then clears his throat, crumpling the paper up in his hands. “I guess it’s possible, then. You ready to get out of here?”

“Sure,” Greg says, taking the plastic wrapped brownie and staring at it for a beat, the starting to unpeel it, as he follows Tom toward the entrance. “You’re in like kind of a – a weird mood, Tom?”

“What does that mean?” Tom says, looking backward, as he shoves at the door.

“Walking and, like…” Greg wags the brownie, as he slips ahead of Tom out onto the sidewalk.  “Normal food.”

“We go to food carts, regularly.”

“Yeah,” Greg says, rolling his head, slightly, as he pinches his mouth flat. “But that you still like frame as culture, you know?”

Tom stares for a beat, then he sighs at length through his nose. “I’ll call the car for you,” he says, while he pulls out his phone. “You don’t seem like you got much of a nap after we got here.”

“No, it’s like okay,” Greg says, realizing uncomfortably that he doesn’t want to go back without Tom, where his cousins or sitting alone are his only two unwelcome options, or enjoy the idea of Tom out by himself when he wanted his company. “It’s nice out, you know, I just… don’t get it, I guess.”

“We’re traveling, Greg,” Tom says, flicking his hand around in front of them at the houses and shops along the narrow street. “It’s about seeing the country. You can’t do that inside a car or a hotel.”

“Yeah, uh, true,” Greg says, then looks down at his feet with a lift of his toes. “But you don’t think we’ll get blisters?”

“You don’t think you’ve walked a mile or two in those shoes running around the office every day?” Tom says, raising a brow and turning down the sidewalk toward where the car came from the hotel. “And didn’t you used to walk in?”

Greg tears off a corner of the brownie, slipping into step beside Tom with a shrug. He offers it with a turn of his hand across Tom’s chest. “I’ve never thought about it.”

“You’ll be fine, Greg,” Tom says, taking the chunk and throwing it into his mouth with a hum. “If you get some, the pain’ll just distract you from the itch.”

“Still not great,” Greg mutters, eating his own piece of the brownie. He jumps slightly when Tom’s hand lands on his back again, further down, around where he hadn’t quite gotten with the cream in his hasty bid to just get it on as quick as possible.

He hadn’t meant the itch was still real bad, because it is a bit better, but it’s not an unwelcome gesture or weight across his back. It maybe should be, considering the papers he feels hanging over his head, or the recording in his phone stuck in airplane mode at the hotel, or just generally why he has either of those things, because Tom holds just as much, or worse, over his head for the same reason, but… It’s just nice. It’s Tom doing him a sort of favor, and it feels good, even, against the itch.

He looks up from balling the empty, chocolate-stained plastic wrap to see someone looking over from across the street. He frowns a little at their attention, then wonders with a start if it’s because of how it might look – Tom with his hand across Greg’s lower back, as they take some afternoon walk.

Greg swallows hard, stuffing the plastic into his pocket, and drags himself away from that thought, too.

~

The shampoo sort of works, so Greg’s scalp is mostly saved, but the creams lose effectiveness after only hours. He feels worse than he had yesterday, his back and shoulders crawling, flattening the tube and looking for any relief at all.

“Just sit the fuck down, Greg,” Tom snaps, at the University, after Greg has somehow lived in an exponentially worse misery than the day before, and that’s not even counting his grandpa’s like whole deal. “Calm your twelve foot tits.”

“It’s driving me crazy,” Greg says, slumping down onto the lunch table and looking up at Tom, who glowers back with hands on both hips. “I’m suffering very much, Tom.”

“I can tell,” Tom says, voice lifting mockingly, as he reaches out to tug at the shoulder of Greg’s jacket, plainly urging him to take it off. He pulls the cream from the outer pocket, after it’s off, then lets it fall limp to the table. “You’re thirty times more whiny than usual, which is impressive, considering the already high bar set by yesterday.”

Tom leans forward and guides Greg’s head to the side with a slow gesture to look at his back, then immediately, unhelpfully starts to hiss under his breath. He reaches startlingly under Greg’s head, tugging at the buttons of his collar with a jerk.

Greg feels his shoulders tighten. “What?”

“You sensitive-skinned moron – you hurt yourself, that’s what,” Tom says, pulling Greg’s shirt uncomfortably from the tacky, over-creamed skin across his nape and shoulders. “Scratched yourself raw and broken into hives. This is why you read labels. It says reapply every six hours and this – ” He waves the flattened tube, then taps Greg twice across the forehead with it. “Is emp–ty, Gregory.”

Greg wets his lips. “Uh…”

“I’ll be back,” Tom says, sighing hard, throwing his hands up while he turns around on a heel. “You sit here and don’t do anything.”

Greg clears his throat, embarrassed heat flushing his neck. “I thought you like wanted me to read…”

“Don’t even start,” Tom says, briefly turning around, nearly looking like he might throw the tube.

Greg reaches over his shoulder and scratches, only to hiss in pain, and now it stings, again, too. He groans low into a whine and drops his head.

Tom reappears with what looks to be a pack of baby wipes. He smacks it down onto the table, standing in front of Greg, and peels the seal and rips out one of the wipes. “Now all I’m missing is a little hat and white fucking uniform. Duck your head so I can get to your torn up back, bud – I don’t want to make you strip out here.”

Greg closes his eyes, hissing as Tom rubs a wipe under his shirt, and shudders slightly at the attention and the cool damp. He drops his chin, forehead hitting across Tom’s sternum, and inhales sharp when the attention drops deeper down the back of his shirt, pulling at his collar. The pressure is soon replaced with warm fingers, gently inspecting the faintly stinging, still itchy damage in wide circles.

“You need to just leave this,” Tom says, voice firm, picking up another wipe with a rasp of the container. “I don’t care if it itches, stop touching it. If I see you scratching again I’m getting you a fucking shock collar to go with your flea paraphernalia, Doderick.”

Greg hums and turns his head so Tom’s wrist sweeps heavily against his scalp. He should pull away; he isn’t going to move.

“Are you listening?” Tom asks, his voice softening, as the second wipe is discarded and his hand shifts so his two middle fingers parallel down the knob of Greg’s spine, while the pinky and pointer finger cradle his head down his nape.

Greg offers a weak nod, letting his head relax against the hold.

“Seems more like you’re just falling – ?” Tom goes silent, grip tightening almost painful on Greg’s neck, though he might not realize it. “When did your grandfather get here?”

“Dunno,” Greg lies, exhaling lengthy into Tom’s chest with a mumble.

“He is staring into me, Gregory,” Tom says, his voice now low and hissing through audibly clenched teeth. “I feel like human glass.”

“He just, you know,” Greg says, carefully ignoring the tiny, horrible little voice in the back of his head, threatening to grow with little bites of anxiety, like it had yesterday, saying that he is going to be judged and embarrassed; he’s pretty sure, though, working for Uncle Hitler is already the worst move to make in front of Ewan. The judgment hath passed. “…Looks like that.”

“And he is moving very slowly, now, across the quad,” Tom says, tensely, his chest motionless except for his heart thumping under Greg’s ear. He all of a sudden exhales a loud, punched out breath. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph; I think I need an exorcism.”

Greg ignores a weak impulse to turn around and look, just to see what particular sour face that he might see – probably that face when Greg gets too weird. Yeah, Tom’s hand is halfway into his shirt, but it’s down his back, a pile of wipes next to them. It’s touchy, but not… intimate. He’s just helping Greg out. A favor.

Tom pulls away a few seconds later, after squeezing another time across Greg’s pained nape. He clicks his tongue, piling the tube and wipes together. “We have that party tonight and you’ve got a very nice tuxedo you will not scratch out of,” he says, sternly, then cuffs Greg softly under the chin, forcing him to look up. “Got it?”

Greg blinks slowly, feeling the ghost of that pressure under his chin. He swallows hard, staring into Tom’s eyes, far brighter blue than the overcast sky, and feels his heart thud up against his sternum; oh fuck. “Ye-yeah. Got it.”

#tomgreg #did you know scotland doors are standardized at 80in #i learned that for zero reason for this fic

[gwilymz]

bestie there has been a severe lack of tom wambsgans smut and I’m kindly asking that you please write literally ANYTHING about him,,, maybe like him and a younger partner,,, him being so experienced and his partner not being experienced,,, idk just something dilfy I beg🫶🫶🫶

yesss… you’re like an assistant to him and he is always the sweetest, but there’s something about seeing him becoming genuinely mad (not at you, of course) but just at business, at life, at getting walked over. he should not have confided in you, but one day as you hand him his coffee he’s telling you how sick he is of feeling disposable and how much he’s done for the roy’s, for everybody and how he just wants to feel appreciated for once. and then you shrug and tell him “well i appreciate you tom,” and give him this sweet smile. and he doesn’t want to get the wrong idea, but at this point you’ve been flirting for awhile now, not caring if your skirt rides up, or if your shirt is a tad bit revealing. lingering touches on the shoulder and endearing names.

“you do?“ he asked, looking at you with a precious smile. his hand reached for your knee, rubbing his thumb along the bone.

“of course i do,” you nodded. you had had a crush on him for awhile; it was hard to work for an excessively successful, smart, funny man and not feel something. your hand instinctively fell on top of his, rubbing the skin of his knuckles; his wedding band was gone. you didn’t ask.

and then his hand inched higher, and you let it. and he leaned in, pulling your chin towards him, and you let him. he pulled you into his lap and bunched your skirt up, moaning into your mouth as he pushed your panties to the side to push his fingers inside you.

your hands found his hair, pulling and begging for him to get even closer, no matter how close the two of you already were. and then you fumbled with his belt, pulling his hard cock out and he pulled away, grabbing your wrists with one hand as he lined himself up with your cunt with the other one.

you whined, trying to sit on his cock, but he wouldn’t let you. “ah ah ah,” he teased, letting your wrists go. “let me.”

you nodded, giving him a doe-eyed, desperate look that made him twitch. and then he pushed into you, all at once, pulling your hair and grabbing your ass, his lips attaching to your exposed throat.

it was bad, what you were doing. fucking in his office, after hours, as his assistant who was younger than him. quite a bit younger.

but that was what made you so wet for him, so eager. he pounded into you, not caring about the noise, the screeching of the uncomfortable chair beneath you, just chasing his orgasm.

“you feel so fucking good,” he said, lowly. his voice had never been so deep, so silky.

when he was about to cum, he pulled out, telling you to be a good girl and get on your knees. he hated how much he loved the dynamic, how wrong it all felt. but he had spent too long not getting what he wanted. and now, he was going to get exactly what he fucking wanted.

“open your mouth,” he cooed. and you did, just in time for his cum to paint the soft flesh of your tongue, your eyes catching his. you looked like a mess, but you were gorgeous to him, letting him do what he wanted—no, wanting him to do what he wanted.

(wrote this on a whim so i am hoping it’s not horrific… am thinking about tom in a new light how 🙊😯) pls feel free for more blurbs however i just cannot think of roman in a sexual way i am sorry

#tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans smut #succession #love him #succession fanfic #tom wambsgans fic

[zalrb]

Succession 4.06

So an anon asked me to review Succession the way I do OTH/Skins/TVD etc so let's try it out.

I never thought I'd ever feel nostalgic seeing Logan's face

"Good to see you, dad" and the video is paused on this face?

this show is so fucking good.

3. *Succession theme song plays* me:

4. Is this how billionaires flirt?

5. Lol, really, Shiv, the guy who possibly sends frozen blood to an ex? Come on.

6. I mean he's Alexander Skarsgard but still.

7. I wonder what it must be like for him to not be the tallest person on set considering he's 6'4 and Nicholas Braun is 6'7.

8. "BOYS, you're not good at this." She speaks the truth, Kendall and Roman, this is fucking bush league.

9. You are not. serious. people.

10. Kendall's outrageous demand to build a mock house overnight reminds me of this boss I had who would want to switch up where we would do events the day of the event and we had to be like, we can't just ... change it, there are permits and licences we need...

11. "Tom Wambsgans, finally made me feel something." I have to say I do quite like toxic flirty tomshiv.

12. "Can I just say … it’s kind of hard to make houses seem like tech because we’ve had houses for a while…" COUSIN GREG.

13. "Oh my God, you're fired." ROMAN.

14. "I'm not crazy about, you know, dying." "Yeah, it's bullshit." That is indeed my vibe.

15. This scene with Roman and Gerri is breaking my heart, he yearns for her respect so badly.

16. Kieran better win all the fucking emmys.

17. Oh their expressions, my god.

why are they doing this to me?

18. GIVE. KIERAN. THE EMMYS.

19. "Fuck off, you fired Gerri. Shiv's godmother, Gerri??" Oh, I thought Shiv was being facetious when she called Gerri her godmother, I didn't think she actually was her godmother??

20. "grumble quote grumble quote" I fucking love Kendall. He's terrible but oh my god, the dialogue.

21. I know on this blog there's a lot of discussion about how Shiv isn't my favourite, but let's talk about the skilful bit of acting Sarah did in this scene, man, the various emotions she goes through?

22. I do find this scene with Tom to be interesting though because Shiv looks at him like she's seeing who he is for the first time

and I wonder if it's because he's finally talking about wanting money and liking money or if it's because she realizes he can be acerbic and mean-spirited and basically communicate in a way she communicates with everyone else in her world and she's intrigued.

23. "It's enough to make you lose your faith in capitalism." KENDALL.

24. Kendall has taken kind of a backseat this season compared to Roman and Shiv but man, Jeremy's acting, his expression of complete abandonment when Roman backs out?

25. As someone who does like Ken, I'm glad his speech went well and the other shoe didn't at least drop in this episode. I was like he got a mini win and I'm happy.

26. Shiv was pretty diabolical this episode with the two of them, though.

27. Roman replaying that manipulated Logan's video over and over, about how he always gets it wrong, MY HEART.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 98

Swap Meat/The Poison Sky

"Swap Meat"

Plot Description: While investigating a school, Sam is the target of a teenager's body-switching spell

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died.

"I would like to purchase and alcohol please" this kid who has freaky friday'd Sam is already precious to me. Sorry. This kid...is me when people roughly my age are subtly dropping hints that they're flirting. This kid was already a gigantic nerd (affectionate), but now he has Sam Winchester's frame to match the...giant-ness...i have an English degree...

Look...*I* know Sam and Dean are taking this seriously and aren't bad guys, it's obvious their old babysitter and her husband know that, too, but even if a poltergeist carved "murder (child)" onto my stomach, if i were a teenage girl, I'd be really uncomfortable about having to pull up my shirt to show that to the 26 and 30 year old strange men in my house.

I know this isn't a McDonald's but remember when McDonald's had those salads you shook??? What a weird time...

That kid just hit Sam with a blow dart and knock him out??

This kid has NO IDEA what he's gotten himself into. Also, could this have been a weird loophole to the whole Lucifer Wearing Sam to the Prom problem? If it's not really Sam in there/if it's Sam but not his body? Just something to consider

Sam. These are a lot of judgements...they might be accurate, but fuck you anyway

Why does this kid's dad loo like Great Value Tom Wambsgans?

Is this going to end up being one of those "you better appreciate the brother you have" episodes??

Kiddo...you gotta be way better at being Sam. I wish we could see Jared say these lines, though...

WHY DO THESE KIDS WANT TO KILL DEAN???? Omg...these kids are idiots playing around with LITERAL DEMONS

It was purely a breather episode, which is oddly nice to get with the fate of humanity on the line. Yes we got some small info drops, like apparently, you don't have to be Sam's consciousness to consent to being Lucifer's vessel. You just need to be in Sam's body. Seems worrisome.

"Been On My Mind...": Does it count if it's Sam's body but not his mind??

"The Poison Sky"

Plot Description: With planet Earth choking under the poison sky, the doctor mus stop the Sontarans' threat to the planet

I would have HATED to wait a week to see them get Wilf out of the car.

Evil Martha doing evil things.

[Insert "I've Had Enough of This Guy" meme here re: Rattigan]

I don't like that so much of Martha's time was taken up with jealousy over Rose, and now in order to...I dunno, make it up to her? She's hopping in on a WHOLE bunch of Donna's adventures. And I know part of that is David getting ready to leave, too, but still...5 out of 13 episodes Donna gets without someone who is, was, or will become important to the Doctor tagging along. 4 if you count the fact that Peter Capaldi's appearance in The Fires of Pompeii gets added into the canon of the Twelfth Doctor.

Literally every fucking time this fucker opens his mouth, I feel like he's an Musk stand-in but from like 2 years after twitter launched. His tantrum over how clever his is after everyone from his institute leaves, everyone he chose to continue the human race after the Sontarans killed everyone else. He had a MATING PLAN AND THOUGHT THAT WAS NORMAL.

Moms fucking HATE the Doctor lol

I love how much the Doctor believes in Donna <3

YES YES YES, GIRL. Whack the Sontaran with a fucking hammer

NOT THE "ARE YOU MY MUMMY?" REFERENCE

This...probably shouldn't work exactly the way it is. I'm no scientist, but I feel like setting fire to even just one toxin overtaking the whole Earth's atmosphere would have a much larger effect

The Doctor saves the whole day, avoids dying, and Donna hits him upon seeing him again. Love them

I'm gonna cry SO MUCH at the 60th anniversary special, won't I? I just love Wilf a lot.

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

[wambsgender]

11 + 12!!

11. greg invites you on a date to california pizza kitchen. however, you know that tom wambsgans will also be there in a really bad disguise. greg will never see him, but he will stare you down the whole time. do you still go?

absolutely. not missing the chance to flirt with a wet sock and watch a bra unbutton itself apoplectic.

12. kendall asks you to compose a banger tweet for him. what do you write?

he retweets this, then just tweets a picture of logans apartment, and immediately gets his account permanently suspended

#THX FINN! <3 #📥 #⚜️

[pastelwell]

3, 5, 9, 11, and 12 for the succession ask meme thing! sorry i couldn't pick just one or two, the questions are so fucking funny

Omg this was so fun.

3. shiv pulls you aside and asks if you think there’s “anything weird” going on between her husband and greg hirsch. what do you say?

Listen, I am no snitch! I would say absolutely not, babe, but I’ll tell you what, if you want to make Tom jealous I’m right here and very much open to being flirted with and/or furiously made out with.

5. willa invites you to a boozy saturday brunch. jess invites you to after work drinks. either way, you know you will be getting some crazy waystar tea, but you can only accept one invitation. which do you choose?

WILLA WILLA WILLA! Omg we would go for mimosas, we could invite Greg, we could all get disastrously drunk, maybe we can get Connor to come along and I can talk him into financing my novel!

9. you are stuck on a twelve hour flight to russia to avoid potential us extradition. you desperately need to sit and complain with someone about the annoying ass roy family. do you sit with karolina or gerri?

This is tough because I do love Karolina, but it has to be Gerri. 12 hrs is a long time, I could def befriend her in that time, and I want to get her talking about Roman. I need to put her back on the Roman path.

11. greg invites you on a date to california pizza kitchen. however, you know that tom wambsgans will also be there in a really bad disguise. greg will never see him, but he will stare you down the whole time. do you still go?

THIS HONESTLY SOUNDS LIKE A DREAM, ABSOLUTELY I GO, and I spend the entire time trying to bring the conversation around to Tom so I can help Greg realise that they are in love. Plus will also employ similar tactics to no.3 and tell him he needs to furiously make out with me in order to make Tom jealous, like that will be the essential catalyst to their getting together.

12. kendall asks you to compose a banger tweet for him. what do you write?

What’s a fuckin meow-meow? Am I a cat to you people or something? Thank you for your support #kendallroyforcats

#ask #anon #answered #ask meme #lol all I want in life is mimosas with Willa and a date with Greg where Tom spies on us

[greggery]

MR. HIRSCH

aka. Greg's dad

#Lee Pace fancast #mr. hirsch #Greg hirsch #cousin greg #succession #hbo succession #he flirts with tom wambsgans #G.S.H #character sheet is for a #tomgreg #project #wink

[technicolourtelevision]

Kendall Seducing/Flirting with Tom [3x03] for Anon.

#here you goooo!!!!!! #the way he gets SO CLOSE to tom lmao #4th gif is also so funny looking at tom like. he looks like the most flirted-with man who has ever been flirted with #why does he always have to have that lingering GAZE like in that last gif #oh ken #kendall roy #tom wambsgans #what is the ship name for this lmao #tendall #lmao #tomdall #tom x ken #tom x kendall #kentom #no idea #succession #request #gif #my gif #season 3 #3x03 #the disruption #matthew macfadyen

[turtleneck-wambsgans]

greg actually strategises using the sims version of the family (and waystar adjunct) he’s made. he only got the “go to work” expansion pack midway through season 2.

#he’s like ‘huh that’s weird #sims tom isn’t trying to flirt with me #must’ve set his character traits wrong’ #OR #he runs out of space in the normal waystar house he’s set up #so his sim and tom’s sim end up alone in a different house #and they just start becoming romantically involved and flirting #and he just thinks ‘oh yeah this is pretty accurate’ #succession #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch #tomgreg #tnwg

[wambsgraham-archive]

Personally, I just cannot imagine Greg actually having feelings for Tom Wambsgans in canon rn.

Friendship feelings? Yeah! Some attraction? Could be possible. But an actual noteworthy crush of any kind? Hard no. Dude does not behave like someone who’s got butterflies for his weirdo boss.

HOWEVER, Greg is also lonely, easily flattered, and a huge opportunist, and we already know he tends to roll with most of the insane shit that gets thrown his way. So like, while he may not want to seek out a relationship with Tom, if Tom hits on him earnestly, I do think there’s a good chance of Greg saying “fuck it, I can work with this” and running with it.

Hell, he already kinda did as much with “are you trying to seduce me” and the hair tuck back in ep 6 lmao. He clearly wasn’t bothered by the suggestion of being flirted with, and was disappointed when Tom made things about work/cruises again. I know their relationship has changed a lot since then, but Tom is still romantically insane at Greg quite often, and I think the watch incident + the deal with the devil have taught s3 Greg not to look a gift Tom in the mouth.

So in other words, Greg not might be into Tom, but I think he could get behind Tom being into him.

#like back in s1e6 I think Greg liked the idea of being flirted with #because it was the most pleasant answer to ‘why the fuck is Tom like this to me?’ #and now Tom’s version of ‘like this’ is very different #but the same answer would still apply as a little Nero and Sporus explanation #and there are certainly reasons to want to be the empress of Rome #so like I don't believe in requited tomgreg or unrequited tomgreg #I think Greg is requite-neutral #tomgreg #succession #cousin greg my beloved

[youreagoodguywambsgans]

has someone written a tomgreg fight club au yet? surely there must be one out there, right?

tom spends an entire episode with a black eye that is, let's be honest, never properly explained, he is the card-carrying poster child for those masculine Intricate Rituals

like i'm imagining tom and greg post clubbing, walking home when they could've driven, shoulders bumping from time to time, sweat cooling, tom's smile too big again, the streetlights glinting off his teeth as he rounds on greg a few blocks away,

"would you hit me? if i asked you to? if i told you to?"

which greg should have seen coming, right? tom's Like This, they got too close in the club, too much like something that could be described as intimate, tom with his hand on greg's shoulder, leaning in offer commentary on the club's other patrons, that one heart-stopping moment where he'd felt tom's lips honest-to-god touch his ear, so now naturally the repressed compensatory pendulum of tom wambsgans' mood has to hurtle back in the opposite direction which is also, somehow, always greg's direction

greg hems and haws, "dude, we've, like, talked about this", or maybe he does finally snap and "just this once, though, and you can't, i mean, you're not gonna tell people about this, right?" but when has tom ever told anyone about anything that's ever happened between them?

or tom inviting greg out, "i want you to come somewhere with me, but i can't...talk about it" like greg's supposed to know what that means? but when they get there, some dingy little basement in park slope of all places, and greg is simultaneously horrified and repulsed and sort of fascinated? and attracted, but like a magnet experiences attraction, which sums up so much of his life these days, and then some five-foot-nothing blonde flirts with tom like they know each other and suddenly he feels like destroying something beautiful

like i want? greg leaning back in his desk chair, fixing his tie while he tongues the empty spot in his gums where a tooth used to be and i want him and tom knuckle to cheekbone while they tell each other it's fine, there's balance here, atn and open marriages and more money than anyone should have because they know how to take a hit. logan can talk a blue streak about killers, but they know blunt impact better than a bat, they have the mortifying truth of being known like a broken bone--what could be truer than the taste of your own blood off another man's teeth??

and maybe it's an adrenaline high, maybe it's smug and stupid, maybe they're thrilled and buzzing and alive, maybe it's tom's hand cupped at the nape of greg's neck, undeniable, always; maybe when they kiss it's violence, mostly teeth

maybe, the act of remembering they're physical, human people can't matter more, can't come into play, money has to to matter more, unless it's dire, unless the situation triggers fight-or-flight. it's about the company, about growth, about what's best for me but if you'd hit me, maybe we can ignore the fact that what we want the most will never help us in the end

#succession #greg hirsch #tom wambsgans #tomgreg #succession fi

[your-ace-cousin-clover]

💘 Obvi tomgreg

okay, another anon send me this ask for Tomgreg. So this is a coupled response!

where they first met and how: Logan's 80th party!

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved: oh man, like ehhh, till Tom's marriage to Shiv, I'd say?

who fell for who first ( if applicable ): Greg, def. But Tom fell hard.

where their first date was and what it was like: Ortolan eating ? Very, very awkward and they woke up hungover.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? ): ohhh, well, awkward ass Nero Sporus monologue.

who proposes first: Need I say? Tom.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away: Oh, a very badly hidden relationship. Everyone thinks they already were having an affair before they even started dating.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? ): Oof, at a California Pizza Kitchen over cajun chicken linguini just how Greg likes it.

if they adopt any pets together: Oh yes they do! A black cat! And there's always Mondale!

where their first kiss was and what it was like: Two pale coconuts colliding gently.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? ): Matching suits and outfits!!

how into pda they are: Very mild. Just holding hands and intimate rituals so as to not send Logan into cardiac arrest.

who holds the umbrella when it rains: Greg! He's the taller person.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable ): ATN Headquarters.

who’s more protective: Tom. He'll literally come after you if a steel chair if you look at Greg wrong.

if they argue about anything: Oh yeah, random argument about ethics, betraying and not having a rich palette.

who steals whose clothes and how often: Greg steals Tom's puffy coats, but none of them fit.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? ): Tom tucked under Greg's chin facing each other.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is: Committing federal crimes.

how long they stay mad at each other: Ehh, an hour or so? They can't stay away from their evil gay plotting.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are: Tom - Latte. Greg - A hot chocolate.

if they ever have any children together: Yes! At most, two kids!

if they have any special pet names for each other: Sporus, Nero, Fucklehead, Shut Up, etc etc.

if they ever split up and / or get back together: Oh they're a mess.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? ): It's pretty homely and comfy. It's a good place to rewind.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like: Actually very nice. Tom's parents loved Greg and Tom's Dad basically adopted Greg. But Ewan on the other hand, basically threatened Tom.

what their names are in each other’s phones: Gregory 💞. / Tom Wambsgans.

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? ): Aww, they love committing crimes as their intricate rituals.

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first: Tom on both accounts.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon: They switch.

who hogs the bathroom: Greg. He's playing on his Switch.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside: Tom. Greg hates bugs.

#Replies written in purple cause it's my fav colour #tomgreg #succession #hope this makes sense #clover speaks #anon asks #ask game

[wormoffthestring]

I want tom wambsgans to go to a rich club and get legit drunk at the bar because hes sad and lonely, and have a young little twink flirt with him and dance with him and tom is finally having a good time just once. is that a lot to ask for

#tom wambsgans #succession hbo #he just needs his gay awakening #talkies