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gl0wupdiaries · 4 years ago

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Itty Bitty Titty Committee

Thick pads, check.

Wires, check.

Thick straps, check.

This is a glimpse of the inner workings of my brain as I do my bra shopping. Nude, black, grey, polka dots, slim, silicone, Wonderbra—name it, I most probably had it.

How did I get here? Let’s backtrack a little bit.

It’s 2008, I was nine years old; clueless as to what the world has in store for me before entering puberty. It was a weekend and my mother had just gotten home from a trip to the mall. As she entered the house, I immediately lined myself up next to the glistening shopping bags that she brought with her, waiting (and hoping) that she’d pull out something for me. She usually brings home story books or drawing materials for me, but this time, I didn’t see the red plastic bag that usually contained those. As I was ready to sulk and mope around, she pointed towards a small white plastic bag. I immediately grabbed it, excited and happy that she remembered me after all.

I sat next to her with the rustling sounds of the plastic bag as I animatedly rummaged through it. As I pulled out what was inside, I was confused and disappointed. It was a box. “So-En… What’s this?” I asked. As I opened the box, I found myself bewildered from what I was holding. Was it a top? No, it’s too short. Maybe it’s a short cami? Who knows. “It’s a baby bra, anak.” My mother replied as my questions piled up further. Why do I need one? Aren’t bras for adults? Who cares if I don’t wear one?

And there it was, the rite of passage of every typical Filipina: The So-En phase.

As I tried it on, I it dawned on me that I wasn’t ready to grow up just yet. “I look ridiculous in it!” I complained, slouching as I looked at myself in the mirror. “You look fine!” my mother replied, adjusting the bra. I can still vividly remember the colors of the bras; they all had the same cartoon bear print on the upper left side. I hated them, and I hated my breasts; I still wanted to be a kid. In the next couple of years, I would spend the last few levels of elementary school and my early years in high school slouching, for the fact that I didn’t like my breasts.

Until one day, a senior of mine called me a member of the “itty bitty titty committee”.

I shrugged it off at first, but as I looked myself in the mirror, I started to question why I hid my breasts in the first place. I felt a rush of insecurity. The next day, I started to notice that all the girls in my class had nice and decently full breasts; I realized that I was, yet again, the odd one out.

Being the youngest in my class, no one took me seriously, and I hated it. Boys would usually be nice to the pretty girls in my class, but would give me head noogies as if I were one of them. I didn’t like it because I wanted to be admired like the other girls in my class. The day I realized that I had small breasts was the day I realized that that was the reason why I wasn’t being admired and popular. No one took me seriously because I looked like a little boy, I thought. And so, I wanted to get to the bottom of things and start looking for ways to magically grow breasts. It’s amazing how I spent years of my life thinking I didn’t need breasts, and waking up one day after a lousy comment from a boy only to realize that they’re all I need.

From the exercises, the diet, and the massaging techniques, nothing worked as far as size was concerned. I decided that this desperate case needed a quick solution. One morning as I was preparing to go to school, I decided to take more than just a pair of socks from the drawer. The first pair was for my feet, and the second pair, as you might’ve guessed, went inside my bra. As I adjusted the padding and the socks, I knew I looked different, but I was happy because I finally found a solution to my problem. I went to class feeling confident as ever, and I couldn’t believe I wasted so much time hating on my breasts when they can boost so much confidence out of me.

Each morning, I would sneak two pairs of socks and go in the bathroom to do my sock routine, being extra careful not to let my mother find out. I wasn’t hiding because I was afraid that she might get mad; I was hiding because I didn’t want to ruin my pride after years of expressing how much I disliked my breasts. I went on like that throughout the whole duration of my third and fourth years in high school.

Come summertime before the start of my fourth year, I started to realize that I couldn’t go out of the house without doing the sock routine. I just felt less pretty without them; I wasn’t satisfied. And so, for my batch’s beach outing, I had to figure out a way to fix the itty bitty titty situation. As I checked the padded area of my speedos to see if I could change anything, I noticed two tiny holes on both sides; I assumed they were holes for extra paddings, in my case, the socks. I wasted no time and started to insert the socks into their respective pockets. It was the smartest that I’ve felt for the whole summer.

At the beach, I was feeling my best; ready to conquer all with my (what I thought were) big breasts. I don’t know what made me feel so much confidence, was it because I proved my senior wrong? Or was it because of the attention that I was getting? In all honesty, I wasn’t even getting that much attention at all, probably because the socks were thin; they only added a little dimension to my breasts, nothing too drastic, but they felt like D’s for me at the time. As I swam, I started to notice that my breasts (the fake ones) were feeling a little bit heavier than they did before I took a dip. What used to look like breasts became two weird lumps on my stomach, and I wasn’t having any of it.

Before anyone could notice, I immediately rushed to the washroom and took the socks out and threw them in the bin. Screw it, I thought, what’s one day of not having those socks on? I went back to the beach and made my way to the water. Not one minute had passed and I was back to the itty bitty titty committee. One of my friends teased me again. The one day I decide to let my breasts free is also the day I get made fun of. I just don’t get it.

The next day, I decided to reunite with So-En and sneak to the underwear section of the mall to buy myself a pushup bra—still without my mother’s knowledge.

I’ve never stopped wearing pushup bras since. My mother eventually found my push-up bras when I entered university, and honestly, I stopped caring.

It’s been one hell of a ride. Nowadays, I’m definitely less insecure about it, and I guess that’s better than draining myself out of frustration to change my body, but leaving small room for self-love.

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bigbogbetelgeuse · 5 years ago

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lace and blood

here! have a bit of a writing sample. betelgeuse/reader.

~1900 words of lace kink and bloodplay. reader has a cock. i’d leave a preview paragraph but no part of this is SFW. 18+ only.

You woke up to sharp teeth sliding down the band of your panties. You’ve taken to sleeping in thin, lacey drippings that are a sight to see snug over your hips and tight against the delicious curve of your cock. You never know when he’ll show up and it’s best to be prepared for hands as cold as death sliding underneath your warm blanket and palming your thighs. Barely awake, you hardly even registered his giggle of delight as he reached the edge of the lace and realized what a treat you have laid out for him beneath your covers. You may be used to him showing up at all hours of the day, but it doesn’t mean you’re as ready for action as he is when you’ve just woken up.

“Aw sugartits, you shouldn’t have. You really shouldn’t have,”

Your comfortable nest was ripped completely away from you so that he could take in the full effect of your panties. There was a matching bra to the set that you used sometimes as a pushup for your pecs, but it wasn’t comfortable enough to sleep in so you hadn’t bothered. Betelgeuse didn’t seem to mind though- he was too busy miming a swooning southern lady, hand to his moss-covered forehead and other palm resting flat over his unbeating heart.

“Such a sweet sight- sweeter than my grand pappy’s tea on a Sunday afternoon,” He enthused, raising the glass that appeared in his hands to his lips. Still not quite fully awake, you rolled over onto your back, hand seeking the edge of the blanket he’d stolen from you. Your legs fell open, splayed over the sheets, and Betelgeuse choked on his mouthful of sweet tea. You woke up slightly more when the droplets splattered across your body, as icy as frost on a grave.

“Beej, shut the fuck up,” Your voice was hoarse with sleep, but you could tell the second you spoke that he was imagining other things he could do to turn your throat into a raspy mess. Glancing to the side, you tried to grab a glimpse of your alarm clock to see what time it was, but your view was suddenly blocked by striped arms and a mossy five o’clock shadow.

“Make me,” He countered and lowered his head to your lips before you could say a single word.

The ghost tasted like shit but you’d grown used to his particular brand of rancid plant-matter and week-old dumpster bullshit. There was no point in asking him to clean up before he came over, and even if you did ask such a thing of him, you wouldn’t want him to do so anyway. You liked Betelgeuse the way he was, and that included the flecks of bug legs still stuck between his teeth from his midnight snack.

As he kissed you, shoving his tongue as far down your throat as he could get it, you let your hands wander to the edge of his bet against his threadbare shirt. His overcoat was probably somewhere on the bedroom floor, but you had to slip underneath the slime-covered, greasy jacket to reach his shirttails. There were all sorts of strange lumps in the pockets he’d magicked into the inner lining, shapes that were easy to identify and ones that were harder. You couldn’t focus too much on it, trying as hard as you were to get enough air as he enthusiastically swept through your mouth with his tongue. Betelgeuse kissed like a retriever who hadn’t seen its owner in years: all tongue, sloppy, and with an enthusiasm that could have shattered mountains. (Or at least your headboard.)

A whine of frustration echoed from your throat as you struggled with the edge of his shirt and the jacket, wanting your hands on his skin as soon as possible. His lips had started to finally warm up through contact with your own body heat and you were eager to get the process started on the rest of him. While you knew he couldn’t really help his body temperature, it wasn’t the most pleasant of things to feel like a block of ice was fucking you. BJ finally broke off the kiss to grin smugly down at you, the sound you’d made going straight to his already incredibly overinflated ego.

With the air of a satisfied cat, he rocked back onto his knees, floating in the air above you to avoid crushing you underneath him just yet. He was still close- with every rise and fall of your chest, your bare skin brushed against his shins. You felt yourself stiffen in the confines of your lacy panties, your cock finally getting the message the rest of your body had gotten ages ago.

Betelgeuse loomed above you like a tombstone towering over a grave and made a show of shucking his jacket. One sleeve slipped down over his shoulder and then the other, and you fought the urge to point out that the stripper effect was lost with the full dress shirt, tie, belt, and slacks he still had on. With a flick of his shoulders- and that did get your attention, how they bulged at the seams of his shirt with the motion, he dropped the jacket behind him. It settled across your legs, a heavier weight than you’d anticipated with everything he had stuffed into the pockets. You shifted, trying to kick it off of you- and then hissed in pain.

BJ’s expression changed slightly, going from cocky to confused, as he glanced behind him. You wiggled your hand down to shove the jacket away from you and a pocket knife clattered out of it and onto the ground, blade popped open and shining with a red, wet edge. A matching line streaked down your thigh, the blood pooling at the cut smeared into the dirty fabric of Betelgeuse’s jacket. You stared at it for a moment and then rolled your eyes- trust him not to remember to put his damn knives away. It wasn’t even worth reprimanding him about; you knew that even if you told him to, he’d never listen.

You looked back at his face, ready to brush it off and pull him down for another kiss, but there was a red glint in his eye that hadn’t been there even a moment before. With fangs poking out from between his lips, BJ took a long, deep inhale.

The two of you had discussed bloodplay before, but it was never something you’d seriously considered- you were pretty sure that any sort of cuts you got in the course of such a thing were pretty much guaranteed to get infected, given how often the ghost washed his hands. And while the things he promised you were absolutely sexy- “it drives me wild babes, it’ll be so good, I promise you’ll love it”- you’d never been curious enough to try.

It seemed fate had other plans for your night though.

“Be careful,” You warned him, but he was already moving, rolling over on his side to focus those red eyes on the blood rolling down your thigh. Grubby hands that had already left streaks of dirt over your thighs grabbed at your leg, forcing you to bend your knee enough to raise it towards his face. Once again he took a huge inhale, glowing eyes rolling back into his head a little. You wondered what it smelled like to him- it didn’t take much to get BJ in the mood, but you’d never seen him to… ravenous was the only word you could think to describe it. His tongue, discolored and far too long, slipped over his fangs to lap at the cut.

He was not gentle. It was the rough licking of a cat, insistent sandpaper pressed against your skin. Just the act of having his head so close to the place you really wanted him had you shifting, trying to press your cock closer to the ghost. Before you could really process what was happening, an extra arm had sprouted from Betelgeuse’s shoulder and darted across your hips, pinning you down in place with an iron strength that you couldn’t hope to break.

“This is my show,” He rasped, the words slightly warped in a mouth with too many teeth for them. “You just sit there and look delicious.”

His regular hands pressed themselves to the sides of your cut, forcing more blood to the surface of your thigh. You hissed in pain and those eyes flicked to your face, waiting for you to give the word for him to stop.

You didn’t.

Purring in satisfaction, he returned his head to your thigh, hair tickling against your skin as he bent down and resumed licking once again. The grip across your hips was resolute but you found that if you wiggled enough, you could brush your lace-covered cock against his shoulder. Betelgeuse was still disappointingly overdressed, but for once that was working in your favor- the friction of his dress shirt against the lace was searing hot. You were straining at the elastic of the panties and went to slide them down your hips, but with a flick of his fingers, you found yourself frozen in place. No more rutting against him, no more twitching your thigh underneath his rough ministrations, and certainly no shedding the panties that were keeping your poor cock bound.

The noise of frustration that ripped its way up your throat was positively feral and you felt him grin against your skin, the smugness returning in full force.

“Betelgeuse,” You whined aloud, deliberately using his full name to grab his attention. When his head snapped up at the syllables, there was a little trickle of your blood running from the corner of his mouth.

“I can taste how bad you want it,” He teased, tongue flicking out to smear the bloody mess even further across his cheek. You bucked helplessly in your psychic restraints, turned on beyond what you’d ever thought was possible at the sight of him enjoying you so thoroughly. His own arousal tented his pants; a wet stain grew at the tip of it, adding to the list of other stains already dotting the fabric.

Without warning, his mouth swooped down to close around your lace-covered cock. You yelped in surprise, the chill of the ghost’s tongue pressing against your white-hot skin a contrast you didn’t think you’d ever get used to. Betelgeuse tongued his way up your length, stopping where the head was trapped against your hip by the elastic of the panties. With a just a toss of his head, the side of one of his fangs dipped below the waistband and snapped it. You should have felt terror at those teeth so sharp around your most sensitive areas, but all you felt was an undeniable surge of arousal.

Your cock sprang free of its cage, pre already beading at the tip, and you couldn’t even find it in you to be mad at the ruined pair of underwear. You’d bought several more you couldn’t wait to show him another night.

BJ looked at the sight in front of him and chuckled, long and low, deep in his throat. That was the sound he made when he was planning something, a sound that meant nothing good for those around him. A sound that promised you a night you’d never forget.

Those frozen lips closed around the head of your cock, lapping up your precum just as he’d savored your blood, and you screamed for him.

#betelgeuse #beetlejuice #lace play #bloodplay

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pearlflystore-blog · 7 years ago

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hamilton-one-shots · 6 years ago

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14 & 15 kiss prompts for Jamilton, enemies to lovers?? maybe modern AU of some sort?

Edited by @dflwriteshamilton

(14: a hoarse whisper “kiss me” 15: then licks their lips and says “please”)

Another day, another meeting. Mr Washington was giving them some speech on how to improve their newspaper while Alexander impatiently tapped his pen on his empty notepad. It was all things Alexander knew already, something he shouldn’t have to sit through, but rules were rules. And he was on thin ice as it was. But it wasn’t completely his fault. Some of the fault went to the bushy haired southerner sitting next to him: Thomas Jefferson. For some reason, Washington thought it was a great idea to sit them together at every possible meeting.

“Would you stop that tapping,” Jefferson whispered harshly, referring to the never-ending tapping. “I’m trying to listen.”

Alexander tapped his pen harder against the table.

Thomas sighed and tried his best to ignore the sound. He knew Alexander just loved seeing him riled up like that. Unfortunately, the pen tapping was harder to deal with than the man tapping it and Thomas snatched it away, looking Alexander in the eyes as he snapped it in half.

“Washington,” Alexander demanded as he stood up. “Jefferson broke my pen!” A few people seemed surprised that he broke a pen so easily, but come on. Look at those arms. Not that Alexander spent time staring at Thomas’s arms. He was just height impaired, so they were right in his line of sight during arguments.

Jefferson rolled his eyes and stayed sitting. “Because you were oh-so-diligently taking notes, weren’t you?” Sure, Alexander was usually a hard worker, but he was just annoying most of the time.

Washington took a long, deep breath and rubbed his temples, letting them bicker for another minute before slamming his hand down on the table, effectively silencing both of them. “As soon as this meeting’s over, I want to see both of you in my office. For now, take your chairs and sit in separate corners in the room.”

“You can’t just treat us like children!” Alexander protested.

“Oh, I can. If you two are going to act like children, I’m going to treat you like children. Corners, now.”

Thomas’s face was flushed with embarrassment as his co-workers snickered, but his dark complexion and poker face kept that just about hidden. He stood up and rolled his chair to a corner, Hamilton reluctantly doing the same and going in the opposite direction.

“Facing the corner,” Washington instructed.

They both turned around and sat, facing the corner and messing with their phones throughout the rest of the meeting. When it was over, they made their way to Washington’s office, as asked.

They almost looked unified as they sat in Washington’s office, sharing fearful glances until their boss sat down.

“Don’t worry. You’re not in too much trouble. I really wish you wouldn’t bicker like that during meetings, though.” Washington thought highly of the two and was fond of them. Sure, he got annoyed, but it was more like a tired parent than an angry boss.

Alexander was hopeful as he heard that, sitting up a bit straighter. “So, we’re not in trouble?”

“I didn’t say that,” Washington corrected. “I have an assignment for you two. I’m making you work together and, if I don’t approve of the final project, I’ll suspend you two without pay for a week. However, if it’s good enough, I might consider letting you have a few extra days of paid vacation.”

Thomas and Alexander shared a glance. It wasn’t like they had a choice. This could either go really well or really poorly.

Thomas glanced at Washington, cautious. “What’s the assignment?..”

Washington grabbed a file from his desk, flipping through it and reading from it. “We’ve received a few stories from women about a congressman harassing them. They weren’t able to take this to the police because their stories weren’t taken seriously, but we can do something about it. And I’ve decided to put you two on the case. The man in question is holding a ball this Saturday night.” He shut the file and put it down, waiting for the dots to come together in their minds.

And, after maybe a minute, they did.

“No,” Alexander protested. “No! I’m not getting in a dress!”

Washington sighed. “Then what do you expect me to do? I chose you two for a reason, because this is the kind of thing where you’re forced to work together and use your own strengths at the same time.”

“Well, those aren’t the kind of strengths I want to show!” Alexander whined, getting up.

Thomas grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to his seat. “Hey, I don’t mind the fake dating.” He wasn’t that far out of Alexander’s league.

“But-”

“And,” Thomas continued, cutting Alexander off. “And there is a way to keep you from showing your goods.” Sure, Alexander had the goods, but if he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to, and so he didn’t have to.

“How?..”

And that was how Thomas ended up in a hotel room with Alexander, getting his legs waxed by his friend Maria.

“Just bite down on the towel, you big baby,” she teased as she put another wax strip on his calf. “Women do this all the time, you’re not dying.”

“Shut up,” Thomas grumbled.

Maria chuckled. “And, to think, we’re not even close to done.”

Thomas took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself again. “Okay..”

Maria grinned and ripped the wax strip off of his leg, entertained by her friend’s cries. After all, he only had to suffer one time. Women did it all the time.

Of course, Thomas knew that. As horrible as the suffering was, he didn’t want to complain. He knew it could be worse, he knew it could be repeated.

That being said, he made Maria swear not to tell when he started crying near the end of the waxing. His face just had sensitive skin, okay?!

“Alright, take a break before makeup,” Maria allowed, running a cold shower for him. “I’ll be out here for a bit.” She left the bathroom and let Thomas be, sitting with Alexander.

“What are you even doing in there?” Alexander asked.

“Waxing.”

“Wow… I bet he’s really regretting volunteering for me,” Alexander snorted. Thomas probably just wanted to show himself off, but turning himself into a woman was probably more than what he signed himself up for.

Maria shook her head. “Actually, no. I joked about it with him and he said it was worth it. He said he promised, anyways.”

Alexander felt genuinely surprised by that. Thomas was willingly getting waxed and dolled up without a complaint? “That’s weird.”

Maria just shrugged and waited for Thomas to be ready for the next step. Once he called her back in, she went over and did his hair and makeup.

“So,” Maria began as she worked on his hair, “you’re really okay with this? Like don’t you wish Alexander had done this instead? He is shorter, after all.”

“No, actually. I volunteered, I said I would. It wouldn’t really be right of me to change my mind now,” Thomas explained before throwing in a joke. “Besides, I think I could rock this look and complain less than him about it.”

Maria laughed at that. “Yeah, I think you could, too. I hope you know the torture’s not over, though.”

He sighed and looked over at the counter, where the next torture device awaited. At least that one wasn’t the worst of it… And at least he wasn’t wearing high heels.

Once Maria finished with Thomas’s hair, she had him stand and face the counter, then began putting the corset on him.

“You got this,” Maria assured as she began tightening the laces. “Don’t worry, it’s just going to be for a few hours.”

Thomas nodded and gritted his teeth, taking shallow breaths. It wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. Thankfully, it was a fairly quick process.

“There we go,” Maria said. “Now I can get you into the dress and get you to fill it out.”

Thomas nodded. “Alright.” He stood up straight, which was nearly impossible to not do, and followed Maria’s instructions as she got the pushup bra and dress on him. It was the easiest, but one of the oddest feeling parts of the entire ordeal.

Maria clipped the strapless pushup bra in place and helped Thomas fill it out a bit better using gel inserts, then had him step into the dress. She pulled it up and zipped it up, them helped him adjust it. “And we are done!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

Thomas took a slow breath, then looked at himself, blinking in surprise a few times as he caught his reflection. He raised a hand to his own face and ran it down his cheek. “Wow.. This is trippy.”

Maria grinned proudly. “Am I good? Or am I good?”

“You’re great!” Thomas exclaimed. “I look like a woman.”

She nodded. “Now you have to work on sounding like one and walking like one, all that good stuff.”

It was only a half hour lesson, a crash course in womanhood, before Maria had to leave. At that point, Thomas stayed in the bathroom for another minute before emerging, immediately catching Alexander’s eye.

As soon as Alexander got a good look, he felt his heart stop for at least a couple of seconds. Thomas looked good… And the dress only complimented his new figure. The off the shoulder straps really accentuated his thin waist and the ball gown skirt was just so… So him. Of course, the dress was Maria’s signature deep red as well as the lipstick, but Thomas really made it work, arguably better than Maria herself. Thomas really did make a beautiful woman… And it made Alexander stare a little too long.

“You don’t like it? I thought I looked hot,” Thomas commented as he watched Alexander gawk, taking it negatively. He looked down at himself as his smile wavered, not wanting to let Alexander see. “Well… You have to deal with me being your date at least for the night,” he shrugged, using all of what was left of his confidence. It wasn’t like it actually hurt… He just.. He was just upset that he’d spent all that time getting ready and he couldn’t even impress Alexander, that troll.

Alexander shook his head, knocking himself out of his trance, and gathered his thoughts for a minute. “I’m sorry…” he eventually responded. “I didn’t mean to stare, but… You actually look good. You’re a convincing and beautiful woman.”

Thomas’s expression softened, not knowing very well how to react. “Oh..” he simply muttered at first. “Um.. Thanks.. I guess.” Nobody could blame him for being so surprised. It was the first time Alexander had given him a genuine compliment.

“Yeah.. Maria did a good job with you.” Alexander pushed himself off of the bed and grabbed his own outfit, stepping into the bathroom and simply changing. It was simple compared to Thomas’s own preparation… If Alexander ever had a wife, he’d let her have all the time she needed in the bathroom. But, for now, he stepped back out, watching Thomas look down at his skirt, almost mesmerized by something. “Are you okay?” he asked, almost cautiously.

“This dress has pockets. Maria isn’t getting it back,” Thomas responded, dead serious.

Alexander couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well… get your bag, if you need it. Our ride should be here soon.”

Their ride, one of their friends, was in fact there soon.

Lafayette, their driver for the night, stepped out of his car and opened the door on Thomas’s side, bowing theatrically. “Madame.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha.” He got in the car, gathering his skirt and making sure it was all in the car with him before Lafayette shut the door and got back in the front seat, Alexander having gotten in on his own.

The ride was mainly quiet besides a bit of small talk, including a detailed anecdote on why Lafayette had that chauffeur’s outfit to begin with. Lafayette had no shame when it came to his sex life and that night was a good reminder of that.

When they reached their destination - a grand reception hall that left both Alexander and Thomas speechless at first sight - Lafayette dropped them off and waved, wishing them both luck before driving away.

Alexander held out his arm and Thomas took it, letting him lead them inside.

The inside of the hall was breathtaking, but both men were over that by then, focused on getting their job done. They avoided small talk as much as they could, pretending to see old friends across the crowd or claiming that their favorite song was coming on as they made their way around. Eventually, they came across their subject: Senator Henry Laurens.

“Are you ready?” Alexander asked, knowing that Thomas would be getting the worst of their time.

“I’m ready,” Thomas responded, adding just a bit more femininity to his aura. He remembered what kind of tiny details would help him catch the senator’s eye. A small, shy smile, averted eyes, and a half hearted grip on Alexander.

Alexander also played his part, moving his hand to rest on Thomas’s hip and quickly glancing to make sure it was okay with him. The taller man didn’t seem fazed, so Alexander went on with him, letting Thomas lead the way that time.

“Mr Senator, I’ve been dying to meet you!” Thomas- er, Martha, began, carefully fawning over the man already.

Alexander offered his hand for a handshake. “Hello, Mr Senator. I just couldn’t keep her away.” Alexander lightly chuckled. “Your campaigns are always on television at home. I will say, you are a smart man.”

Mr Laurens returned their smiles, shaking Alexander’s hand and looking Martha up and down. A bit too muscular in the arms, but he was sure the honey would be sweeter than what the hive was advertising. “It’s nice to meet you two as well. I’m glad some people watch those things,” he joked.

Martha let out a small laugh. “Quite the charmer.. Just like I said, right, dear?”

Alexander nodded. “Right. Sorry, Alexander Hamilton. This is my fiancee, Martha Jefferson.”

Laurens nodded and took Martha’s hand, kissing it quickly. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ms Jefferson.”

She gave him a charming smile and glanced in the direction of the band as the song changed. “Oh, I do love this song..”

Perfect. Laurens glanced at Alexander. “Would you mind if I gave the lady the honor of a dance?”

Alexander shook his head and stepped back. “No, go right ahead. She’s a bit difficult to keep up with sometimes,” he joked.

And, like that, Martha left with Henry Laurens, ignoring how disturbingly low his hands were on her waist. The pair began dancing together and exchanging smiles. All it took was a bit of small talk and a fake background including a distinct disinterest in Alexander for Martha to get what she wanted. At least, the proof that she wanted.

Laurens snuck his hand a bit further down her waist and leaned in a bit closer. “You seem awfully disinterested in that boyfriend of yours. Why don’t I give you a thrilling night to cheer you up?”

Martha gave him a practiced smile. “I’d love nothing more.”

Martha was lead through the crowd and through a nearly invisible hallway, a small shadow following in their tracks, and began the second half of her act.

“Oh.. I’m afraid that I misinterpreted your invitation, sir..”

Laurens clicked his tongue, mildly annoyed by that statement alone. “I never bring a woman here without getting what I came for, Ms Jefferson.”

She began tugging her arm away. “Surely, I can’t be the first woman who declined your offer.. Please let me go.”

“You’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last. I don’t care. It just makes things a bit more complicated.” He used noticeably more force as he pulled her towards a room at the end of the hall.

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows. That was all Thomas needed, so why wasn’t he pulling away? He surely had the strength for it. He followed them just a bit closer, his footsteps muted by the thin carpet.

“I have to go back to Alexander, sir. He must be wondering where I am,” Martha continued protesting.

“He’ll be fine, now stop fighting so much,” the senator grumbled, reaching the door.

However, the second he opened it, he found himself on the floor, knocked unconscious with a single punch from Alexander Hamilton.

Alexander shook his hand out, his knuckles hurting, but not enough for him to care. He looked up at Thomas. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay.” He smiled. “I was going to pull away when he had the door opened, but you beat me to the ass kicking part.”

Alexander smiled sheepishly. Yeah, that made sense. “I got worried… I..” Alexander paused for a second. “Let’s just go back to the hotel..”

“I’m right behind you,” Thomas agreed, following Alexander outside. They called Lafayette and he drove them back to the hotel, wishing them a good night as he left.

It was a quiet walk to the room and, the second Alexander shut the door, he couldn’t help himself. He grabbed Thomas’s wrist and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Alexander realized something that night. The only reason that he and Thomas got into so many fights was they were so opposite, but so equal. And Alexander loved it. He loved knowing that there was actually someone who could match him word for word, someone who could actually keep him on his toes in a conversation. And he actually liked Thomas. To see him almost get hurt like that..

“Kiss me,” Alexander hoarsely whispered out. After seeing that, the thought of losing Thomas drove him insane. He licked his lips and tugged his arm a bit more. “Please.”

Thomas was definitely surprised by how sudden that was. He and Alexander had always just argued. He had to admit, he didn’t hate Alexander, not deep down. That didn’t mean Thomas was ever expecting Alexander to come on to him like that. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to reject it now. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Alexander’s, putting everything he had into that kiss.

Alexander did the same, wrapping his arms around the back of Thomas’s neck and standing on his toes. He began moving back with Thomas, falling onto one of the beds with him and pulling away after a few seconds, a serious look on his face.

“Are you on the pill?”

Thomas rolled his eyes playfully and flipped them over so he was on top. “No, but I hope you are.” He leaned back down and kissed Alexander, the two spending the rest of the night celebrating their newfound success as well as their newfound relationship.

Thomas woke up the next morning to Alexander laying with his head on Thomas’s chest, working on his computer. He smiled and kissed his new boyfriend’s forehead, making Alexander look up.

“Good morning. So, think everyone in the office is going to freak out about this?”

Alexander shrugged. “I hear that everyone has been expecting us to hate fuck at least once, so probably not.”

Thomas nodded. “Well, if they were thinking “hot” instead of “hate” they’d be right, so we’ll see.”

“Yeah,” Alexander snickered. “For now, let’s work on getting some vacation days so we don’t have to hot fuck in the office.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

They spent the day working together for once and Washington was pleased to find an article that was all around well-written, no sign of a fight in any line. Of course he gave them a few days of paid vacation and hardly had to wonder what exactly changed between them.

Seeing the looks they exchanged as they came back, he knew his plan worked out perfectly.

#hamilton #hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #george washington #lafayette #jamilton

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