Mar 16
jeffburrmads Ily
seen from United States
seen from Peru
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Philippines
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Syria
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Spain
seen from Italy
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Poland
jeffburrmads Ily
my opinion on jeffmads with any other third is that they are a happily married couple who bully their third for fun.
not in a mean way (it’s MEAN). not in a cruel way (IT’S CRUEL). but in the way where they love him so fucking much they can’t help but weaponize it. he says one thing slightly off-kilter and they descend on him like vultures in matching bathrobes. he tries to express a boundary and they respond with a calendar invite and chamomile tea.
he tries to fight them. like a little guy. like a fool. they’ve already synced his sleep schedule to the moon cycles and deleted all his emotionally compromising drafts off Twitter. he thinks he has agency. he’s wearing one of their sweaters and drinking from a mug that says “our problem now.”
and like. I’m sorry. there are only two men this ever applies to. and both of them think they’re above it. one is all “I’m composed. I’m rational. I have a spine.” sir, they kissed you on the forehead and you SAT DOWN. you let them explain your own emotional repression to you like it was a podcast you asked for.
the other is a human landslide of manic declarations and wet paper emotions. he shows up ranting about betrayal and justice and they hand him a protein bar and tell him he’s brave. he calls it abuse. he’s never missed a Thursday cuddle. he said “I don’t need this” while letting them exfoliate his shoulders and call him “sweetheart” in stereo.
these men are not in a relationship. they are being domestically dominated by a legally married psy-op. jeffmads are not two people. they are a cohesive spiritual entity with matching silk robes and a mutual lust for fixing twinks through enforced intimacy.
the third always thinks he has a choice. he does not.
can you draw jeffmadsburr please 🥺🥺
Obviously 👅🙏
sneak peak into the FIC I'm writing
### *Lace & Letters*
#### Chapter 6: Coordination and Consequences
**Scene: The Thrupletm Group Chat**
*Titled [Apartment 306 Supremacy]* – Private
Participants: Jefferson, Burr, Madison
> Jefferson: he's going to kill me
> Jefferson: in a good way
> Madison: definition?
> Jefferson: lace. lace is BACK
> Burr: is he doing it to tease or is he THAT oblivious
> Jefferson: it’s Hamilton. he wears thirst traps by accident
> Madison: I don’t know if I respect him or fear him more
> Burr: both
> Jefferson: he walked past me this morning in that hoodie & the black lace again
> Jefferson: INNER. THIGH.
> Jefferson: he bent over to pick up his charger
> Madison: and?
> Jefferson: I physically whimpered
> Burr: weakness
> Jefferson: mouth said “mm” like a dessert commercial
> Madison: you’re banned
> Burr: report to horny court
> Jefferson: I *could* have kissed him
> Burr:
>> you could
>> or
>> you should
>>
>> because I *will*
> Jefferson: FIGHT ME
> Madison: /blocked
> Jefferson: I’m going to start knocking over mugs just to catch him bending again
> Burr: noted
> Madison: if he wears the pink lace again I’m scheduling a roommate "feelings talk"
> Burr: agreed
> Jefferson: 3v1
> Madison: 3 IN 1, potentially
> Burr: now who’s hungry
> Jefferson: kNEW it
—
**Meanwhile, in Hamilton’s room...**
He was lying on his stomach, pillow over his head, legs barefoot and tangled in blankets, trying to erase what could only be described as a *very inappropriate dream*.
To be clear, it was definitely wrong to dream about your three roommates.
Even more wrong when one (or two) of them might have been kneeling.
Alexander groaned into the mattress.
The lace shorts had been a mistake—but they made him feel *something* and *something* beat *nothing*. He’d gotten up to get water. That was it. No plan. No agenda.
Until Jefferson sauntered into the kitchen shirtless again and *looked directly at his thighs*.
Until Burr made a kind of low, curious noise.
Until Madison poked him directly on the hipbone—once—and said,
“You really do enjoy making this hard for us.”
He didn’t mean it. Probably. Hopefully??? Maybe??
Alexander’s brain short-circuited so violently he walked into a wall.
And now here he was. Rethinking his life. Wearing the lace. Again.
He checked his phone.
Nothing new from the roommates.
But from his best friends?
> Group Chat: Ride or Dies
>
> Laurens: HOW’S LACE 2.0
> Hamilton:
>
> Herc: updates 👀
> Hamilton: jefferson looked hard enough to set off fire alarms
> Laf: did he touch
> Hamilton: burr said “you could have asked for help” when my hands were full
> Laurens: oh he WANTS to help
> Herc: emotional support handsy
>
> Laf: did madison say anything
> Hamilton: “hard for us”
>
> Laurens: oh my —
> Herc: OH
> Laf: ARE THEY ALLOWED TO TALK LIKE THAT
> Hamilton: i have to move out. or die.
>
> Laurens: OR you could simply let them devour you
> Hercules: lace was the bait. they are the trap
>
> Hamilton:
> Hamilton: i think
> Hamilton: i want to be caught
>
> Laf: FINALLY
—
**Later That Night**
Alexander, paralyzed by indecision, flopped on the couch with his laptop and curled into the oversized hoodie. The lace shorts rode up *just enough*. The room was quiet, Edison bulb lighting soft and safe, and then—
One by one, his roommates filtered in.
Madison first, quiet as breath, sitting just close enough their elbows brushed.
Jefferson next, flopping down to his other side, leg pressed firmly against thigh.
Burr strolled in last. No pretense. He sat on the coffee table, leaning forward, forearms on knees, staring directly at him.
“You know,” Burr said, tone like velvet catching on something sharper, “if you wanted to show off, you didn’t need to pretend it’s laundry day.”
Alex gawked at him.
“I wasn’t—”
Jefferson cut in, voice low. “You make it very hard to behave, sweetheart.”
“Sometimes,” Madison murmured, brushing his thumb along Hamilton’s fingers, “I don’t want to.”
They were all looking at him now.
No teasing. No jokes.
Just quiet hunger and absolute patience.
Alexander’s voice was barely audible. “Then... don’t?”
And just like that, it changed.
Jefferson’s hand slid to his bare thigh. Burr’s smile turned dangerous. Madison’s head tilted, eyes dark.
Hamilton was already breathless.
> **Group Chat: Ride or Dies**
>
> Hamilton: update
> Laurens: YES
> Hamilton:
>
> they just looked at me like they wanted to eat me alive
>
> Herc: again—YES
> Laf: and you’re??
> Hamilton:
>
> sitting very
>
> VERY still
j..jeffmads or jeffmadsburr mayhaps?
— you don't know who this anon is 🌀🌀🌀 totally not the guy wgo loves jeffmadsburr and gave headcannons about it 🌀🌀🌀
wow whoever could this anonymous person be ill never know I’ve never seen you before ever in my life🤔🤔🤔🤔
Summary:
James doesn’t care what the treaty says,
I wanna rp Hamilton so just DM me