#michaelbitchjones

They’d been on many dates. Michael had marked every single one on his calendar, that’s hung above his desk. It’s become a regular, fortnightly thing and Michael’s not even sure if they count as dates any more, rather than something to look forward to. This doesn’t mean that he values them any less, nor does it mean that his affection for Jack has lessened.

He’s sat in her chair, in her office, with the door closed. He’s not doing anything inappropriate, he just quietly cleaning his beloved weapons, feet kicked up onto her table, a napkin placed underneath his dirty shoes. It’s a small, kind act that he’s done without thinking, only really considering saving her the hassle of yelling at him about how disgusting his shoes are.

What he doesn’t expect, when she comes in to see him humming along to a song that’s playing through his earphones, is for her to press her lips to his, hand resting on his shoulder. She’s so delicate, it takes Michael a moment to register what’s happening. He tries to match her natural elegance, but he falls short. His hands are gently placed on her hips, tugging her closer as his lips move in time with hers, allowing her to completely control the kiss, a symbol of how Michael feels she completely controls him, whether she’s aware of it or not.

                the endowment of control is something the redhead craves and willingly takes from the younger male, crimson lips easily moulding against his own as their embrace increases in complexity. Her calloused fingertips drifted from his shoulder to tangle within auburn locks almost too harshly, interested to see what reaction it would spur out of Michael as they continued.  Perhaps this ... interaction between the pair of them was a little unexpected, but the sight of the man sitting all too peacefully at her desk like a good boy, placing a napkin under his feet just to please her allowed harboured feelings of pure affection conspire. 

“You should take your shirt off more often.  We could get a lot of free stuff.”

/offers up my dumb michael if that'll help you/

❝ michael, please. you know i’m right here!     Just listen to me, okay? For like, five or six seconds. 

P!ATD SENTENCE STARTERS

"Yours is just like Beethoven. Puts me to fucking sleep.”

[Today has not been too kind on the bearded fellow, traffic having made him rather late for work. With a huff he paced through the  hallways towards the office all before practically crashing into someone. Eyes widening he stopped and looked to see who it was]