Welcome to Michael Jackson Imagines Vol. 3!
This is a book full of erotica and different AUs of Michael Jackson.
I hope you brought your holy beverage or food, you're probably gonna need A LOT.
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Months passed, and our secret meetings grew more frequent and daring. We were driven by a powerful desire that overshadowed any lingering guilt we might have felt. But the secrecy couldn't last forever. One evening, as we were entangled in each other's arms at Michael's house, lost in our private world, the sudden sound of the bedroom door creaking open jolted us out of our reverie.
"Fuck, Yn. I'm gonna—" Michael began, but his words were abruptly cut off by a voice filled with shock and anger from the doorway.
"What the hell is going on?!" Lisa's voice cut through the room like a knife, her expression a storm of disbelief and fury.
Michael and I quickly scrambled frantically to cover ourselves, our hearts pounding with a heady mix of panic and fear.
"Lisa! You're home early," Michael stammered, his voice betraying his desperation to maintain some semblance of calm.
"Yeah, I came here to see my husband, not to walk in on him with someone else!" Lisa's voice wavered, each word a mixture of shock and raw anger.
"Lisa, please, just let me explain!" Michael's voice was urgent, but Lisa's eyes were filled with a piercing, painful intensity.
"There's nothing to explain!" Her gaze shifted to me, and I felt her hurt morph into a cold, furious glare. "How long has this been going on?"
"Um, we, uh, ran into each other a few months ago," I stammered, feeling incredibly small and exposed under her intense scrutiny.
"Oh, so now you're picking up women off the street?" Lisa's voice was steady but carried an underlying edge of pain. "Did he pay you for this?"
"Lisa, please, Yn isn't—" Michael began, trying to defend me, but Lisa's expression shifted from realization to deeper betrayal.
"Yn? Wait a minute. She's the one you invited to our wedding and insisted nothing happened between you two? You cheated on me with your ex?!"
"Yes, but can we just—" Michael started, but his dismissive tone only deepened Lisa's despair and frustration.
"No! I can't even look at you right now!" Lisa's voice cracked, each syllable quivering with raw anguish. Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, locked onto us for a fleeting moment before she abruptly turned away. Her shoulders trembled with suppressed sobs, her entire frame vibrating with a profound, silent pain. "I need to go. I just—I need to go."
With a final, heart-wrenching glance, she stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut with a resounding finality, the sound reverberating through the oppressive silence that followed. The weight of our actions hung heavy in the air, an almost tangible shroud of guilt and regret. The room seemed to contract around us, making every breath feel labored and every movement slow, as if we were encased in a suffocating haze of our own making.
