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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Michael rushed home, his heart thundering in his chest, a raw mix of panic and dread clawing at his throat. Every step felt like a race against time, each footfall growing heavier as the weight of what might be waiting for him pressed down, relentless. The ground beneath him seemed to shift with every hurried stride, pulling him forward into an unknown terror he couldn't quite grasp.
As he burst through the door, his shoes flew off, landing with a sharp clack that echoed in the eerie silence of the hallway. He didn't pause to take a breath, his bag slamming to the kitchen counter in a jarring thud, but even that noise seemed to pale against the thunderous beat of his heart.
His pulse was erratic, his thoughts scattered-What happened? Where is she? Is she okay?
His hands trembled as he fumbled with the steps, shooting up them two at a time, as though trying to outrun the storm brewing inside him. The air around him felt thick, suffocating. Each step was an echo of the fear that twisted tighter in his gut, and it felt like time itself was closing in, compressing every second into an eternity. He didn't care about the creaking of the stairs beneath him, only about reaching the top, reaching her-whatever was wrong, whatever he had missed.
When he reached the landing, he froze for a split second, straining to listen. It was the faint sound of running water that struck him, a quiet hum from the bathroom that only amplified the tension already winding tight in his chest. His breath hitched, as if his body knew something his mind hadn't quite pieced together yet. The rhythmic drip of water, the soft murmur of the faucet-it felt wrong.
His body moved instinctively, each step towards the bathroom slow but heavy with mounting anxiety. His fingers grazed the edge of the door, a light touch that betrayed the shakiness of his hands. A moment passed in silence, stretching between him and whatever awaited on the other side. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, only feel the weight of his own racing heart.
What if she's hurt? What if something happened to her?
His mind swirled with worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. His knuckles brushed the door again, this time with less hesitation, but his touch was still unsteady, as if he feared what he would find-or what he wouldn't.
He couldn't stop himself from wondering: What if she needed him and he wasn'tthere? What if he was too late? What if he walked through that door and found something that would shatter him?
"Yn?" His voice cracked as he called her name, the words bursting out in a desperate rush. "I came as fast as I could, baby. You okay?" He tried to steady himself, to sound more sure, but his voice trembled, raw with emotion-too soft, too tight, too full of fear. The kind of fear that made his stomach churn and his legs feel weak.
