Michael Jackson Imagines Novels & Stories

Is this a dream? Michael on the other hand stared at his phone, she called him! He can't believe this, and she asked about his legs, Michael had a crazy wish for a brief second that he can go back to the time when his legs used to hurt so that he can complain to her and know what she will do. But he knows that was an impossible wish. After a long moment of his alone time with his thoughts, he turned to see that every one was still in the room and then he remembered he was in the middle of a meeting but the thing is, he was no longer in the mood for a meeting, "meeting adjourned."

For some reason I always wash myself two or three times when I take a shower. One of my many fantasies is to have Michael fuck me in the shower. My body shivered of the thought of his wet body rubbing against mine. The happy sounds they would make as they slapped against each other. My knees trembled, as I imagined how hard and forceful he had to be to get his dick to enter me. My clit got engorged and I had to rub one out.

Michael Jackson POV Michael's chest heaves with a wild, erratic rhythm as he strides through the massive obsidian arched entrance of the Moon Goddess Arena, his mind racing to comprehend why Jone hasn't formally canceled today's territorial assembly like he has every other strategic summit over the past two moons. He cannot determine if this compliance signifies a tactical opening or a final defeat, harboring a lethal dread that it merely means his presence no longer evokes any emotional reaction from his estranged mate.

Containers that will serve as shelf compartments, so everything is organized at the house. I thought we were organized already. Jackson was so right about women. They're complicated. "Michael wouldn't mind getting them," he said trying to avoid moving away from the one thing that's hiding his tented pants. "Right my- mmmh," his face twisted as he hummed to himself. "Love?" He said his eyes pleading. "Fuck, baby if you don't turn it off, I'm going to cum any second," he said his chest rising and falling rapidly. Tiny mewls escaped him every now and then.

“I want you to build it up. Imagine it’s me there with you, touching you. How does that feel?” “Yeah,” he moaned. I could hear him touching himself. Imagining his dick palmed in my hand as I sucked him harder only fueled my energy to climax more. “Like magic,” I whispered, my fingers moving in circles, coaxing waves of pleasure that crashed through me. “I can almost feel you, Michael, your hands on me, pulling me closer, making me lose control.”

However, as he walks from his imagination something is pulling him back as he tried to reach it. In just his second time for almost an hour of fighting in his mind, he managed to acquire it. The little green light is now in his imaginary hands smiling widely as he managed to catch through his efforts. With his imaginary body, he dances around proudly like a mad lad. (Hahaha! This little shit is bothering me for days thinking that I couldn't catch it but unfortunately, I have my own time in my hands now!) [M-Mike! Y-you just what have you done!?]

I know my imagination is stupid. Then she pulls away and tells me, “Honey, welcome home, hope you had a stress-free day today?” She will ask. But wait a sec, can someone explain why the lady I am imagining as my wife has my face and the man acting as my husband is... REIN JACKSON!!!!!??? WHAT THE HECK?? What kind of an imagination is that?

Michael stepped into the room cautiously, his gaze fixated on the walls covered in pictures and posters. Everywhere he looked, he saw Jaxon’s face. ‘Why does he have Jaxon’s face plastered all over the walls?’ he wondered, his brows knitting together. As he examined the images more closely, he realized they weren’t just ordinary pictures. There were candid shots of Jaxon—sleeping in his car, working in his office, swimming. Some were older, showing a younger version of him.

Mind back on your purpose here, Tritone. “Thank you,” she said, yanking her hand off him. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice still raspy. “Hurry up!” Michael bounced on a loose weathered plank, hitting the beam beneath with a thud, thud. Kind of like her heart was doing. No it wasn’t. That was just surprise. Embarrassment. She was imagining things. Then Logan slid a hand under her elbow, and her knees got a little jellyfish-like.

Just let me have a taste of that dick I’ve been dreaming about. I drank a couple of shots and danced with some random guy, but my eyes kept going back to them. Michael looked good tonight. Fitted shirt stretched across his chest, jeans hanging low. I kept imagining what his cock looked like. Thick. Veiny. Probably hard right now from Arabella grinding on him. After a while Michael stood up. “I’ll be right back, babe. Gotta take a quick piss and check on something upstairs.”