Control You - ManjiroXReader (Bonten)

Chapter 5: eyes don't lie...

The sudden, jarring thud resonates through the silent classroom, snapping me out of a half-slumber. Mikey, wearing a sly grin, greets me, "Wake up, sleepy head! Falling asleep won't pave the way to becoming a star detective." His voice echoes in the empty room, amplifying the intensity of the awakening.

I stretch and yawn, pushing back the haze of drowsiness. Irritated, I mumble, "Mikey, there's no need to be so rough. What are you even doing here? You don't attend this school."

He responds with an eye roll and a mischievous edge, "I was waiting to take you home. And, by the way, I captured some amusing photos of you drooling over your desk." He holds up his phone, revealing snapshots of my less-than-graceful naptime escapade.

I lunge for the phone, attempting to seize control of the situation. "Delete those right now! Also, I have a date tonight!"

Mikey chuckles, successfully hiding the phone behind his back. "Why delete gold like this? Maybe I should send these masterpieces to the guy trying to steal you away."

Frustration courses through me as my attempts to retrieve the phone prove futile. As my punches fail, I grumble, "You're insufferable. Also did I mention I have a date tonight?"

His laughter fills the room as he expertly dodges my blows. "Stop that! Is Sleepyhead getting mad?"

Ignoring his taunts, I focus on gathering my scattered belongings. "I'm done with you," I declare, determined not to let Mikey's antics make me late for my date.

Undeterred, Mikey closes the distance and wraps me in an unexpected hug. "Come on, don't be like that. I was just messing with you." The atmosphere shifts abruptly, and in the midst of my annoyance, a faint moan escapes my lips as he holds me tightly. "Mikey!" I gasp, attempting to extricate myself from the unexpected turn of events, but laughter interlaces with the tension in the air.

His laughter reverberates in the dimly lit room, a sinister melody that accompanies the tightening of his grip, preventing any chance of escape. "It sounds like you enjoyed that a little too much," he remarks, his voice a low, dark murmur, fingers tracing an alluring path down my back. Nervousness courses through me, and the heat in my cheeks intensifies. "What... what are you doing?" I stammer, the boundary between us shifting into uncharted, unsettling territory.

His hand asserts dominance on my waist as he gracefully takes a seat, effortlessly pulling me onto his lap. My legs part instinctively, the fabric of my skirt lifting in an almost taunting dance. A wicked grin plays on his lips, and he places a possessive hand on the back of my head. "What happened, Y/N? Didn't you have a date with that loser Hanma?" His lips draw dangerously close, a whisper that barely registers, "Do you want me to stop?"

My breath quickens, and an unusual calm washes over me. In the intimate solitude of the room, with no prying eyes, the atmosphere becomes irresistibly charged. I've never thought of Mikey in this light.

"Mikey, I..." Our lips hover, teasingly close, and the heady scent of leather and vanilla envelops us. His warmth against my body sends a shiver down my spine as his fingertips intricately weave into my thighs, igniting a searing heat. "We can always stop if that's what you want," he reassures, his words a tantalizing promise.

Leaning in, he brushes his lips against mine, a prelude to a kiss that unfolds with a sweet intensity. It quickly deepens, revealing a hunger that seems to have slumbered for years, now stirred awake. Tonight, it becomes evident that my date with Hanma will be postponed, if not altogether canceled.

I wake up in a panic, eyes snapping open as I'm drenched in sweat. My breath is erratic, and I realize it was just a dream – a vivid dream. The morning sun casts its light on the room, dispelling the illusion, but the reality is no less disorienting. I'm still at Mikey's, and memories of our first kiss flood my mind, a relic from a time long buried.

Surveying the room, it's evident I passed out in my dress. With a sigh, I gather myself and head to the bathroom, seeking refuge in a quick morning shower. As I dry off, the realization hits – no clean underwear. Reluctance sets in; I won't resort to wearing a stranger's undergarments. Digging through the closet, I unearth drawers containing what appear to be Manjiro's – sweatpants and boxy t-shirts. I opt for a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, the lingering scent of leather and woody undertones confirming their masculine origin.

Prepared mentally, I venture out of the room. No sign of Sanzu or the brothers in the hallway prompts me to continue downstairs. The apartment is eerily quiet, the transformation from night to day amplifying the serene beauty of the glass house. Beyond the windows, the verdant surroundings evoke an enchanted forest. Navigating toward what resembles the kitchen, I find Manjiro sipping coffee by the island.

"Did you have fun last night?" he questions, raising an eyebrow, his gaze penetrating as the morning light exposes the complexities hidden in the shadows of the previous night.

"It's way too early for this. Could I have some coffee, please?" I mutter, irritation evident in my tone. Mikey, seemingly oblivious to the stormy exit from the room, complies. He fetches a cup of coffee, placing it on the table in front of me, his gaze fixed on mine as he takes a sip.

"I must have been dreaming because I swear I heard you moaning my name last night," he remarks casually. Embarrassment washes over me, my cheeks flushing at the unexpected revelation. It's 8 am, and I'm already uncomfortably flustered.

"In your dreams," I retort, feigning cluelessness.

"Maybe..." He inches closer, whispering in my ear, "You sounded like you could have used some help." The mug slips from my hand, crashing to the floor as my cheeks blaze. "You're a creep," I manage to say, though our proximity intensifies. Backed against the wall, his leg between mine, he pins me with a predatory gaze. Warmth envelops me as he breathes on my neck, his hands holding my wrists.

"Perhaps... I wonder what it was that you were dreaming," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. We engage in a verbal dance, teetering on the brink of a kiss – eyes locked, tension palpable. The air crackles with desire, a dangerous game unfolding. If you could fuck with your eyes this was the way. The kind of eye contact that makes you weak... he liked to play games.

"Fuck you," I stutter, attempting to regain control.

"Fuck me," he replies swiftly. Just when it seems a kiss is inevitable, he releases me, leaving me flustered on the floor. "The maid will cook breakfast for you. Go dress up. Sanzu is taking you shopping so you don't have to keep wearing my clothes," he declares, striding away. I'm left speechless, grappling with newfound emotions. Did I want his kiss? I sit in silence, contemplating for minutes before storming out.

"Manjiro! What the fuck was that? What was that for?" I confront him, frustration and flustered confusion evident. Dripping wet, I stand before him as he appraises me with a lingering gaze, leaving questions unanswered in the charged atmosphere.

"What's wrong, Doll? Were you expecting a kiss?" His words hang in the air, and I meet his gaze with disbelief, opting for silence. He leans forward, resting his head on the palm of his hand. "Nah, you won't have it that easy. You want to get fucked? Beg for it. Until then, you can get as flustered as you want." The sadistic edge in his tone sends shivers down my spine. "Is this your thing now? For women to beg you?" I challenge, my tone defiant.

He stands up, closing the distance. "It's not what I want from women; it's what I want from you," he states dryly, cutting straight to the point. Determined to unravel the mystery, I press further. "What about the room with all the women's clothes?"

"I'm surprised you couldn't tell. My sister's," he confesses with a heavy weight in his voice. "When Emma died, I couldn't bring myself to throw away her stuff, so I brought it here when I moved out of my old place. But no one has ever stayed in that room other than you." He sits back down, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Mikey..." I recall that painful day when Emma died, the event that shattered him, altering everything for both of us.

"It's okay. I know it was painful for you too. She was your best friend." His weak smile holds a shared sorrow. "Just go get ready so we can get you your own clothes, buy anything you want. There's no limit here."

I take a moment to collect myself before returning to the kitchen. Pouring a fresh cup of coffee, I have toast for breakfast. Heading upstairs, I settle for a hoodie while keeping the sweatpants on. As I contemplate my choices, a knock on the door interrupts the uneasy calm.