ᴋɪᴍᴇᴛꜱᴜ ɴᴏ ʏᴀɪʙᴀ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

ᴍɪʟɪᴛᴀʀʏ!ɢɪʏᴜᴜ!

NSFW// alcohol, drunk sex, smoking (cigarettes), hint of choking, lots of begging, modern au, military man giyuu 👀

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You never thought of bars as anything special. Nightclubs just gave you a headache with all the flashing lights and obnoxiously shitty music. Intoxicated men were even more of a hassle to shake off than sober men. Bars just weren't your scene. With that being said, here you were, downing shot after shot. Alone. This one wasn't so bad. It was closer to your house, smaller, and the people seemed to be the slightest bit kinder on this side of the city.

You adjusted the collar of your shirt, unbuttoning the top three buttons. You popped a cigarette between your lips, letting it hang loosely. The bouncing music and shuffling of dancing people muffled the sound of your lighter flicking to life. You inhaled deeply, feeling the burn of tranquil sting rush down your throat and dance around your lungs. You sighed, exhaling the smoke through your nose and then finally blowing through your mouth.

"You shouldn't smoke, you know?" An unfamiliar voice said, accompanied by the clinking of wine glasses and bottles.

You turned your head, taking another drag of your cigarette. The man sat with a drink in his hand and a book in the other. He didn't spare you a glance as you blew the wispy smoke into his face. His nose crinkled, eyes still on his book. The low orange hue of the bar lights shined against his ivory skin.

"What's it to ya?" You asked, crossing your legs and turning to him. You could already feel the buzz from your past drinks. You noticed the physicalities of him first: long black hair tied in a high ponytail. Business casual clothes, attractive face. He looked well put together. What caught your eye was the military dog tags around his neck. Hm. You signaled the bartender for another shot. Actually, make it three.

"It's not good for your health. I'd prefer it if you didn't die before I got the chance to take you out."

You scoffed before throwing your head back, downing your drink. It was a sharp taste, not quite good, but what did it matter? Alcohol was alcohol. "Don't flatter yourself. You aren't my type."

"Oh?" The man (who you decided to call ponytail) looked up from his book. "Then who is? Him?" Ponytail nodded his head in the direction of a rather muscular man. He seemed like a douche bag by the way he leaned against the bar as if he owned it, flirting away with any woman who looked in his direction. Your top lip twitched in disgust.

"God no," You scoffed. He seemed pleased with himself and turned back to his book. "I prefer my men to be," You hesitated, taking another drag of your cigarette. "Intellectual."

"What makes you think I'm not intellectual?" Ponytail inquired.

"Well, for starters, you tried to flirt but didn't even give me your name." You downed another shot. Your eyes traveled to the book in his hand. "And you haven't turned the page of that book once. Are you even reading, or is this your scheme to impress women?"

Ponytail chuckled, squeezing his eyes shut. It was a low angelic sound. The type of laugh to make you stop in your tracks and listen. Like all good things, it ended far too quickly.

"Oh, I wasn't flirting. I was simply saving your life." His lips quirked upwards. "Besides, names aren't meant to be shared." He said, finally flipping the page of his book. "Convince me to give it to you."

You stamped out your cigarette, "Interesting. Alright." The man didn't smile much. Not really. You could tell just by looking at him. He was the aloof, mysterious, stoic type. "I'm Y/n. So what's your story, ponytail?"

"I thought I wasn't your type?" He teased. Now it was your turn to laugh. He took a sip of his drink, Adam's apple bobbing.

"I suppose I fell for your trap." You looked into his dark blue eyes. He had a story to tell, and you wanted to draw it out of him.