Short and sweet 👹😈
That jacket was so fucking trashy. It was this disgusting, fake ass snakeskin. You really wished he'd wear a shirt, too, but alas, he was Goro fucking Majima. Motherfucker don't need a shirt... Or something along the lines of that. You'd stopped listening.
You'd also made the mistake of getting ready to go out with your friends in front of him, so now he'd buzzed around you instead of going and doing his own thing. Eventually, he'd ended up coming with you and partying with your friends, much to their excitement, actually. Your boyfriend was well known and had access to most of the VIP clubs. (He just forced his way, otherwise)
Plus, his look drove off weirdos.
His leather fingers had struggled to keep to themselves, groping and holding you so people were aware of who you belonged to. The same could be said about his mouth - the man had practically kissed you all over, felt you all over. Absolute sugary sin had been rolling off his tongue all night, too. How sexy you looked in your tiny dress, how fantastic your perfume smelled, all the naughty, filthy, disgusting stuff he was going to do to you as a result of you being so bold as to come out looking as good as that.
Majima knew all the right words, and how to say them.
Breaking off from your friends, who had moved their partying onto a group of lads from the last club, you and Goro decided to hit the batting cages together. Taking you along by your hand, his heart swelled with pride when you brought yourself close to his side, letting him drape his arm around you instead. You were his girl alright.
"Baby, yer freezin'!" His tone was concerned, hand rubbing your arm to create heat.
"I'll be fine," you lied, feeling winter's bite on your skin. "We'll be inside soon, anyway."
"Nawww!" Before you could protest a single word, he was taking it off, draping it over your shoulders. It was warm, soft, and it smelled divine, a gentle mix of tobacco and expensive cologne on his natural body scent. Squeezing your shoulders together, you inhaled, sighing contently. It felt like a warm hug.
"Y/N, ya look hot as hell in that! Daaaayum, I shoulda let ya wear it in the club. Fuckin' killer, woman."
Giggling, you dragged him along by his fingers, telling him to hurry it up or he'd freeze.
"Come on, or you'll end up a Majcicle out here."
"Don't worry 'bout me, I been through worse. Besides, yer burnin' me, lookin' an absolute knockout like that. Miaoooww..."
"Be quiet," you hissed playfully, slapping his wandering hands up your dress and looking him in the eye with a sultry glare. "And keep your hands to yourself. Didn't your mom teach you any manners?"
"Can't be polite 'round ya, lookin' like that."
"Give over!" you giggled, driving him crazy with featherlight kisses.
He had a point though. As much as you hated that stupid jacket, it had the power to make anyone look good. Guess you were gonna be the hottest girl at the batting cages.