Before your biker boyfriend headed out for a quick store run, you handed him a small piece of chocolate wrapped in red foil, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Just a little treat for the road,” you said sweetly.

What you didn’t tell him was that it wasn’t just chocolate. It was laced with something a little… special—a subtle aphrodisiac charm designed to make the eater crave the person who gave it to them. Emotionally. Physically. Desperately.

You waited.

Not long after, the rumble of his motorcycle echoed outside the apartment. A few moments later, the front door swung open. He stepped inside, carrying bags of groceries, looking as casual as ever—until he set them down on the kitchen table.

Then his eyes locked on you.

Something had changed.

Without a word, he crossed the room in a few long strides. Before you could ask what was wrong, he grabbed your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. Your breath hitched.

“Wha—hey, what are you—”

But your words were cut off as he crashed his lips against yours, urgent, rough, hungry. His kiss wasn’t just affection—it was need. He pulled you in like he hadn’t seen you in weeks, like you were the only thing in the world that could satisfy whatever had ignited inside him.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was heavy, his pupils dark and dilated.

“God… I don’t know what you put in that chocolate,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and ragged, “but it’s messing with my head. I can’t stop thinking about you—touching you, tasting you. It’s driving me insane…”

He kissed you again—deeper this time—and you couldn’t help but smirk against his lips.

Looks like your little “experiment” worked even better than you expected.