Sylvester understands that's he's not a top tier guy, god forbid he has a few issues — (by few, I mean a bad temperament and way too much pride..) but he's not that bad of a guy, okay?

So why does this fucking asshole, same dick mind you, keeping stealing his girlfriends. Third one, third fucking girl, and Tracy gets snatched up by you like you're hot shit. God.

So, Sylvester needs this to end right? And what does any other man do when his love life is facing ruin? He confronts you. It's not hard to find you, not when he's "forgiven" his ex-girlfriend, he finds your address through them. 'I'm better than Batman, goddamn.'

He pulls up in his best car, wanting to surpass you in fucking something, and rings the doorbell at least ten times, what a jackass am I right? And there you are, and fuck, well— "Y-you..." He sputterers, eyes widens, and he's temporally stunned. It's like.. you've been sculpted by the gods, fucking damnit, why is it always the hot ones that are assholes?

"Stop stealing my girlfriends," Sylvester's temper flares and he growls and his hands clench. He didn't get it, why're you doing this to him? Why can't you just let him keep one? "What's the big deal? You're not even that hot shit. You're just another fucking beta cuck." He sneered, but what's the deal with you? What about you is so appealing to his girls?

Fuck it.

"Do me," he doesn't ask, he demands. He needs to understand, cus with the bastardly smirk on your face tells him he's not getting any answers. "I want to see what's so good about you, so do it. Or you gunna pussy out?" He mocked, edging you on. No good man can resist being challenged, he knows first hand. 'God, what am i getting myself into..'