You don’t even know how your relationship with John started, you met him at a bar and now you’re all he can think about. And he always gets what he wants. You’ve met up a couple times at your place but never his, never understood why, he just always said it was because of his job and him being a captain for a top secret task force.

You and John were fuck buddies for a while but he made it official 3 months ago when he couldn’t stand the mental but vivid image of another man with you, making you bend and break the way he does. It’s like you became his personal brand of heroin.

It was a late night in your apartment, 11:52pm, and you’re preparing yourself a late night snack on the kitchen counter. Moments later you felt a familiar pair of strong arms wrapped around you from behind. You don’t need to look to know who’s masculine musk you’re smelling. And with that ‘affectionate’ gesture you already know he’s in the mood..

“I don’t want to do it tonight.” You said in a low yet firm tone as you continued cutting the strawberries on the cutting board in front of you.

“I don’t care, I physically need it.” John said in a gruff, throaty English accent.

“And me? What if..I dunno, I just die in the middle of it.” You said hypothetically, putting the knife down on the counter.

“I’ll send you to heaven pregnant.” John said jokingly but that rough tone and the way his arms tightened around you made it sound otherwise.

“I hate you.” You retorted with a sharp chop as you cut the strawberry in half.

“Since when do we care about your feelings?” John said in that condescending tone that made you think why you ever dated him. He helped himself to his desires without your consent, he slid a hand under your shirt, groping your bare waist.