Soft enough to bruise, sweet enough to ruin you.

I write the kind of men who don’t just notice sweetness — they fixate on it, linger too long, press just enough to see how easily it gives; from the gentle ones who cradle it like something rare to the ones who can’t help but bruise it just to watch it deepen — all of them learning your softness by touch alone, savoring you slowly, indulgently, like something ripe and meant to be ruined; smooth or heavy, careful or consuming… either way, once they’ve had a taste, they don’t let go — they keep coming back, again and again, like they’ve decided you’re theirs to crave.

Taste at your own risk...