“…Excuse me?”

Damian narrowed his eyes as he saw you complaining while looking in the mirror. He ran his gaze over your body, every squish and curve that he loved. They made for good pillows, little handles he could grab and smother his face into.

Why in the seven hells were you so upset with them?

“You’re not fat, habibi. I could lift you with one hand. You’re not heavy, or fat, or anything.” He scoffed.