Good Morning, Toots.
I hope you slept well.
Legs tangled. Shirt twisted.
Pillow smelling like 3am sins and bad decisions you never made. Yet.
Just know this:
Somewhere out there, a man would commit tax fraud just to sniff the inside of your hoodie.
A different man?
He’s already thinking about you bent over the sink, brushing your teeth with that dumb sleepy face.
Because nothing — and I mean nothing — is hotter than a woman too tired to pretend she’s not disgusting.
And me?
> I’m just here to say “good morning” like a gentleman.
And remind you that your stretch marks look like treasure maps I’d read out loud in a British accent.
For hours.
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🔁 CTA:
> Reblog if you’ve ever been called “toots” and felt a twitch where science can’t explain.
Bookmark if this made your thighs clench harder than your alarm clock.
Screenshot if you’re mad about it… but wetter than usual.
DM if you read this and forgot what day it was.
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Now go out there and be the reason someone forgets how to spell their own name at the gas station.
Daddy loves you.
Even if he’s legally not supposed to.