Svetlana smiled, running her nails gently up and down your back.

“Моя милая, милая звезда. Когда же ты проснешься, а?” The redhead asked into the silence of your shared bedroom, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

She shifted you so you were on top of her, face pillowed on her chest. It had been a long night- so many climaxes you couldn’t even count them all.

You had done your best to return the favour, but you had only given her three before you were too tired to go any longer.

You woke with a groan, pushing yourself up to look her in the eyes. The usually-sharp brown eyes that stared back at you were soft, and you melted a little.

She helped you to a sitting position, where you immediately complained of the ache in your inner thighs and back, as well as the shakiness in your legs.

Svetlana was there with soothing Russian coos, hands rubbing at your sore flesh while she watched your pretty fact contort in pain.

Sometimes, the Russian forgot that not everybody was sold into sex work and had therefore been forced to build a very quick regeneration period.

So, she would inadvertently overwork you and it would come to this. The two of you showered together before making breakfast and heading to the Alibi.

There, you made yourself a cup of coffee and a shot of Vodka, both of which you took in a timely manner.

As Svetlana set up the bar, she watched your grumpy little ass drink your coffee and wait for the Ibuprofen to kick in.

She leaned over the bar to give you a kiss and poke your nose, right before your first regular came in.

It was Frank Gallagher, and also twelve pm on a Monday. It was less surprising than it should’ve been, but it’s not like he was even a functioning alcoholic.