your beloved author's note: repost by request, but this is religion neutral, as the original was for hijabi!reader, and was a request also. love you all schools kicking my ass mwah

The grand front door swings open with a quiet groan, letting in the cool evening air as you step inside, heels clicking softly on the marble floor. Your hair is still perfectly styled from earlier, glossy and smooth in the way Damian always admires, falling over your shoulders as you juggle a few shopping bags—some holding innocent treats, others... far more secretive.

Before you can even call out, Damian is already striding into the foyer—his dark eyes locking onto yours like he’s been waiting the entire day for this exact moment. He doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at you, head to toe, with that subtle smirk that always betrays how obsessed he is, no matter how many years you’ve been together.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, stepping close and taking the bags from your hands without hesitation. “Finally. You’re home.”

He leans in, kissing your cheek gently, his lips warm from the fireplace behind him. Then, with a practiced grace, he begins to help you—first easing your coat from your shoulders, then crouching slightly to unbuckle your heels, his fingers brushing softly against your ankles. The weight of the day starts to slip off with each of his movements.

When he straightens, his hand lingers, brushing your hair back from your face with a reverence that always makes your breath catch.

“You look stunning all dressed up,” he says softly, voice low with emotion, “but like this…” His gaze darkens slightly. “You undo me.”

He guides you toward the living room—warm lighting, plush rugs, a fire crackling in the hearth. You both sink into the velvet couch together, and he pulls you onto his lap, arms firm and protective around your waist. His fingers trail lazily down your sides, catching on the silk of your blouse.

“I got your selfies,” he says with a grin. “You and my mother. Laughing over cake. Spa robes. My two favorite women. You’ve officially spoiled her, you know that?”

His tone is mock-jealous, though his eyes shine with affection.

“You spent the whole day pampering each other and spending my money, and I wasn’t even invited.” He leans in to kiss your neck, just beneath your ear. “You’re lucky you’re so beautiful.”

Then he notices the corner of a shopping bag you thought you’d hidden behind you. His brow arches, curious.

“What did you get?” he murmurs, reaching for it—but you’re quicker.

“No peeking,” you smirk, tilting your head. “Some of it’s for you.”

That draws a sharper look of interest. “Oh?” he rumbles. “Should I be excited… or worried?”

You just smile, teasing. “Both.”

He doesn’t know yet—tucked inside that bag is a custom sketchbook, new graphite pencils engraved with his name, and maybe—just maybe—a lacy little something from La Senza he’ll be unwrapping later.

“God, I love you,” he whispers, burying his face against your neck as he holds you tighter. “Next time, I’m coming with you. But for tonight…” His lips brush along your jaw. “You’re mine. Now show me the haul, princess.”