𝖍𝖝𝖍 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

Cherry Cell

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Summary: Phinks has a proclivity to watch s/o get dressed for date night.

Author: Reitea (on ao3)

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Phinks leaned against the frame of the doorway, a beer in hand. It was designated 'date night,' and while his work had him in a perpetual state of coming and going, whenever he was around he made sure to take you out as often as possible. You supposed it made him feel like he was taking care of you, being a good partner, even when he literally locked you in the apartment every time he left.

"Go get cleaned up," he had said when he returned after a week away and immediately went to the fridge with a new case of beer. He had hardly spared you a glance; still you set down the book, and did what you were told.

Like always, the bathroom door was left open when you showered, knowing well to abide by the 'open door policy' Phinks had set early on in the relationship. At some point when rinsing the product from your hair, you had heard the shower curtain being drawn back. He didn't join you; he never did, just watched. He liked watching you.

He held out a towel when you turned off the water, and stepped wordlessly out of the way as you walked past to the second side bedroom that had been repurposed as your closet/beauty room. He had taken his customary place in the doorway, downing half the bottle in one long swig; content to still silently watch you dress.

Now you riffled through the hangers in your closet, taking some dresses out to hold up against your body. He never told you where he was taking you, just expected you to doll yourself up for the date.

He stared off into the distance. "Wear the blue one."

"I wore the blue one last time." You pulled out a deep wine colored dress with a severe heart shaped neckline and held it to your body, twisting and turning in thought, regarding all the different angles.

"The blue one is my favorite." Whether you drew this out or not, you knew the only way you'd be stepping foot out of this apartment, the first time in a week, was in the outfit he wanted. Phinks was a man of habit. He liked what he liked and never responded well to change.

With a huff you resigned to wear the same dress out for the 5th, no 6th time. A part of you felt shame for the other gorgeous designer dresses that filled your closet; a large portion remained unworn with tags.

Phinks had only been back 20 minutes and you were already growing weary. Still, even if it meant only being let out for a few hours tonight, the time practically a kin to walking a dog across town and back, you wanted out of this space and to breath fresh air again. You retrieved the correct hanger, the dress in question a deep navy blue halter with a moderate v neckline, lace up back, and a rather deep single thigh slit. It really was beautiful, but not enough to wear 5, no 6, times in a row.

He hummed his approval at your choice.

You hung the dress on the side of the mirror, and dropped your towel on the floor, taking a seat at the vanity. His reflection clearly visible and ever watchful in the mirror, an intense brown gaze, his sharp eyes followed every motion of your hands, their every stroke as you moisturized your skin, primed your face for make up, then applied said makeup. This was his favorite part. The growing bulge in his pants ever the indicator.

You failed to understand the origin of his captivation with watching you dress. Maybe it was the same fascination you felt watching artists paint or draw on youtube or social media sites, like watching a masterpiece be created in front of you. Over the past months, Phinks made you feel like maybe you were a masterpiece to him. This train of thought made you slightly more empathetic to his severe treatment of the limited social contact you were allowed to have with the outside world. He just wanted to keep you safe, right? People did crazy things all the time when they were in love, right?

Applying the finishing touches to your face and hair, you saw him approach. His breath tickled the back of your neck. You felt him breathing in your scent, smelling the perfume you had dabbed lightly behind your ears. You reached a hand behind you to scratch the back of his neck.

It was in these small warm gestures you periodically administered that kept him accommodating of you. It was a fragile balance. Too much touching and forward attention lead to Phinks punishing you for behaving like a vile 'needy slut' or 'whore.' Not enough touching/attention and he'd get angry, claiming you were ignoring him or he'd accuse you of not loving him enough, despite covering all your expenses and providing you with so much. "Gold-digging bitch," you recalled the words so vividly. Either way you'd be punished. Keeping the right balance was imperative; you had learned through a very traumatic trial and error process.

It paid off though. Now he practically purred at your touch. "I'm back," he breathed into your hair, now fixed in a simple French-roll updo. His large hand lightly traced over the curve of your shoulder and dipped down to brush over an exposed nipple. "Missed me?" It wasn't exactly a question.

You smiled. "Welcome back, Phinks. How did your business trip go?"

And then his hands were on your neck. You went completely still, withdrawing your hand from him. You had to clutch it in your lap to keep from visibly shaking. Phinks was very rarely unpredictable in his temperament. Those few times he suddenly snapped made a mental crater so profound it had you flinching whenever he unexpectedly touched a more vulnerable part of your body, specifically parts that when easily crushed would result in death. Not that he wanted to hurt or kill you; he just had trouble controlling his strength sometimes, you reasoned.

When he withdrew his hands, around your neck rested a magnificent thick festoon styled diamond necklace. The jewelry was so large, the gems so dazzling it didn't look real, something more akin to costume jewelry. It was real though. Your boyfriend had a thing for authenticity.

"Really well." The smirk carved into his lips as he rubbed your bare shoulders, thumbs circling the knotted muscles of your back, gave you a sense that he was incredibly proud of his score. Pride was wafting off him as he silently chuckled to himself. He never told you what kind of business he dabbled in. There was never a need; you weren't dumb, nor did you feel comfortable enough to bring it up. You were perfectly fine ignoring the big fat elephant in the room if it meant keeping him content and yourself blissfully ignorant.

When you didn't respond right away the hold on your shoulders tightened, thumbs feeling like small stabs digging into your back. "Don't you like it, (y/n)? After all the trouble I went through to bring this back for you, you'd think I receive a little appreciation. I even got into it with another guy that had his hands on it first."

Knowing better than to try pulling away from him despite the pain, you smiled through it, eyes beginning to water. "I'm sorry, babe. It's just so beautiful it left me speechless. It's absolutely gorgeous, just stunning." You made yourself meet his dark eyes in the mirror; they were already beginning to soften. "Thank you so, so much, Phinks. You make me so happy."

His grip loosened at your admission, and you were unable to withhold the audible whimper of relief that escaped at the loss of pressure. He ignored it and immediately perked up again, clearly determined to not allow you to dampen his exulted mood.

He leaned down to kiss your temple. "I'm glad you like it. I know you're in the middle of getting dressed, so you're not able to thank me properly now, but I know I'll receive a proper 'thank you' later tonight." He kissed your temple once more, personality now heavy with a genuine playful air. "I'm going to get dressed. Fix your makeup," he said, walking out the room. "There are smudges under your eyes."

You stared at yourself in the mirror, unmoving. Bits of mascara from your lower lashes had bled onto the under eye concealer. There was no way around that part looking cakey tonight, you'd be forced to apply another set of liquid concealer and setting powder on top the original application.

Phinks's blonde head popped back into view. "And change into a dress with a back. Shame, you would've been beautiful tonight." You nodded back your understanding and wondered just how long the developing bruises were going to last this time.