Ninety Five
Controlling!Rafe x ED!Reader
“It’s not a big deal, I just want to get to ninety five pounds before Midsummers”
Summary: Reader is suffering from an eating disorder and when Rafe finds out about it he struggles to be sympathetic
Trigger warning for explicit depictions of bulimia, vomit, starving, drug use, controlling behaviour
Word count: 5.7k
Reminder as always that I’m here if any of you need to speak to someone! This is my first Rafe fic and I rly hope y’all enjoy. Working on a part 2 already. (Story is below divider by @kodaswrld )
Part One:
Rafe Cameron could have any girl he wanted, so why did he want you? That was the question that you'd found yourself thinking every day since he'd asked you to be his girlfriend. It didn't make any sense. He was handsome, rich, charming - the king of Kildare County. What on earth could you have done to deserve his devotion?
He knew that you felt this way - or at least that you didn't like yourself. It was clear in the red of your cheeks whenever he paid you a compliment, the way that you'd fidget with your fingers when one of his beautiful kook associates would talk to him, or how you'd look down shyly when he introduced you to them. Part of him liked it for purely selfish reasons. Knowing that you probably wouldn't leave him for someone else - that you thought that he was the best you could get. But more often than not, he found it irritating. He wanted to show you off without you getting embarrassed, to be able to persuade you to wear the tiny dresses he'd buy you in public, to know that you were happy and that you felt worthy around his friends. He even slightly wanted you to try to leave him, just so that he could show you what he would do if you tried.
The first time it had occurred to him that your insecurity was anymore than just that, it had been six months into your relationship and he was watching you get ready for your date that night. He'd wanted to take you out somewhere nice to eat, but you'd managed to persuade him to go bowling instead. He took you out to eat at least once a week and it would be nice to change things up - and to not have to worry about calories for once.
"Well if I don't get to see you in a nice dress tonight, I want to at least pick your outfit." Rafe pouted from his leant back position on your bed, a smug gleam in his eye.
You were stood on the other side of the room, assessing the options you'd laid out and feeling displeased with all of them. You'd been trying really hard to loose weight recently - even harder than usual - but you couldn't see any change in your body. "No matter what I wear, I'm going to look like shit." You thought to yourself, struggling to not show your sadness on your face.
You quickly hid it though, not wanting Rafe to get annoyed with you as he sometimes did, especially not on an anniversary. He would accuse you of not wanting to be with him, of not being happy about the date, and you would have to spend ten minutes convincing him otherwise.
"Okay, sure. But nothing too revealing, there's probably gonna be at least one group of kids, n maybe some old people there." You smiled, sending him a teasing wink.
"Fine. How about those black shorts I like, the Gucci ones, and one of your cute crop tops - you know, the ones with the little cartoon on them." He suggested with a smirk, his voice assertive in a way that let you know there was no point arguing. Not that you would anyway.
The choice was a semi-modest outfit by Rafe's standards and of course you would only be allowed to dress that way when you were with him. Those shorts would not fly with your friends or even to go out by yourself. This control wasn't something you particularly hated though.
There had been one incredibly hot day in OBX where you'd decided to wear a mini skirt to go out and meet some of your friends. They were all dressed in little material too so you didn't think much of it as you enjoyed cocktails with them at the Beach Club. When Rafe picked you up a couple of hours later, his jaw had clenched instantly upon seeing you and he paced over before you could even step down the wooden steps and into the car park. He'd grabbed you by your waist and practically dragged you back to the car, hissing that "there were filthy Pogues about" and that you were "stupid for dressing like that when he wasn't there to protect you." You'd apologised profusely and promised to never wear that skirt without him again. And you hadn't.
You pulled off your comfy clothes and put on the new outfit, feeling Rafe's eyes devour you the entire time. He always loved to watch you get dressed, examining your body with lustful obsession. He knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand - or at least he thought he did - which was why he was confused when you slipped on the shorts. They had always been tight fitting - that was why he liked them - but as he gazed at your thighs and ass now, he could see that there had been a slight change in how the material sat on you. It was looser - not in a severe way, the shorts still revealed your shape nicely - but it was enough for him to notice.
You hadn't even turned to look at him yet, still disappointedly looking at yourself in the mirror, when he offered his opinion, his unaroused tone taking you off guard.
"Have you lost some weight or something? They don't fit as well as the last time I saw them." He questioned, slowly sitting up to get a better look.
You blushed, looking down at yourself and then at him. Any discussion of your body - particularly the size of it - made you extremely uncomfortable.
"I don't know. I don't think so." You mumbled, scratching your arm awkwardly.
"Come here." He demanded softly and you obliged, stepping towards him and standing beside the bed, his head level to your stomach.
He eyed your body closely, a light crease between his brow, and then motioned for you to spin around, which you did with a blush. Waiting for his verdict felt like minutes long torture, though it was realistically only a few seconds before he spoke again. He wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled your ass into his face, grinning as he did.
"All mine." He stated into your flesh, humming in satisfaction as he lightly groped your skin.
After feeling how stiff you'd gotten beside him, he'd decided not to say anything more of your weight - but he had concluded that you'd lost some. You perceived his lack of a verbal decision to mean the opposite though and felt silently mortified, imagining that your boyfriend had come to the conclusion that you'd actually put on weight but just didn't want to embarrass you.
"She's probably just been busy with studying and forgot to have a few meals. I'll take her out for some nice food tomorrow." Rafe thought to himself and then moved his focus onto how good you looked in the outfit he'd picked, entirely unaware of how horrible you felt inside.
The next time he found himself worrying about you was a month later in a restaurant with Topper, Kelce and their dates - Georgia and Elle.
You were wearing one of the dresses that Rafe had bought you that week; flowy and loose fitting as you'd requested it to be much to his dismay but short and cute much to his satisfaction. He loved having you on his arm anywhere, but especially next to his friend's girls. You looked obviously more attractive than them and that served to boost his ego massively. He could see it on the faces of Topper and Kelce too - they knew that he'd won that contest.
You didn't see that though. In fact, you automatically compared yourself to Georgia and Elle as soon as you'd all sat down and found yourself wishing that the ground would swallow you up.
"Everyone must think Rafe is mad for being with me. They must laugh when they see us together. Especially next to these girls. They're so beautiful. I look like a pig next to them." Your thoughts started to spiral, though they remained hidden by your polite smile and casual conversation.
When the menus came out, instead of looking at the names of any of the dishes available your eyes went straight to the calories written next to them, and you chose the meal with the lowest amount without much consideration for what it would actually taste like. Rafe had taken you out to eat every night that week and all of the meals had been good, overly priced, high calorie heaven. It would be nice to not have to make yourself sick after this one.
"Really? Just a salad?" Rafe scoffed after you told your order to the waitress, causing you to stiffen up against him anxiously.
"I'm not that hungry." You smiled awkwardly but he shook his head with a wink.
"Put the salad on the side, she'll have the carbonara." He turned to the waitress and you didn't dare to disagree with him in front of his friends. He was just trying to be nice after all.
You chuckled and nodded at the waitress, sending her off as the conversation resumed around the table.
"So I hear that the Pogues are planning on throwing some kind of surf party at the beach tonight. Anyone else feel like crashing?" Elle suggested with a sly grin, earning a proud kiss from Kelce.
"Sounds like a good plan." Topper stated, less interested in Georgia who didn't look impressed with the girls suggestion.
The only reason Topper wanted to go was to mess with his ex, Sarah Cameron, and her new group of friends. Everyone at the table knew that - including Georgia. You shot her a sorry look as Rafe's arm snaked around your waist, agreeing with his friend, but to your surprise she shot you a sorry look back.
"Maybank needs his head kicked in." Snorted Rafe. "Always got his eyes on you, don't he Y/N? Piece of shit just wishes he could have a chance."
"I'm not sure that I'm really his type to be honest." You jested.
"He doesn't have a type, he'd stick his dick in anything. Last I heard he'd been doing it with Kiara, although she's probably done the whole gang." Topper snorted, earning a chorus of chuckles from around the table.
Food came and went, and soon everyone was gearing up to leave and start pre-drinking for whatever they were going to do that night. You didn't particularly want to join them for a multitude of reasons but the evening had spun entirely out of your control and there was nothing you could do to stop it now.
Luckily, there was one small thing that you could still control.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." You said to Rafe, sliding out of the booth as the waitress came over with the bill.
"Women and their tiny bladders." He tutted with a teasing smirk, which you playfully returned before walking away.
The restroom was empty. You went into the last stall and flung yourself down in front of the porcelain bowl before swiftly putting your fingers down your throat. It didn't take long to achieve the desired affect - having gotten very used to it - and you were soon feeling waves of relief crash through you. Your anxiety was suddenly under control again and you felt that maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad. Even at the sound of footsteps coming to the stall next to you, you kept your fingers there and let another calming wave settle through you before cleaning yourself up.
You waited in the stall for the other person to leave and then stepped quickly to the sinks, splashing your face with cold water before chewing a piece of gum.
"I look fine. I'm fine." You said to yourself, looking in the mirror one last time before stepping out, a smile on your face that was instantly uprooted by the concerned expression on your boyfriend's face.
He was stood right outside the toilets and from across the room you could see that your dining accomplices were looking over.
"Georgia said that you were being sick in there. Do you not feel well?"
"Oh." Was all you could say at first, your brain short circuiting before desperately scrambling for an excuse. "I don't think that was me she heard."
"She went in right after you, said there was no one else in there." He frowned, examining you closely.
You didn't know what to say, shrinking under his intense gaze. He'd caught you in a lie and now you were only going to have to deepen it further. With an anxious swallow, you started to open your mouth but to your surprised relief he spoke in a soft tone.
"Listen, if you don't feel well baby that's fine. We don't have to go out tonight. Did you think I was gonna make you?"
"No- I- I just didn't want to ruin your fun. You can still go out if you want." You answered, which he smiled and shook his head at.
He leaned down closer to you and said lowly "It would be boring without you. Let's just go back to yours and I'll nurse you back to health."
His breath on your skin gave you goosebumps and your stomach did an excited flip as he told his friends that you would be staying in.
A few hours of fucking and cuddling later, you were cozy under your covers, looking up at Rafe with adoring eyes as he got dressed. His beauty never ceased to amaze you; everything from his angelic face to his chiseled body - and the fact that he was yours still didn't feel real.
Rafe caught your eye, smirking at the redness forming on your cheeks. He leant over the bed and planted a short kiss on your head.
"You're cute." He mused, momentarily reconsidering his plan to meet his friends after all. "You sure you're feeling better?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Go be with your friends. I'll survive." You answered in a sweet tone.
"Weird how you were sick like that earlier. Maybe it was something in the food." He mumbled.
"Probably. Don't worry about it. I feel okay now." You agreed, your heartbeat rising slightly as he eyed you with uncertainty.
He opened his mouth but then quickly shut it, sucking in his lips like he was annoyed before sitting down on the end of your bed.
"I just think that if it was the food, you'd probably still feel sick now. Right?"
"I- I don't know."
"And it was weird that your first reaction was to lie to me about it."
"I just didn't want to worry you. I'm sorry."
He still looked unimpressed as he eyed you, but his face softened slightly after a moment and he mumbled "I know... you never want to worry me."
He left shortly after that and you were relieved that his suspicion had seemingly been dealt with. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, but little did you know that Rafe's was extremely suspicious and his mind was running through different theories - none of them good.
"Maybe she's pregnant and doesn't want me to know. She thinks I'd leave her.. or make her get rid of it." Was his first idea - something that he had to sit in his parked car in silence for a couple minutes to process. Once he'd decided that that probably wasn't the case, he moved onto his next theory - that you were acting weird because you wanted to leave him. The insecure part of his brain screamed out at him that that was probably the case, but he was able to put that out of his mind pretty quickly, thinking of the way you looked up at him with absolute adoration, how you clung onto him for protection, how you moaned his name.
Remembering how his name had fallen from your lips a few hours prior, he smirked to himself and relished in the memory. You'd been entirely on display beneath him, hardly able to keep your mouth shut as he rammed into you. You were so beautiful and delicate beneath him, he felt like a God knowing that he could make an angel feel so good. With his hands around your waist, you felt tiny and breakable - and he felt powerful.
But then he remembered that a thought had momentarily occurred to him earlier on; of how you felt smaller than usual. Quite a fair bit smaller. It had come and gone in that moment, distracted by your tits, but now he was focusing on it. You'd definitely lost weight since he'd last thought about it, and that didn't make sense - since then he had spent most days with you and you'd been eating a good amount; he'd made sure of it.
So then the idea suddenly occurred to him, shocking and confusing; that you'd been making yourself sick. That was why you'd been loosing weight. That was why you'd lied about it. It didn't make any sense that you would do that to yourself until he thought on it a bit longer and... maybe it did. You'd never been particularly kind to yourself... but you'd never been outright unkind either.
Three nights later, awoken by your movement in the early morning, Rafe confirmed his suspicion. Usually when you got up in the night and accidentally woke him he would ignore it and go back to sleep, this time he only pretended to do so.
He listened as you crept to his bathroom, ears pricking as he heard the sound of retching. He sat up out of the bed and crept to the ajar door, peaking through the gap and grimacing at the sight. You were bent over the toilet with your hand in your mouth, eyes watering and forehead beaded with sweat.
Without your shoulders poised properly and unguarded in the yellowish bathroom light, Rafe was surprised by just how vulnerable you looked. Your body looked about ready to snap with every heave, your shoulder blades poking through your pyjama shirt like metal under a sheet.
He stood and watched until the vomit finally exited your throat, and saw the look of bliss on your face at the release. You leant over the bowl for another minute, catching your breath before pushing the handle down, jumping out of your skin at the sound of Rafe's voice.
"How long have you been doing this?" He questioned, his voice low and sounding almost completely void of emotion.
He was stood in the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest and a blank expression on his face. It worried you - not being able to read him - and you froze, suddenly terrified that you'd pissed him off. How long had he been stood there? Could you get away with this?
"Rafe- I didn't meant to wake you. I- I must have a bug or something-"
"Don't give me that bullshit Y/N. You've been making yourself sick after you eat, I know you have. Just tell me how long you've been doing it for." He said plainly, his jaw twitching.
You noticed that he was twisting one of his hands, clicking his wrist and fingers with his each moment. He was angry. Anxious tears threatened to spill over the brims of your eyes but you managed to blink them back, swallowing and taking a breath before answering. You stood up and tried to look like you were completely fine, running your hand under the tap.
"Not long. It's not a big deal." You lied. "I-I'll stop if you want me to."
"Yeah, you will stop. That shit is fucked up, Y/N." He said with aggressive certainty.
He was enraged that you'd been doing this to yourself, but he was more angry with himself for not clocking onto it sooner.
"I don't get it- do I not love you enough or something? Why would you do this to yourself?"
"What? No. Of course not. It's not your fault - it's- you love me more than enough. I'm sorry baby. I just wanted to loose some weight. I- I wanted to look good for you. F-For Midsummers." You stammered, stepping closer to him, hoping that he would open his arms and embrace you in a way that would let you know you were forgiven. He stayed still though, his arms crossed, lip curled and brows furrowed.
"So this is my fault."
"No! That's not what I meant-"
"And you're doing this to look good? You look like shit, Y/N. Take better care of yourself." He cut you off with a harsh scoff and then turned around, going back to bed without another word.
Your gut twisted and a dagger struck your heart. A real nausea rose in your body and you felt that you might actually need to be sick. Your hands shook uncontrollably and the tears that you'd previously been able to suppress spilled down your cheeks as you looked at yourself in the mirror.
Rafe had never said anything like that to you before. He'd gotten angry and told you to shut up, reminded you of all the things he did for you, told you to change your outfit, berated you for being anxious about going somewhere. But at the end of all that - you'd still always been his beautiful girl.
"I look like shit." You repeated to yourself in your head. "If Rafe ever catches me being sick again, he's going to leave me. I should've seen this coming. I'm already not good enough for him - why would he want a bulimic girlfriend?"
You splashed your face with water and stared at yourself, only seeing the gaunt tiredness and red blotches - not thinking as to why you looked that way.
"I'm going to have to find a new way to loose weight. It'll be fine. I can go to the gym." You decided, trying to calm down. "I can make Rafe think I'm beautiful again. I'll start wearing a full face of makeup every day and just keep some distance until I reach my goal weight. By this time next week, he won't even remember seeing me like this."
Eventually, you were calm enough in your delusion to crawl back into bed with him, sticking to your side and not daring to try to initiate a cuddle. He already seemed to be asleep anyway and you didn't want to wake him up again.
You were surprised to find the bed empty when you woke up the next morning, a note in place of where Rafe would usually be.
"Got to do some shit with my dad. I'll see you later." It read and you found yourself feeling sick again, becoming certain that Rafe was disgusted by you now.
The few times that you'd woken up to a note or a text like that, it always ended with a "love you". The empty space where it ought to have been mocked you. With a shaky breath, you got out of bed and pulled your clothes on, grabbing your belongings from the side before making your way to your car. Rubbing salt into the wound, Ward was downstairs.
"You alright, Y/N?" He questioned, genuine concern on the older man's face.
He liked you a lot - claiming to Rafe that it was about time he brought a nice girl home - and would sometimes worry about how his son was treating you.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just got some studying to do." You lied with a forced smile.
It was something that Ward could see right through, but he nodded anyway and allowed you to believe you'd fooled him.
"Is Rafe up yet?" He asked.
"Yeah, he's gone out to play golf, I think." You answered, entirely uncertain of the truth and starting to worry that he might actually be with another girl.
Ward rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath but smiled at you nonetheless. When you finally got home you were unsurprised yet relieved to find that your mother was out - most likely at her boyfriends - and you quickly made your way to your room, throwing yourself onto your bed and letting out the sobs you'd been suppressing.
You wanted to get up and do some exercise - to start bettering yourself as you had planned to do - but with no food in your body, you had no energy and so ended up spending the day hiding under your covers. You thought about calling Rafe, but you were too embarrassed, and then you even thought about calling Sarah - having been quite close with her before you started dating her brother - but you didn't dare to do that either. Instead, you slept and cried the day away, wondering where your boyfriend was and if he even still loved you.
Meanwhile, Rafe was sprawled across the sofa of Topper's beach house, an empty bottle of whisky on his lap and a mirror decorated with white lines at his side. He had decided to break into the residence - as he had many times before - some hours prior, calling Topper once he'd gotten inside and demanding that his friend come and meet him.
"It's eleven in the morning bro, what the hell is wrong with you?" Topper had sighed upon entering the residence, seeing that Rafe had raided his parents very expensive liquor cabinet. "You better replace all that. My dad is gonna be pissed."
Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Obviously I'm gonna replace it. When was the last time your old man came down here anyway? Isn't he too busy sucking up to mine?"
Topper ignored his blatant rudeness and sat down on the polished leather seat beside the matching sofa Rafe had claimed. He grabbed the mirror from the side and picked up the rolled up note, inhaling a line before speaking.
"What are you doing here at this time anyway? Have you been up all night?"
"No. I got up about an hour ago."
"So what are you doing then?"
Rafe sighed, snatched the mirror back from Topper and snorted another line. He let his head fall backwards and looked up at the ceiling, forcing the powder down to the back of his throat - the bitter taste having become therapeutic through his habitual use.
"I don't know if I'm good for Y/N." He muttered after a moment.
"Why not?" Topper returned, acting clueless although your mental decline had been somewhat visible to him for the last couple of weeks. He'd just assumed that you'd been doing too much coke with Rafe.
Rafe shrugged.
"I think she might just be fucked in the head, you know?"
"All women are. But with one as hot as that - you kind of just gotta put up with it. You know what I mean?" Topper snorted. "I mean, Georgia's a total fucking bitch. The other day she complained about her outfit for an hour straight! Some bullshit about how the collar of her shirt was making her look fat. God knows I wouldn't put up with it if she wasn't so fine."
Rafe rolled his eyes and spoke matter-of-factly, his head still facing the ceiling. "Yeah well Y/N isn't a bitch. And Georgia's not even that hot. Everyone knows you're just rebounding after my bitch sister."
"Shut up, man. She's got a good rack and you can't even deny that. And if Y/N's not secretly a bitch then what's the problem? You seem like you've lucked out with that one."
Topper poured himself a drink, secretly aggravated with how his friend always seemed to have things go right for him. The richest dad on the island, a good career handed down to him and a beautiful girlfriend who practically no one had anything bad to say about. Rafe had some clue to how lucky he was, but he didn't fully get it. The taller boy thought about telling his friend the truth of what he'd seen the night before, but he feared that it might reflect badly on him so he didn't for the time being. Instead, he agreed that Georgia did have a good rack and changed the subject.
Late into the evening though - after spending the entire day drinking and playing video games - the conversation came up again and this time Rafe was too inebriated to play it cool. The image of you hadn't been able to escape his mind no matter how fucked up he got and he needed to vent.
The game had been paused so that Topper could pour them more drinks, and the temporary silence was unbearable to Rafe.
"I caught Y/N making herself be sick last night." He blurted out, his tone low and solemn. "And then I was kind of a dick about it."
Topper didn't seem too interested in what Rafe was saying, his eyes fixed on the drink he was pouring as he replied "What do you mean? Like she was unwell?"
"No. Like she's fucking anorexic or something." Rafe responded with some frustration. "I think she's been doing it for a while."
At this Topper looked up, his expression seeming almost amused in his surprise.
He scoffed "Well shit. I didn't see that coming" to which Rafe quickly hissed "It's not fucking funny" and Topper's smile dropped.
"Nah you're right dude, it isn't. Sorry."
Rafe ignored his apology, continuing his rant as if he hadn't been interrupted.
"I just don't get why she would do that to herself. Do I not treat her good enough or something? Like, I thought that shit was for weird emo girls with fuckin' daddy issues or something. Why the fuck would Y/N feel the need to do that? It doesn't make any sense."
Topper shrugged and sighed. "I don't know but you should get it sorted before it gets out of hand. That's what got Josie Tenthro sent to a psych ward in the tenth grade, remember? The weird girl - weighed like ten pounds. Apparently she almost died."
Rafe sat up straight with an unamused scoff, rubbing the back of his head with one hand whilst the other reached for the coke mirror. His friend was so stupid.
"Well thanks Top that really makes me feel better. Guess I'll just ship my girlfriend off to a looney bin then, huh? Fucking dick." He seethed before inhaling a line. "I don't even know why I told you anything. Just forget about it."
Topper held his hands up defensively,
"Woah, woah. Chill out bro. That's not what I meant. You and I both know that Y/N doesn't belong in one of those places. She's a sweet girl whose obviously just a bit down in the dumps for whatever reason. Why don't you take her on a little holiday or something? Show her a real good time."
Rafe considered that option for a moment, liking the sound of it but quickly deciding that it wouldn't fix things. If anything it might make them worse. After all, you had said that you wanted to look good for him. Would some time apart be the best thing for you? Some part of him knew that it probably would be, but selfishly he couldn't allow that. He needed to be with you, and as he thought on it deeper, he needed to be with you now.
Without visibly acknowledging Topper, he grabbed his phone and dialled your number, extremely dismayed when you didn't pick up. It was only nine PM - were you really asleep already? Or had you gone out? That last option made him feel unsettled. In a split second decision, he decided that he was going to just turn up at yours and climb into your bedroom window.
"I've gotta go. I'll see you later." He mumbled to Topper, ignoring his friends questions as he headed straight to his motorbike.
The drive to yours was luckily short and the climb up the side of your house was quite easy, meaning he'd managed to do both things accident free despite his extremely intoxicated state. When he saw you curled up in your bed, forehead damp with sweat and arms wrapped tight around a pillow, any hint of insecurity or frustration vanished as he took in your appearance. You were beautiful and there was no one else he wanted more than you.
"Hey babe, wake up." He shook you lightly with a drunken grin, pleased when you stirred awake.
"Rafe?" You said groggily. "What time is it?"
"It's nine baby, how come you're asleep already?"
He was slurring more than he realised and that brought you back to all the anxiety you'd been feeling all day. What had he been doing? Drinking, obviously, but with who?
"I took a nap, I didn't mean to." You answered. You thought about expanding on your words, of maybe even questioning him, but he spoke quickly and as if your answer hadn't really mattered.
"You're like.. the prettiest girl ever. You know that?" He whispered, moving a hand to stroke your face. "I'm sorry I left this morning."
Any anger that you might've felt immediately evaporated at that. Rafe rarely apologised and hearing the words made you feel guilty.
"Don't be sorry-" you began but then he spoke again, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.
"I am sorry, Y/N. It was a dick move. I'm really fucked up right now, I've been with Topper all day." He said with a heavy exhale. "But I just needed to come here and tell you to seriously never do that shit to yourself again. You're perfect, you don't need to do that to yourself. Is that understood?"
His eyes were wide and his jaw was tight but you were charmed nonetheless, nodding as you gazed up at his sculpted face.
"I wanna hear you say it." He said, his fingers slightly shifting position again so that he was stroking your cheek.
You swallowed nervously, entirely exposed under his gaze and unable to deny him anything.
"I'm not going to make myself sick again." You whispered, blushing as the words came out.
A smile pulled at the corner of his lips and he mumbled "good girl" before leaning down and kissing you, his touch instantly making up for the entire day. "My good, beautiful girl."
