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nausicaamusiclover20 · 3 days ago

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Hi! I hope you're doing well!

Can I request Dave Mustaine cozy smut where the reader refused to have sex with him because she's insecure for a couple of weeks now, only ever blew him, stopped changing infront of him and doesn't use the pool anymore? Then he catches her crying and they have a talk about it which ends in him praising her tons, smut and lots of aftercare

Totally get if not, no pressure! Just, softie dave brainrot 🫣

I wish you're doing well too, I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: Themes of body insecurity, emotional vulnerability, and intimate relationship moments.

Shattered Insecurities

I tried not to let the tears spill over, but they were stubborn, burning my eyes as I hugged my knees tighter to my chest. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I told myself for the hundredth time that I was being ridiculous, that I shouldn’t feel this way, but it didn’t help. My insecurities had been gnawing at me for weeks now, whispering cruel thoughts about my body, about how I didn’t measure up. It was why I’d stopped changing in front of him, why I avoided the pool like it was cursed, and why I’d refused anything more than fleeting physical intimacy.

I heard his footsteps before I saw him, the familiar rhythm that always made me feel safe, even now as I tried to shrink into myself. The door creaked open, and Dave’s voice was soft but concerned.

“Hey, baby, what’s going on?”

I quickly swiped at my face, trying to hide the evidence, but it was too late. He was by my side in seconds, crouching down so we were eye level. His wild red hair framed his face, and his blue eyes searched mine, full of worry.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I lied, but my voice cracked, betraying me.

“Don’t do that,” he said gently, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear. “Don’t shut me out.”

I looked away, ashamed. “It’s stupid. I don’t want to bother you with it.”

He let out a soft, exasperated laugh. “You could never bother me, Y/N. Talk to me. Please.”

His sincerity was a warmth I couldn’t resist. I took a shaky breath, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I just… I don’t feel good about myself right now. About my body. It’s been eating me alive. And I didn’t want you to… I don’t know. See me like this. Feel disappointed.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked almost hurt. But then his expression softened, and he moved to sit beside me on the bed, taking my hands in his.

“That’s why you don’t change in front of me anymore? Why don't you go to the pool? Why we’re not…” He hesitated, his voice dropping even lower. “Why we’re not having sex?”

I nodded, ashamed, and he exhaled, his grip on my hands tightening slightly.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Do you know that? Not just because of how you look—though, trust me, that’s enough to drive me crazy every day—but because of who you are. The way you laugh, the way you care for people, the way you’re so unapologetically you.”

I blinked at him, stunned, and he continued, his hands squeezing mine.

“And your body? God, Y/N. I love every inch of you. Every curve, every line, everything that makes you you. I’ve never once thought you were anything less than breathtaking. And if you can’t see that right now, that’s okay. I’ll keep reminding you until you do.”

My chest ached with the weight of his words, and I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. But this time, they weren’t out of sadness. They were because of him, because of how deeply he cared. He didn’t hesitate to pull me into his arms, holding me as I cried into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be,” he said firmly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

We stayed like that for a while, his arms wrapped around me, grounding me. When I finally pulled back, he looked at me with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Now, if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you just how much I mean everything I said.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss so soft and reverent that it made my heart ache. His hands came up to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks as if I were something precious. When he pulled away, he didn’t go far, resting his forehead against mine.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he murmured.

He guided me gently, his hands never leaving my skin as he shifted us back onto the bed. His touch was deliberate but unhurried, as if he wanted me to feel every ounce of his devotion. His kisses trailed from my lips to my neck, his whispers of affection a soft hum against my skin.

Each touch felt like a promise, his hands tracing over me with reverence, pausing at moments to meet my gaze, his eyes filled with nothing but love. As his lips brushed across my collarbone, he murmured, “You’re so beautiful. Every inch of you, perfect.”

When his hands moved over my body, his touch was both tender and confident, and every caress came with a soft reassurance. “This is mine to cherish,” he whispered as his fingertips traced the curve of my waist. “You have no idea how stunning you are to me.”

But when he entered me, it was different. There was a soft intensity to it, a sense of connection that went beyond the physical. He didn't rush, didn't push me into anything. He moved with a tenderness that made me feel like I was the most precious thing in the world.

When he pulled back for a moment, his eyes locked on mine, full of warmth and concern. His breathing was heavy, but his touch remained gentle as he reached up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing across my skin with such care. His touch sent a shiver through me, not from desire, but from the tenderness of it, the way he seemed to be saying without words that I was safe with him.

"Are you okay?" His voice was soft, a whisper against the rhythm of our bodies. His forehead rested against mine, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped.

I nodded, my chest tightening with emotion as I whispered, "Yeah, I'm good. Just… needed this."

He smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips, his hand never leaving my face. "I’m here," he murmured. "I’ve got you."

Each thrust was accompanied by a kiss or a murmured reassurance, his voice low and soothing as he told me how beautiful I was. "You’re so incredible, Y/N," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. "I love you more than anything, every single part of you." He held me close, his movements steady and deliberate, pausing every so often to press a lingering kiss to my shoulder or forehead.

"You’re perfect," he murmured, his hands cradling my face as he met my gaze, his sincerity shining through. "I’ll spend my whole life making sure you know that." With each press of his lips to my skin, he repeated his praises, grounding me in his love and unwavering devotion.

I could feel his hands, strong but tender, guiding me through it, and his eyes never left mine. When I moaned, it wasn't out of desperation, but from the depth of how much he made me feel seen, loved, and cared for.

He shifted slightly, still holding my gaze as he continued, but his touch remained soft, as though every movement was a promise. His hand moved from my cheek to my hair, gently tugging it back from my face as he leaned in and kissed me again, his lips soft and slow against mine.

"You’re perfect," he whispered between kisses, his breath warm against my skin.

I could feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming sense of love and tenderness he was showing me. His touch, his words, they all assured me that I wasn’t just loved, I was adored in every way possible.

His gentle caresses, the way he touched my cheek, every soft whisper between us — it was a constant reminder that I didn’t have to be anyone else. I didn’t have to hide or be ashamed. I was enough just as I was.

When we came together, it was slow and intimate, his movements careful and gentle, his hips meeting mine in a steady rhythm that felt like a conversation without words.

Afterward, Dave didn’t let me go. He wrapped me in his arms, pulling the blankets over us, his fingers idly running through my hair, smoothing it back from my forehead. It was such a small thing, but it made my heart swell, knowing he was so thoughtful in these moments.

“Are you good?” he asked, his voice soft and warm, the concern still lingering in his tone.

I nodded, trying to smile, but my voice gave me away. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He studied my face for a second, his brow furrowing slightly as if he could tell I wasn’t being entirely honest. He gave me a small squeeze and brushed a lock of hair from my cheek.

“You sure?” he asked again, his eyes searching mine, wanting to make sure I felt okay.

I hesitated, then quietly added, “Actually... could you just hold me for a bit?”

His expression softened, and without a second thought, he pulled me closer, wrapping me tightly in his arms. His warmth was comforting, and I buried my face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. His hands stroked my back slowly, tracing small circles as if to say, I’ve got you, you’re safe.

“You’ve got me,” he murmured, as if reminding me. “Always.”

I sighed into him, finally feeling a sense of peace wash over me. The quiet intimacy of being held, of just existing in this moment with him, made me feel cared for in a way that words couldn’t quite capture.

His fingers continued to run through my hair, and I felt his lips press softly to the top of my head. “You know, I think this is my favorite place to be,” he whispered, his voice muffled against my hair. “Right here with you.”

A small laugh bubbled out of me, my chest still tender from the emotions of the night. “You’re a dork,” I whispered, but it was with a smile.

He chuckled, tightening his hold for a second before settling back into the rhythm of his gentle touch. “Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

“I guess you are,” I said, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the blankets or the heat of the room.

We lay there, his hands never stopping their soothing motions. It wasn’t the kind of silence that felt empty, but the kind that was full of love, trust, and the quiet understanding that we didn’t need words to feel connected.

When I finally felt myself drifting, my breath slowing and my muscles relaxing in his arms, he whispered once more, his voice barely audible. “I love you so much, Y/N. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t,” I whispered back, my eyelids heavy as I let sleep take me.

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