â I'm Brazilian and I go by she/her! You can call me anything you want, I'm really into Megadeth, The Beatles, Hole, Chappell Roan, Beabadoobee, Metallica, Guns N' Roses, and more. I love fashion, photography, and all types of art, tbh. I really love history, reading all kinds of books, especially biographies of my favorite figures. I like to crochet in my free time, and my favorite movies are Kill Bill I and II. I love Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, Attack on Titan, Stranger Things... well, I think that's enough to know me!
What you're going to find here...
â Cool artists
â Things about my favorite bands
â My obsessions
â Moodboards
â Photos of my favorite artists
â Memes
(I don't own any of the rights to the photos used on this blog, they were all found on Pinterest).
Ughhh Iâm such a bitch for soft Dave. Anything fluffy for him Iâm begging
"Sweet Carolina," - Dave Mustaine x ReaderË àŒ àłâïœĄË
A/N: This is my first ask so thank you!! I really appreciate the engagement and hope this encourages more people to request - I hope I fulfilled your request to your liking <3 BEST TO VIEW ON DARK MODE!! à»ê±àœČàŸàŒâșMASTERLIST
Ű àŹ SYNOPSIS: It's 1992, you're freshly postpartum and have never felt more unfamiliar in your body, whereas Dave has never felt more attracted to you. What ensues when he tries to make an advance and you simply can't take it? Denying a man who is completely foreign to being denied sex and attention? Well, nothing.
CONTENT WARNING: mentions of postpartum depression, fear of denying sex, self-pressure to have sex, comfort, marital resolutions FEM!POSTPARTUM!READER
It had been two months since you and Dave had had sex, and it was driving him mad.
He understood 'doctor's orders', and was more than happy to keep to the 6-week rule of thumb following the birth of your son; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you whilst your body was healing from giving him the best gift he had ever received. Understanding it didn't make it any less difficult to restrain himself, especially now that your figure had adapted accordingly to motherhood. Sure, you were softer now, but Dave couldn't find a single cell in his body that cared. He could find his very own cells imbedded in the DNA of the child your body had changed for the sake of nurturing, however. To him, your new figure was something to behold - you had tortured yourself to bear your child, to give him a son, and create your family.
You did that. Every new curve and squishier part of your body told him that like it was sacred scripture. He had seen figures like your newly adopted one in biblical statues he had seen on tour, ones he would marvel and itch to touch, just to gauge if it felt as holy as it seemed. But like said statues, it appeared as if your body was just too sacred and fragile to dirty with his lustful hands. Not to say he only looked at you with lust - far from, actually, but he was a physical man, and adored worshipping you in the most physical way possible.
Though, a physical man he was, a dumb one he was not.
He had seen how you twitched slightly when he would place a hand on your newly-rounded waist, how you would grimace at his filthy flirtations despite chuckling, how you grimaced at yourself. If your body was a reverent statue, your own gaze was the erosion that would end up making your statue crumble, and it broke Dave's heart. He saw the way you stopped changing in front of him when you went to have a bath, the way you stopped wearing your favourite clothes that delicately wrapped around your chest and hips, and most importantly, the way your eyes passed over yourself in a mirror. Disgust. Hatred. Discomfort. Dave had always heard of women feeling depressed after giving birth, which you definitely were in his eyes, but seeing you carry such disdain for a body he battled himself daily to not ravish for your own comfort, was killing him.
But it wasn't Dave's fault. Not in the slightest, you just couldnât recognize yourself nowadays.
Looking in the mirror felt like looking at a different person now; laying eyes on a body that used to be so uniform, unmarked and tight, and nowâŠsimply wasnât, felt so unreal. You wouldnât have changed giving birth to your son for anythingâhe was an angel on earth, but if you could have changed everything about yourself, you immediately would.
Your head just hadnât been able to regulate since giving birth, because as much as many people credited it as just ânaturalâ, which it was it, that didnât make it any less traumatic. Waking up felt like a chore, but with a wailing child you couldnât ignore it, and even moving felt like you werenât real. You felt like a ghost, mourning the body and mind of the woman you were before pregnancy. Whole. Young. Pristine.
It was impossible to feel sexy or open to the idea of sex when you felt like your feet werenât on the ground. Sex between you and your husband was all about connection, intimacy, and how could you create that connection when you didnât even feel connected to the body you were supposed to be opening up with?
It wasnât that Daveâs efforts went unnoticedâyou were depressed, not ignorant. He was really putting his all into reminding you that he thought you were beautiful and desirable. Gentle kisses in the mornings, whispering softly âyouâre so pretty, mamaâ in the quiet of the night when Justis finally settled, along with delicate and properly paced touches whenever he could. There was nothing about his presence that felt like pressure; he was patience.
But you couldnât help but feel suffocated by guilt and pressure on your own accord. Each compliment reminded you that your insecurity was unfounded, and each touch scolded you for being so closed off when he was waiting for you with open arms. He didnât mean to do thisâit wasnât him at all. However, Dave was ultimately a man who had never been deprived of sex in his life; since a young age, he had a way with women that made him irresistible, so why on earth were you of all people arrogant enough to say ânoâ?
Heâd never pressured or pushed you. Never would. He took ânoâ with grace, and hadnât even attempted to make love to you since Justisâ birth; he was simply waiting for your green light, and would keep waiting until it was safe to cross that road. It was your own personal demon that was crushing your fragile mind with this crazing guilt; you felt so irrational, but you still couldnât control it. It was a dangerous spiral that lead you further down the tunnel of self-hatred.
To make matters worse, you had no genuine time to concentrate on yourself to try and rectify the damage done to your self-esteem postpartum, as you had a whole life to look after now. Justis was a good baby, and didnât cause too much trouble, but a baby was still a baby, who depended solely on the care of his parents. That took time. All of your time.
But Dave wanted you to have a little break.
A day or so before your checkup with your doctor, he had suggested letting one of his sisters have your son for a night. Michelle had been particularly eager to see her baby brotherâs son, and even more to give you a well-deserved rest. Sheâd stopped by a few times in the last month, and each time she asked you poignantly, âAre you okay?â, frowning when you nodded and smiled absently.
The doctorâs appointment was smooth enough. Though, as selfish as it was, the only detail Dave paid attention to was, âyour body has healed in remarkable timing, Mrs Mustaine. Should you so wish, you and your husband could safely begin being intimate againâŠâ blah blah blah. That was the only thing he needed to hearâyes! You were good to go! He thought those very exclamations as his hazel eyes gazed off into space, but was smacked in the face with a strong palm of realism as he glanced at your face.
God, you looked so flat. It was as if all of the brightness and joy had been sucked out of your body and put into your son, leaving you dim and down. He just wanted you to feel goodânot just in yourself, but in general. He wanted you to wake up and be happy to face the day, to go to bed knowing you did a good job, to look at yourself and smile.
Heâd kill to see you smile again.
Whilst his aspirational idea of making a whole romantic evening with intentions of making love fizzled out, a new spark came up in his brain. Heâd propose the idea delicately, but in an atmosphere where there were no pressures like tempting candles or suggestive rose petals that made you feel like saying ânoâ or not being ready would defeat the whole purpose of the night.
Tonight was meant to be a break; whether or not sex was included in that equation was nobodyâs choice but yours. So he did just that.
Once the two of you were home, he concerned himself with making dinner. Now he wasnât a master chef by any means, but he was a master at making what you liked. He was never a fussy eater, but he knew how much you revered your favourites as opposed to anything else, so he dedicated himself with perfectionism.
The two of you idly chatted about whatnot, memories of the childless past came flicking by with warm laughter coating the kitchen. It was refreshing for you. To be able to talk and simply exist without being âmomâ was a relief you felt like you hadnât known in a lifetime, despite only having been a mom officially for a month. The weight of being a mom was impossibly heavy, and you were glad you had such a strong husband to help you carry it, along with his own baggage of being âdadâ without ever knowing what that weight was meant to feel like through his own father.
âFancy a spa night after this?â He asked you simply as he cut away at the steak heâd prepared for you bothâyou were too pale. He wanted some iron in you, and hopefully bring back the colour in your face that made him feel like spring had bloomed in his stomach.
The thought of having a nice relaxing night sounded good to you; sex was so far away from your head, you didnât even think about the possibility of him making a move when you nodded your head, muffling an âmhmâ as you chewed your asparagus.
âGood, you need it, my love. Just a nice bath, maybe one of those dumb face masks you like, and a movie? Yeah?â He concurred gently, placing his fork down just to wipe some of the gravy from the corner of your mouth. The touch was careful and hesitant, letting you accept it before fully committing to it.
His patience was something you truly admired, and much like the warm bath he would go on to run for you, would fill you with warmth from head to toe.
He didnât get in with you, he just sat on the edge of the bath, letting you sink into the warm water and bubbles that acted as a censor for your naked body. He washed your hair, the feeling of his calloused fingers gently massaging your scalp relieving some of the tension sitting beneath your skin - mentally and physically.
Nothing felt rushed, nothing felt sexual. It was all very chaste; every kiss to your head, every soft caress of your shoulder, every little compliment and âmy pretty womanâ that slipped from his lipsâevery aspect of it was pure. But you werenât dumb enough to think that this felt completely natural. Prior to giving birth, your sex drive was just as high as Dave; any moment as quiet and intimate as this would always lead to romantic lovemaking, and it was that same routine that felt like a sandbag on your shoulders, forcing you to do the training circuit that was soldiering through sex.
The worry chipped away at your mind the whole night, the more intimate (not more sexual) it became. Every time he glanced over your figure made you fear the moment he would try and initiate something, because you knew you werenât ready. You feared it because you werenât, not because he was forceful, and feeling unready didnât feel normal. Before, you were completely eager at every advance he made, sometimes even being more intent than he was; sex was great, especially with Dave, but now for some strange reason it felt terrifying.
All of these emotions came to a pinnacle when you got out of the bath.
You stepped out onto the bath-mat cautiously, immediately reaching for a towel; Dave already had it in his hands. âPlease, baby, let me dry you off,â he insisted delicately, pressing a kiss to your hair as your hands fell by your naked sides. You couldnât remember ever being comfortably naked in front of Dave postpartumâwhy? You didnât know. It wasnât as if his affection had slowed down and indicated any depletion of attraction after all.
But irrational fear was fear all the same. You tried to just shut up and let the nice thing be, however, as Dave carefully went about rubbing your body down with the towel. This was when he thought the time was right.
He gently rubbed your back down, noticing how it carried a little more squish at the bottom, which made sense as your ass had gotten so much bigger! Once heâd dried it off, he pressed his bare chest against it, and dipped his head to place slow, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder. It was like marking a constellation! All the while, his hands took the towel to dry down your thighs. The atmosphere felt thick; not with force, but with a man who was holding himself back so much for you.
âThis okay, sweetheart?â He mumbled lovingly against your neck, his tone tender and gentle.
You wanted to say âyesâ and go on to have a great night, you knew you would have under any other circumstance, so why did you feel like you wanted to cry at the thought of it now? Your entire body had frozen, and Dave could feel you shaking, but had assumed you were just a bit chilly coming out of the bath.
âBaby?â He asked again, as you hadnât answered and were just staring off into space whilst your foot tapped in place. He sighed when he saw that vacant gaze of yours. You were just so far away from him, and he knew not to berate you for the distanceâhe just needed to bring you back. Taking your face in his large hand, he softly turned it to the side where his own face rest, âCome back to me, honey. Whateverâs on your mind I wanna hear it,â he insisted before kissing lightly across your cheek.
That completely broke youâif that statue was still standing before, it had absolutely crumbled in that moment. He was so good! So caring and patient, everything a woman needed to feel secure, but you just couldnât! Why? You didnât understand yourself and you hated it.
You could feel the heat of your frustration roll down your face as sobs forced their way from your lips. You hadnât meant to get so upset, but the thought of saying ânoâ was equally as terrifying as saying âyesâ. Covering your face with your hands, you bawled inconsolably, âIâm sorry.â You felt like he should be offended for such a reaction to a romantic gesture.
But Dave didnât bat an eyelid. He had considered the different reactions he might have gotten from you tonight, and surprisingly, this was one of them anyways. He could see that you felt removed from yourself, and how that frustrated you, so waterworks were expected sooner or later.
He simply told you, âSorry for what? Baby, you got nothing to be sorry for,â as he took you in his strong arms, making you face his chest now. âIâm a grown man. I can take it if my wife doesnât wanna have sex with me just yet,â his assurances sounded genuine as his one hand carefully stroked your bare back, whilst the other cradled your head.
He insisted tenderly when he felt your head shake against him, âWe do this at your pace, sweetheart. I just thought itâd be worth a shot, and it was, cause I know youâre still not ready for it now. Itâs fine. Youâre fine.â Leaning his head over the top of yours, he marked your hair in delicate and soothing kisses, like a balm in hopes of soothing your insecurity.
âIâm sorry- I just canât do it.â You sobbed against his warm skin, feeling safe enough in his armsâcompletely naked and vulnerable, to be honest about how you felt. âI feel so gross, and I canât recognise myself.â
Hearing you sob your eyes out shattered every part of the strong, seemingly immovable, man. Whilst he was a real father now, he knew what it was like to have a baby before Justis came along. You were his baby. Someone to protect and care for, to calm down when they cried uncontrollably, to make sure they were safe and comfortable.
âSh, sh, babygirl, youâre fine. You donât gotta explain it if you donât want to,â his tone was smooth and comfortingâlike the first sip of a hot chocolate, as he took a robe down from its hook and wrapped it around your body. âJust come to bed we can talk about it.â
Not that you had a choice in coming to bed, as he scooped up your still-sobbing body, holding you safely in his arms as he walked you into your bedroom. He let you cry into his shoulder without question, rubbing your back gently before laying you down on it against the plush mattress.
He didnât settle on top of you like he usually wouldâthatâd be too much and he knew it, so he just opened the covers and wiggled in beside you, pulling you against his chest. Your sobs had turned into shivering little hiccups, and the tears came less frequently as his thumb caught most of them.
You couldnât find it in yourself to say much else than what you had. It felt so humiliating to be so vulnerable, even with your husband who had seen you in the worst states possible, notably childbirth. Also, you simply couldnât find the words you needed for this kind of thing.
Dave did though.
His soothing voice quelled your little hiccups as he stroked his fingers lightly down your back through the robe, the other hand playing with your hair softly. âIâm fine not having sex, baby, please trust that. You never have to make yourself want something. But for what itâs worth? This is the most beautiful Iâve ever seen you.â
âYou donât mean that.â You scoffed stubbornly, unable to fathom how a man who used to be surrounded by thin, perfect groupies could possibly prefer what your body was now.
He corrected you immediately, tone firm but not stern, âI do. Every word. You fought hard as balls to give birth to my son, make me a dad, and this body shows every single effort of that. I donât care if youâre a little bigger, you think you can give birth to that 9lbs monster and be an XS after?â He mused lightly at the end. You chuckled.
Really chuckled. The sound, genuine and lively unlike the empty ones you would let out before, warmed his heart so much he thought he would start steaming at one point or another. Little things like that reminded him that his wife was still the same woman; mentally you werenât quite there yet, but deep down, nothing had changed who you were at your core.
âMissed that. I love your laugh.â He chuckled himself as his hazel eyes scanned over your face, now looking back up at him with a smile. Your face was so pretty, but it was an unmatched beauty when it wore a smile.
âYouâre such a sap,â you teased, feeling slightly more playful and at ease now that the fear of letting him down was a burden heâd taken off of your weary back. Dave was a sap; he was tender and emotional, nor did he particularly care to hide that fact. You were his everything, and if anyone had a thing to say about how soft and gentle he was with you could shove it.
He cupped your face in his hand that had since stopped stroking your back, pressing kiss after kiss from your forehead to your lips. Whispering gently, âI know,â against the plushness before kissing you as softly as a man who only knew anger and rebellion could. You were peace for him, and he wanted to be that for you.
You couldnât help but sink into the kiss, finally allowing yourself the chance to feel a little bit of normality by giving your husband a proper kissânot just a fleeting peck. His words had soothed, and his touch had calmed, and you felt a whole lot more like you now.
Feeling you melt into him wasnât an invitation in Daveâs eyes, not at all, but it was a sign that you were content how it was, so he kept it that way. The kiss was slow and delicate, an unspoken reminder that he would remain this slow as long as you needed.
Heâd always be there, no matter what. His wife was a spectrum of colour that reflected so beautifully in his mind, and blue was very much apart of that spectrumâbaby blues or not, you were his wife, the mother of his child, and the only place of sanctity in his life.
All he wanted was to make you feel a fraction of what you made him feel, and knowing you had him at your side, no matter what, for however long you needed, set your mind at ease. Your problems werenât going to be solved in one night, but having even the smallest weight removed still made things lighter.
âI love you, Dave.â You mumbled against his lips, the kiss a little more intense, but with an intensity to comfort rather than arouse.
He had no problem matching that notion, murmuring with reverence, âI love you more, baby, more than anything. Every inch of you.â
It's really strange to change my blog's identity... it's like... hey... don't forget me i'm still mariskiii....... hey........... i just changed the pfp................. hello...
