I JUST SAW REQUESTS CLOSED IM SO SORRY

I JUST SAW REQUESTS CLOSED IM SO SORRY

don't worry! i'll add your request to my list and start working on it soon :3

haiii, everyone!! i'm slowly working through the requests, i took a little break after buying bg3 (lol), but i will gradually finish them all! thank you for your patience and kind words <3 they're very encouraging!

anyways, here's my tav, she's a wood half-elf druid <33

Hi! It's me the one who said the thing about the bugs and skin I loved it and now I can't stop thinking about it in fact I'm thinking about it more

Idk why but now I can just imagine they just like scratching shit in general because I had this idea...lets pretend for a second that maybe they get to be collared too let's just pretend...because I can imagine them just aggressively scratching strades head because they "like watching the dandruff fall out"

I was scratching stuff and this came into my head

a/n: you are so interesting anon XD thank you for sharing your fun ideas with me. i hope you enjoy!

SCRATCHING THE SURFACE

{ strade x gn! reader }

part 1: BENEATH THE SKIN

word count: 760

warnings/tags: alcohol use, drunk strade, scratching, slight body worship/fascination, mentally ill reader, poetic descriptions of dandruff lol, kinda wholesome.

The evening air was heavy with the smell of beer and cigarettes, the flickering television light casting erratic shadows across the walls. Strade lounged beside you on the couch, shirtless and slightly inebriated, lazily holding a bottle of liquor. His usual sharp edge seemed dulled by the alcohol, his eyes half-closed as he watched the screen.

Despite the heavy bandages, the mangled skin of your forearm itched with a compulsive need that had never truly left. Strade’s attention was glued to a grainy action movie, allowing your mind a moment’s distraction in the warm, quiet room.

Your gaze drifted from the television to Strade’s exposed skin, illuminated by the screen's glow that highlighted the soft contours of his abdomen. Driven by curiosity and a relentless need to scratch, your hand moved almost involuntarily.

Initially, Strade didn’t react as your fingers made contact with his warm skin. His indifference encouraged you, and you began to trace your nails lightly across his stomach— a sensation vastly different from scratching your own scarred skin. His skin was smoother, warmer, and surprisingly responsive.

At the faint sensation, Strade's muscles twitched subtly, and a slight smirk formed on his lips as if amused by your audacity.

Emboldened, your fingers ventured further, tracing the lines that segmented his stomach. The scratching was gentle at first, but the familiar urge surged, compelling you to apply more pressure. Your nails pressed harder, leaving faint red marks that faded as quickly as they appeared.

Taking a deep swig of his beer, Strade finally turned to face you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Like what you feel?” he slurred, his breath heavy with the smell of alcohol.

You leaned closer and scratched his stomach again, the fine hairs tingling under your fingertips. "You're smoother than I imagined... like tracing patterns on silk," you whispered, your hand moving upward to trace the lines of his chest.

He hummed in response, his smirk widening as you felt the changing texture of his skin near his collarbone. You paused, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, in sync with the low, erratic hum of the television.

Then, almost naturally, your hand drifted to his head, fingers tangling in his hair. You began to scratch gently at his scalp, the initial softness giving way to a more firm, scraping motion. As you enjoyed the sensation of his coarse locks between your fingers, tiny flakes of dried skin began to drift down like bizarre, unseasonal snow onto the back cushion.

His eyes closed and his smirk smoothed into a contented smile, appreciating how your fingers worked through his hair. The change in his expression seemed to shift the atmosphere, the room growing quieter despite the ongoing drone of the television. Each scrape of your nails seemed to sink him deeper into relaxation, his body loosening against the soft back of the couch.

You continued to explore the texture of his scalp, noting the spots that made him lean into your touch, his head subtly pushing against your hand like a cat seeking affection. The intimacy of the moment felt almost surreal, a stark contrast to the usual chaos that defined your interactions. This gentler, quieter side of him was entirely new to you.

As your nails found the dry patches, you gently loosened more flakes of dandruff. There was something oddly satisfying about watching the tiny white particles drift down, catching the light before vanishing into the shadowy room. Each flake seemed to momentarily soothe the relentless squirming sensation beneath your skin.

Your hand moved of its own accord, scratching harder, deeper, to free more stubborn flakes trapped within the roots. The frantic scraping of your nails against his scalp grew louder, almost echoing in his ears. As you intensified your efforts, a cascade of dandruff dislodged from his hair, swirling in a miniature storm of white specks. These particles caught in the dim light, swirling erratically before settling silently around you, like ash from a snuffed candle.

Suddenly, Strade’s eyes snapped open, and his hand clamped around your wrist with drunken firmness. “Like that, do you?” he asked, his focus sharpened despite his inebriation. Despite the pain of his grip, your fingers twitched, driven by a gnawing, primal urge.

"I-I like like watching the dandruff fall..." You murmured, his gaze drilling into you, curious yet hazy from the alcohol.

“Alright. Go on then, just watch the claws, yeah?” He replied, his tone carrying a hint of amusement as he loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to continue.

strade reaction to mc telling him they’re pregnant

answered here!

Strade weight gain/body worship? Focusing on how big and squishy he is :P

a/n: heheh yess!!! i love big squishy guys <33

INDULGE YOURSELF

{ strade x f! reader }

word count: 1.0k

warnings/tags: NSFW, mild dubcon, weight gain, body worship, thigh riding, reader is a feeder (?), stockholm themes.

You kneel between Strade's legs, your hands trembling slightly as they trace the contours of his body. Throughout the months, you've become intimately familiar with every crevice of his home, every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet; yet, it is the transformation of Strade himself that captivates your attention.

His clothes, once snug and form-fitting, now strain against his larger frame. The seams of his shirt stretch over his abdomen, the buttons threatening to burst, and his pants hug his thighs, outlining the swell of his flesh. When he pins you down, he is heavier and more imposing, pressing into you with a force that leaves you breathless. The added bulk makes him harder to resist, your struggles futile against his newfound size.

As your palms press against his stomach, the soft, warm flesh yields under your touch, bouncing slightly as you release. You take a strange pride in knowing your cooking has contributed to his transformation, each meal adding to his mass. A shiver runs down your spine, settling into a warmth in your chest.

Strade watches you with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He shifts slightly, the movement causing his belly to jiggle, and you can't help but follow the motion with your gaze, entranced. You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his navel, your lips lingering against his skin. He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through you.

"How cute," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "All this extra weight is because of you, you know. Your cooking skills are to blame." His words are teasing, but there's an edge of truth in them.

You look up at him, your eyes wide and earnest. "I love it," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love how big you've gotten."

His laughter is louder this time, his hand coming down to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips. "How sweet, Liebling," he says, his tone mocking yet affectionate. "Tell me more."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to find the words to express the chaotic mix of emotions inside you. "I love how soft you are," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "How warm and... and squishy."

He hums in approval, his hand sliding down to rest on the back of your neck, guiding you closer. "Show me then," he commands softly. "Show me how much you love me."

You obey without hesitation, your hands roaming over his body, exploring every curve and fold. You press your lips against the rounded expanse of his stomach, kissing and nuzzling where faint stretch marks spiderweb across his skin. He groans as your tongue darts out to taste the saltiness of his sweat, tracing a path up to his chest. He's bigger here too, the flesh soft and pliant under your touch.

With a playful glint in his eyes, Strade shifts, forcing you to straddle his leg. Your hands explore again, gently squeezing his chest and feeling the hairs tickle your fingertips. As you press closer to him, your body melds with his as if you were two halves of the same whole. You instinctively grind your hips down on him, feeling the thick muscles against you.

"Go ahead. Ride my thigh." He grins, his rough hands finding your waist.

You comply eagerly, your breath hitching as you grind harder. The fabric of his pants is taut beneath you, the size of his leg apparent even through the layers of clothing, forcing your thighs apart just by straddling him. Strade's fingers dig into your flesh as he encourages your movements.

"I love how you fill up my hands," you breathe out, your voice tinged with awe. "Every part of you... so big, so strong."

His eyes darken with pleasure, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Is that so?" he replies, his voice a seductive purr. "You love feeling how much I've grown, how much I overwhelm you?"

You nod fervently, your hands squeezing the skin bulging over his waistline. "Yes, I love it. I love how heavy you are." The admission makes your cheeks flush; it's intoxicating, this feeling of being so completely consumed by him, of knowing you are the one who has helped make him the size he is now.

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberates through your entire being. "Good," he says, leaning close to your ear. "Beacause I love how pathetic you've become."

Despite the harshness of his words, you find yourself unable to resist him. Each rough thrust against his thigh sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a hunger that only he can satisfy. With every moan that escapes your lips, you give yourself over to him completely.

His hands slide up your back, pressing you even closer to him as you continue to move against him. His thigh is warm and solid beneath you, the muscles flexing as he shifts his position slightly, giving you a better angle. The friction between your core and his leg is maddening; a delicious torture that leaves you gasping for breath. You cling to him, your fingers gripping his broad shoulders as you ride him with increasing fervour.

As you tremble and mewl, Strade watches you with a dark, satisfied gaze. You can feel the softness of his belly pressing against you, the warmth of his skin seeping into your own.

"I-I love you," you whimper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He freezes for a moment, his grip tightening. "Do you now?" he laughs, amused. "How sweet."

You nod, burying your face into his soft chest, tears welling in your eyes. "Yes," you reply, your voice trembling. "I do."

There were days when you'd fought against him, screaming and crying, your spirit burning bright with defiance. Over time, your resistance crumbled, replaced by a dependence that terrified you. Strade has become your world, your tormentor and saviour wrapped into one monstrous figure.

Now, as you moan in his lap, his large body pressed against yours, you realize how far you've fallen. "I love you," you whisper again, your voice hardly audible.

His hand tightens on your hair, forcing your head back. "And I love what I've made of you. You've come a long way from that frightened girl I took months ago."

i love your headcanons and fics sm 🥹🥹🥹 thank you for your work!!!! I rarely meet comfort n nice people with such interesting tastes at the same time😌😌😌

btw don’t listen to whose people who blame u for things you write, they just don’t get it 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

oh wow thank you <3 i really appreciate this message. i am so happy you enjoy my work! thank you for reading :3

and don't worry, those people don't get to me. i know and appreciate the audience i write for :)