#technoblade x reader

Introducing: the Technoverse

I used this as an excuse to practice male anatomy

Swallow Your Affections Technoblade belongs to @jeeblie

Snowbleed Technoblade belongs to @zombeykat

Only When You Look At Me Technoblade belongs to @uunoia

oh boy uhh well it's no secret Technoblade despises children. They're loud, annoying, cringe, messy, unpredictable, constantly need teaching and cry when you tell them no. 

He's spent his life around warriors, blood, and strategy. Babies do not fit neatly into those categories. And Techno might have been able to outrun his more primal, piglin instincs for the majority of his life, but now? When you ask him one faithful night if he wants to have a baby? With you?? … he's a little conflicted, but not for the reason you may think.

"Techno... you think... you ever wanna have children?"

Because his mind doesn’t jump to babies or little feet running across the floor, his mind jumps to you. Childbirth, pain, blood, risk… possibly even death. Your poor body breaking itself open to bring something new into the world. To have babies means you take on all the physical responsibilities, for nine whole months at that, even after the child's born. And all he gets is the easy, fun, few-minute part and suddenly the question feels enormous. 

He looks to you slowly. “…That would hurt you.” It’s the first thing he says. Don't get it wrong, it's not a yes or no, he just fears for you.

He's killed more people than he can count, his fluency in violence remains undettered, but if anything were to happen to you? Or the baby? It'd break him and ruin him forever. 

Not only that but to raise a child means patience, gentleness, teaching, protecting something that could break if you hold it wrong. And sometimes, in the quiet parts of his mind, Techno thinks: what kind of father could the blood god's champion be?

The voices however have a COMPLETLY diffrent reaction, immediately kick the door down in his mind.

FULFILL HER REQUEST!! SHE CHOSE US!! SHE WANTS YOUR BLOOD!! SHE WANTS YOUR BABIES!! SHE WANTS YOUR SEED!! BLOOD GOD THIS IS THE HIGHEST HONOR!!

Techno pinches the bridge of his nose. “Chat… please.”

But they’re not stopping.

YOU HAVE SLAUGHTERED KINGS AND TOPPLED NATIONS AND NOW YOU HESITATE AT THIS?? THE FUTURE OF THE BLOODLINE!! MAKE BABIES. MAKE BABIES. MAKE BABIES.

Meanwhile you just sit there waiting for his answer.

Techno clears his throat awkwardly. “…We can… discuss it.” It sounds so careful because Techno isn't one to promise things lightly.

And you don't push him, you just smile that calm, patient smile of yours, the one that never rushes him. “Of course,” you say softly. “I love you Tech, no matter what.” Like you'll trust his answer is the right one, and that kind of patience always disarms him.

Techno grunts quietly, not dismissive but overwhelmed in that very Techno way where emotions show up and he doesn’t quite know what to do with them.

So he does the only thing that feels natural. He reaches out, big hand resting behind your head, and gently pulls you into a half hug, his hold warm and solid. Your shoulder tucked against his chest while his arm rests around you, and after a moment he presses a quiet kiss to the top of your hair and rubs your shoulder.

So for months after that interaction Techno thinks about it. He weighs the idea the way he weighs war strategies, turning it over in his mind while doing housework, while feeding the wolves, while watching you read by the fire.

Children.

The word alone makes him frown. Sticky little creatures, loud, chaotic, always asking why. But every time he dismisses the idea, his mind drifts back to the same thing:

You.

The way you said it.

'I love you.'

Like it was obvious, like loving him wasn’t some reckless gamble.

Eventually he brings it up to Phil. He's leaning back in a chair while Techno stands nearby sharpening his blade.

The question just slips out. “…Were you scared…?”

Phil glances over. “Of what?”

Techno hesitates.“…When you had Wilbur.”

Phil smiles immediately, knowing. “Ah man,” he says easily. “Terrified.”

Techno frowns. “…You don’t seem the type.”

Phil chuckles. “Oh well, can't all be perfect mate. No matter how hard you bloody try!” And then Phil says something that sticks in Techno’s mind forever since. “But often times I find it's usually the one's who're the most scared to be parents that end up being the best…”

That same night… Techno comes to an agreement with you over dinner to have a child. 

…

Anyways, Philza knows Techno's eye for reading. If Techno's curious, he reads about it, it's how Techno learns anything. So Phil absolutely lends him all the books he could ever need. Pregnancy guides, parenting advice, medical diagrams, even old kid ones from when Wilbur and Tommy were little for the baby.

Techno studies every page, every night. He highlights sections, writes notes in the margins, the same way he studies historical texts. 

And then weeks pass…Then months… many, many months of trying and trying and… nothing.

At first Techno stays relatively calm. It makes sense, logically that well… these things take time. So he continues reading the books. He knows about the cycles, the odds, the biology. He treats it like any other system. Observe, learn, adjust.

Then these small anxious thoughts creep in.

Did he misunderstand something? Was there a part of the process he missed? He's part piglin and you're all human… Could a child even be conceived at all?? Do you… need something specific?? Or is it something wrong with him??

You’ll catch him rereading the same page three times, going back over sections he already memorized. Cross-referencing like he’s solving a problem that should have already been solved.

The voices start picking at it too.

THIS SHOULD HAVE WORKED!! IT'S BEEN MONTHS!! THE TIMING WAS CORRECT!! ARE WE DEFECTIVE??

Techno shuts the book a little harder than necessary. “…We are not defective.” But the thought lingers anyway.

He then starts watching you more closely, not in a creepy way, just careful. He checks if you're tired, if you're eating enough, if you seem stressed because in his mind, if something’s wrong, it’s his responsibility to fix it.

At one point he almost brings it up. “…Do you think we should—” Then stops, because he doesn’t want to worry you. So instead poor Techno just tries harder.

He absolutely considers asking Phil. Stares at a blank sheet of paper, inked quill in hand, like it might leave. Then stops, because how do you even phrase that? ‘Hey Phil, hypothetically, if reproduction isn’t working at the expected rate…’

No.

He slides the paper aside, opens another book.

Then one morning, it all happened so unexpectedly. He's downstairs, doing something mundane like sharpening a blade, or fixing a hinge, something normal.

And then he hears your soft footsteps coming down the ladder. 

Before he can even turn fully you're already there throwing your arms around him, kissing him like you can’t hold it in.

“Tech—TECH—!! I’m pregnant!”

Techno freezes completely like time just cut out for a sec. The words don't land right away, they hover and echo in his head. He looks at you like he's checking if this is real. Then slowly, carefully, his hands come to your waist.

“…are you sure…?” His voice is low, almost disbelieving.

You're nodding, squealing, kissing his cheek. “Yes, yes!! Oh my god!!” 

Relief just breaks open in his heart, warm and sudden and overwhelming. Like he’s been holding his breath for months without realizing it. And before he can think he picks you up effortlessly in his arms, like you weight nothing. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and he just holds you up there, solid and secure.

And for once, Technoblade doesn’t hold back, and he smiles, ACTUALLY smiles, a real one!! Soft and wide and a little disbelieving. He presses his forehead to yours first and kisses you again and again like he needs to make sure you're real, that this is real.

The voices cheer.

IT WORKED!! SHE CARRIES LIFE!! SHE CARRIES OUR BLOOD!! WE ARE NOT DEFECTIVE!!

Techno huffs out a quiet laugh against your lips. “…Told you.”

He doesn’t put you down right away, he just stands there holding you like you're something precious he almost lost without ever having.

His hands tighten just slightly at your back, grounding and protective, and when he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes your cheek. Still a little stunned, still a little in awe.

“…Alright.”

For the first time in a sea of quiet anxiety, he feels joy. Quiet, deep, undeniable joy settling into his chest like something that was always meant to be there.

And if you thought Techno was thoughtful and attentive before pregnancy, WHILE you're pregnant is a whole different story.

Because here’s the thing about piglin culture...

Piglins are born in the nether, a place so cruel and unforgiving anything soft or ungaurded rarely survives. Life does not come easy there, so piglins, native to the nether, genuinely believe woman are divine goddesses, as they are the only ones capable of giving life. Women are the only reason male piglins exist at all, and if every male piglin didn't meet their standards they'd all die out. They're full aware of the fact that without the women, they're nothing and ultimately lack purpose. 

So basically in piglin society, the women are the only ones who have any say in who gets to breed, and not every male is chosen, not even most. Their standards are notoriously high as they priorities strength, survival, worth, everything is measured. Because to be chosen is not just to mate, it is to be trusted to father the next generation, and such a priveldge is not handed out to just any idiot.

So male piglins grow up knowing this. You either earn it, or you don’t get it at all.

And you? You've basically chosen Techno, like he's worthy of mating. You asked Techno first for children, It means you trust his blood, his strength, his future, it means you believe the world should have more of him in it... and that thought almost hurts.

Before your pregnancy, even before you at all, this more primal-piglin side of Techno was one that was easily ignored and laid dormant inside of him for a long time, he honestly thought he'd die childless. 

But now when you're pregnant? He's become completely and utterly devoted to you.

You don’t ask for things, they’re already done. You don’t reach for things, they’re already in your hands. You shift slightly in your seat, he’s already looking over. You don’t even stand up without him noticing. 

“…What do you need.” It's all immediate.

Then comes the gold.

Every week of your pregnancy, Techno forges you a new gift made out of gold by hand. The first piece is simple, a thin gold bracelet and he hands it to you like it’s nothing.

“…Made this.”

And then the next week he gives you a necklace, the week after a pair of earings, then something more intricate, something with tiny carved details, maybe patterns that resemble your heartbeat, maybe symbols of protection, maybe even small subtle nods to piglin tradition. Marks that mean mine in the softest, most reverent way.

By the time months pass, you have an entire collection. Each piece more beautiful than the last, each one a quiet declaration that you're precious, honored and protected.

The voices are absolutely chanting every time he finishes one.

GOLD FOR THE MOTHER!! ADORN HER!! SHOW DEVOTION!!

Don't even get started on the chores. Techno does everything without question.

The cooking is more than handled (his food's delicious), the cleaning's already done, chopping wood, hunting, repairs, caring for the animals—you don’t even see him do it half the time it just all gets done miraculously by the time you get out of bed.

You try to help once, feeling bad he's been taking on all the housework by himself.

He gently takes whatever you’re holding out of your hands.

“…No.”

“It’s just a small—”

“No.”

End of discussion.

Sounds harsh but Techno would first get crushed by an anvil over the head a hundred times than have his pregnant wife do any kind of work.

And don't even mention any sort of cravings to him, cause he'd treat the most simple craving into an emergency supply mission.

“Ugh Techno… I kind of want strawberries.”

There are no strawberries nearby. There haven’t been strawberries within twenty miles since forever.

Then Technoblade disappears, and four hours later... he returns with strawberries. He will not explain where he got them. He will not acknowledge the mud on his cloak. He simply sets them on the table like it was inevitable.

“Eat.”

Or later when you complain you're feet are cold, you literally only mentioned it one time. Once!!

The next day Techno quietly hands you a pair of thick hand-sewn wool socks. They’re soft, warm, clearly made by his massive hands doing extremely careful stitching.

"These are really nice," you then raise an eyebrow. “…Did you make these?”

“…Nahh,” too quick. “Some nerd probably did.”

You catch him later fixing a tiny stitch with a needle the size of a toothpick in his giant fingers. Because yes Piglin culture takes pregnancy this seriously, every little thing he does would put a bare-minimum-man into a coma. So now every night he kneels beside the bed and helps pull the socks onto your feet like it’s some sacred ritual.

And tonights just that. You lay down for bed and Techno's sat on the edge of the mattress. He gently lifts your foot into his hands and pulls the warm socks on. One foot, then the other. Then he tucks the blankets around you like you're something fragile and precious.

Before he lays down he always rests a hand over your stomach, which has now grown more obvious nearing your thrid trimester.

Just for a moment he's checking, gaurding, feeling the faint movements beneath.

And every single time the voices scream praises.

A TINY HEARTBEAT!! SHE GROWS A FEIRCE WARRIOR!! THE BLOOD CHILD!! OUR HEIR!!

Meanwhile Techno just lays there beside you, calm as ever.

But his hand never leaves your belly.

how about some kissing headcannons with techno? First kiss, morning kisses, hello/goodbye kisses, etc?

ty king/queen

Kissing Headcanons — DSMP!Technoblade

First Kiss

Techno is not smooth. At all.

He thinks he’s planning the perfect moment — quiet night, a warm fire, maybe he even remembers to brew tea — but when the moment actually comes, he’s just staring at you like:“So uh. I’ve been thinking about kissing you.”

He says it incredibly serious. Like it's a battle strategy.

You laugh, and he short-circuits.

You end up leaning in first — slow, gentle, a brush of lips.

When you pull away, his cheeks are pink, eyes wide, tail slightly wagging (if we’re going slightly SBI-lore adjacent).

He whispers:“...That was nice. We should do that again.” voice a little shaky but happy.

Morning Kisses

Morning Techno is a sleep monster.

He rolls over and drapes himself over you like a weighted blanket that smells like pine smoke.

Your first kiss of the day is usually:

half on your cheek

half on your eyebrow

because he is not awake yet

He grumbles something like:“mrph… be still… warm…” and refuses to let you get up.

If you kiss his forehead, he makes a very soft content grunt. (You have discovered his off-switch.)

Hello / Goodbye Kisses

Pairing : Technoblade x reader

Content (MDNI!) : fem!reader, Techno is a munch (again), oral (f receiving), vàginal sèx, hair pulling, body worship

Word count : 2.4k (I am a whore for this man)

A/N : fan art by Ekaterina Simoguk on artstation. This is heavily inspired by this post by @ushiimushiio. The way I write the Voices is also heavily inspired by @uunoia's fanfic OWYLAM.

NO- NO ! YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG !!

HIT FROM A DIFFERENT ANGLE, YOU IDIOT !!

OH MY GOD, THERE'S A DENT !!!

Techno sighed, feeling a headache start to form, a small throb behind his eyes.

"Chat, there's no-" 

Fuck. There was a dent.

Stronger Than You Think | c!Technoblade x Reader Oneshot

It started with the chest.

You’d barely opened the cabin door when you nearly walked right into Techno, who was hefting an entire storage chest in his arms like it was a loaf of bread.

He gave you a quick nod, muttered “morning,” and casually set it down on the table like he hadn’t just carried fifty stacks of cobblestone in one hand.

You blinked. “Uh… need help with that?”

He waved you off, too fast. “Nah, light work.”

You frowned, suspicious. “You sure you don’t want me to help?”

He shifted the chest back in his grip, muscles flexing. “Pfft. Nah. I could carry three of these.”

You gave him a long look, then turned back into the cabin. The second you stepped inside, you heard a loud CLUNK and a very quiet, breathless “…ow.”

At first, you chalked it up to Technoblade being… well, Technoblade. He was big, he was strong, and he wasn’t shy about it. But then it happened again. And again.

Every time you entered the room, suddenly he had something to lift.

You’d walk in, and he’d be hauling anvils. You’d come around the corner, and there he was, lugging entire stacks of logs across the yard. Always with that same forced nonchalance, like it was nothing.

“Oh, hey,” he’d say, too casually, straining just slightly as he carried a barrel full of iron. “Didn’t see you there.”

Or, “Yeah, no big deal,” as he dropped a mountain of stone bricks on the floor, panting only once you were out of sight.

You couldn’t help but wonder. Was he really just that obsessed with efficiency? Or was he—

No. That would be ridiculous.

…Wouldn’t it?

The answer came one afternoon when you doubled back into the storage shed after forgetting your tools.

Inside, Techno was bent over a stack of anvils, red-faced, arms trembling as he tried to shuffle them into position. A low grunt slipped out, followed by a muttered curse under his breath. He was so focused that he didn’t notice you until you cleared your throat.

He froze. Slowly—painfully slowly—he turned his head.

You crossed your arms. “It’s almost like you’re doing it on purpose.”

For once, the great, composed Technoblade actually stuttered. “Wh—what? Nah. Nah, this is… training. Yeah. Arm day.” He gave the anvils a weak pat, like they were loyal companions. “Gotta… keep the routine, y’know.”

You raised a brow. “Funny. I’ve only ever seen you train when I’m in the room.”

That earned you a sharp exhale through his nose, the closest thing he had to a nervous laugh. “Coincidence. Complete coincidence.”

“Mm-hm.” You leaned against the doorway, enjoying how the tips of his ears were turning pink. “Next thing I know, you’ll be hauling the entire cabin on your back.”

He smirked faintly, trying to reclaim some ground. “Don’t tempt me. Could probably do it.”

“Sure you could,” you teased. “Right after you finish catching your breath.”

His eyes widened just a fraction, and you knew you had him. But instead of admitting defeat, he scooped up the nearest anvil, staggered two steps toward the wall, and dropped it with a loud clang. Then he brushed his hands off like he’d just solved all the world’s problems.

“See?” he said, feigning calm. “Easy.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. “But at least I’m consistent.”

Your grin widened. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say, big guy.”

This is from a chapter in OWYLAM by @uunoia GO CHECK IT OUT

Why is he so fine

Why is mc so fine