Dsmp x reader smut

Home coming

Credits to The_Drowsy_Captain

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You hadn't seen Philza all morning. Honestly, you hadn't noticed until one of the wolves had walked up to you and nudged your leg, drawing your attention to the fact that they had yet to be fed.

"No one feed you guys today?" you ask while checking their bowls. The wolf whines at you. "Alright, I'll go get some food."

It had been really quiet with Technoblade gone. Honestly, it had been too quiet for your tastes. Sure you still went out for supplies, but it wasn't the same without the hulking piglin-hybrid baring his fangs. It had been almost three months, it was just a countdown now for Philza to read the will. To follow the instructions left for the syndicate. You dreaded what it might say, worrying constantly, even as you poured the meat cubes into the wolf bowls. You stared for a moment at your bloody hands and a shiver ran down your spine at what he might've found. At why he hasn't found his way back by himself.

The sound of snow crunching under heavy boots alerts you. You don't bother turning around, simply wiping your hands off. It was either Philza or Ranboo, both of which would've called out if they needed you. Probably too busy gathering supplies or information. Then large hands wrap around your waist, a heavy frame pressed against your back with soft fur tickling your neck. You freeze, your heart hammering in your chest.

"Techno?" you ask apprehensively, wondering if you'd fallen asleep or eaten something wrong.

"Miss me?" a deep voice purs in your ear. You can feel sharp fangs brush against your skin.

You relax backwards into him, resting your hands over his. He stumbles a bit and you straighten up, turning around in his hold. He looks tired, far worse for wear with his fur shaggy and slightly patchy. There's a hint of grime and blood on him and his crown's tilted on his head. A keen eye also notices him favouring one of his legs.

"Does Phil know you're back?" you whisper, lifting a gloved hand before realizing that it was still stained with blood. You tug it off to press your fingers into the familiar fur of his jaw, stroking your thumb back and forth.

"Yeah. I was really beginning to think both of you had forgotten how to read," he chuckles, refusing to move his hands from around your waist.

"You said three months," you remind him.

"So Phil has told me," he mutters. You're about to question what he means before he rests his head in the crook of your neck.

"We should get you cleaned up."

"A shower would be nice," he agrees.

Getting into the house is hard on your own with the stairs and ladders, however, getting into the house while trying to make sure a massive piglin didn't fall over was another story. It took quiet a bit of maneuvering to find your way to your room, and a decent bit more before Technobalde finally stumbled his way into the shower.

"You're sure you don't need my help?" you double-check, taking his cloak for him. The last piece of clothing he's wearing. Leaving him bare to the world. You feel the blush start in your cheeks as you force yourself to continue to meet his gaze.

"I'll be fine," he grunts, slowly closing the door.

"Call me if you fall," you tease, giving him a gentle smile as the door clicks shut.

You find your way back to the room, putting old clothes into the laundry hamper to be cleaned and stitched, and taking out new clothes for when he gets out. You also remove your jacket and armour, unsure of his plans for the rest of the day. You could always put them back on, you tell yourself. You're not sure what he went through and you're not going to pressure him into something. If he wants your company, then he'll have it. If he wants to be left alone, then he can have that too.

You're leaning over the bed to fix the sheets - at some point, you'd decided that you should probably change them - when slightly damp fur presses against your back, large hands dragging down your sides and caging you between him at the bed. Something hard and familiar presses against your lower back as he drags his lips down the curve of your neck, trying to map out every dip and curve. Gods, you'd missed this. The feeling of being wanted. Of being needed.

"Something you need?" you hum, content to feel his hands on you for the rest of your life.

"You," he growls against your shoulder blade, pushing your shirt up with one hand and your pants down with the other.

You grin, bowing down into the sheets and idly helping him push your pants down and your legs apart. He kisses all the way down your spine, nipping at your skin as he toys with your sex. His breath is heavy and low against your skin as he leans over you and grabs the small bottle from a nearby draw. Your squirm your hips back against his hand as the pad of his finger pushes into you, slowly working you open.

"Gods - hurry up," you whine, wiggling your hips back against his hand as he works in a second finger, scissoring them apart.

"In a moment," he mutters, pushing in a third.

A moment seems to last forever - they all usually do with him - yet you're rewarded for patience as he draws his fingers out of you, shuffling behind you before eclipsing your back again. You love the way he covers you almost entirely, shielding you from everything around you. If anyone were to walk in on the two of you they'd get a perfect view between your legs but otherwise, you'd be unnoticeable.

A wanton noise escapes your lips as he teases the head of his member against your entrance, toying with you. You roll your hips back against him, trying to coax him into you without begging. Technically you were begging, but at least it wasn't verbally. Even though you very much would love to beg him verbally after spending three months alone. Thankfully, he doesn't make you wait too long, pushing his hips slowly against yours. Large hands grip your waist, sure to leave bruises, but you'd sacrifice a little soreness tomorrow to feel him rock you into the bed.

"Fuck - I missed you," you choke out, gripping the sheets above your head.

"I missed you too. Dream is really fucking annoying," he grunts, reaching up and wrapping his hand over the top of yours.

You laugh, looking back at him over your shoulder.
"Really? You're going to talk about Dream right now?"

"Nah, passing thought," he apologizes, pressing his lips against yours.

You moan into the kiss, allowing him to pull out and turn you onto your back. Your hands stay pinned firmly above your head in one of his as he drags his free hand up and down your chest. Your shirt's a mess and your pants are definitely going to need to be cleaned later, but you couldn't care less as he kisses you like a man starved. His thrusts are steady and precise, focusing on both of your needs despite the desperate stutter for a quicker pace every once and a while. In this position, his knot hits against you with every thrust to remind you of one of the more subtle details that set him apart from others.

In a brief pause for air, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer, whispering against his jaw:
"Finish in me."

It always has the desired reaction. His pace quickens and becomes more erratic, trying to chase the sensation to fulfill your plea. His hand stutters on your sex, but you could care less, the sensation of his thrusts enough to draw you closer and closer to completion. You're given very slight warning - no more than a growl - before he brings your bodies flush together, his knot pressing into you. You gasp, finding completion in the way he grinds inside of you against the bundle of sensitive nerves.

"I missed you so much," he growls against your neck, wrapping his hand around your waist as his member twitches inside of you, spunk filling you.

"Next time, try not to go to prison," you joke, grinning into the soft fur of his neck.

"Seems to be something hard to avoid, but I'll try - I make no promises though."

"At least you'll try."