Some Very Pretty Tech Pics From My Camera Roll. Happy March 29th.... It's Been An Entire Year 😭 Hopefully

GOJOS COME BACK TONIGHT QUEEN?

GOJOS COME BACK TONIGHT

They are happy and going on adventures together

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my mental health has been restored only thanks to this scene

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Won the Break-Up (Tech x Reader)

This one shot does not contain spoilers for Season Two. Please do not discuss spoilers in reblogs/comments.

Notes: Tech thinks you're a catch. But so does your ex. Based on the new song "Lost The Breakup" by Maisie Peters. 79's, alcohol consumption, backhanded compliments and psychological warfare, The Return Of Kyle(TM)

This night at 79's would have been perfect. You were wearing your favorite dress, and the dance floor was crowded enough that you could dance like no one was watching. Not to mention someone else was paying for the drinks.

It would have been completely perfect...

...if it weren't for your ex.

He walked in with his new girlfriend and their little group of friends, and you rolled your eyes, ignoring them. You would not let their appearance ruin your night.

However, your ex had other ideas, and pushed and shoved his way through the crowd to stand in front of you, going so far as to wave his arm in front of your face when you tried your best to ignore him.

"Hey, it's been forever," Kyle smirked at you, hands casually in his pockets for that relaxed look.

"Hey," You nodded, breathless from dancing, "Never thought I'd see you here. Where's your girlfriend?" You couldn't help the venom in your voice as you tried not to throw a fit in public, but the douchebag had cheated on you. Civility had leaped out the window miles back.

He shrugged, "Eh, she's talking with her friends. I wanted to come over and talk to you."

So he still wasn't satisfied with cheating on you. He wanted to cheat on his new girl too. Your shoulders tensed as your hand clenched into a fist, but he didn't notice.

Kyle took a step towards you and jerked his chin in the direction of the bar.

"You want to get a drink together?" He asked. He ignored the people dancing around you as you sidestepped flailing elbows and extreme dippers.

"There you are, darling!"

You spun around with the biggest grin on your face to see Tech carrying two drinks over the heads of the crowd. His extra four inches certainly helped.

He smiled at you and handed you a glass, leaning down to speak in your ear above the noise of the crowd, "Just how you like it." He left a kiss on your temple, sticky from the alcohol in his own drink.

"Thanks Tech," You took a sip through the tiny straw, and the bright flavor danced over your tongue, sending laughter bubbling up from your chest.

"Who's this?" Kyle rudely exclaimed. Tech's free hand settled on your hip.

"Oh, right," You said, as if you had forgotten that Kyle was standing right there (who was to say you hadn't forgotten? Tech was standing right there, after all).

"Kyle, this is my boyfriend. Tech, you remember I told you about my ex, Kyle?"

"Harsh," Kyle muttered. You ignored him.

"Ah yes, the one with the close female friend?" Tech said, pulling you closer to him.

"It's nice to meet you Trent!" Kyle tried to regain control of the situation and stuck out his hand.

Tech stared at Kyle's hand for a moment, regarding it as he would Wrecker's underwear left strewn on the navigation console. He slowly removed his hand from your waist, but took a step in front of you to shield you from Kyle and grip his hand.'

You heard Kyle inhale sharply, and he quickly molded his wince into a half-there smirk. You snorted into your drink. Watching Tech staredown your ex was more intoxicating than a hundred drinks.

"Nice grip you got there, Trent," He shook out his hand.

"You know what they say; it's how you make a good first impression." Tech took a sip of his drink. You hadn't even realized it, but his arm was already around you again. You smiled into your glass.

Kyle "accidentally" stumbled forward in the crowd of dancers, tipping your glass too far forward so that it you almost inhaled it, sending the rest splashed over the front of your shirt.

The alcohol burned in your nose as you tried to snort it out, and Tech placed himself in between you and Kyle, quickly procuring a handkerchief to help you dry your face.

"Oh man," Kyle didn't sound super sorry, "Let me buy you a drink to make up for-"

Tech removed his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders, "No need to worry. Accidents happen."

"Thank you, babe,"

"Of course," Tech kissed your forehead, leaving Kyle slack-jawed in the middle of his reply. Did the mir'sheb truly think you had been calling him by a pet name?

"Oh dear," Tech looked down at his comm, "That would be Hunter. He wanted to discuss the schematics we recovered from the Seperatist's new weapon."

Then Kyle had the audacity to place his hand on your arm, "Why don't we catch up for a while? This braniac couldn't possibly need you for all that junk."

Oh boy. Kyle had done it now. Tech's face was red, and you could fairly see the steam coming from his ears.

"Are you insinuating that she is not smart enough to understand what we will be discussing? When it is in fact the technology that she invented that was stolen by the Seperatists and co-opted for much more nefarious purposes?"

Tech swatted Kyle's hand away, "You are hardly fit to shine her shoes, much less hold a conversation with her!"

With that, Tech wrapped his arm around your shoulders, jacket and all, and ushered you out the door, leaving your glasses with a serving droid.

He stood tall and rigid, foot tapping impatiently as you waited for the taxi speeder. His arm never left your shoulders as you sat in the back seat, and your face grew warmer and warmer. You were hardly embarrassed, but watching Tech stand up for you the way he had with Kyle was undeniably hot.

"Are you alright?" He squeaked. It took a moment for you to realize he had been the one to ask you.

"What?"

"Did I overstep?" He asked. The speeder stopped in front of your apartment, and Tech paid the driver before helping you out. You held the lapels of his jacket with one hand to keep it close around you in the cool night air, but your other hand refused to let go of his.

"Not at all. He deserved it." You sighed, rolling your shoulders to relieve the tension.

"So, what did you think?"

"Your stories do not do justice to his weasely nature," Tech huffed, "The next time he approaches you, run. Come to me or someone else you trust, because I wouldn't even trust him with a secondhand chronometer."

You wrapped your arms around his, "Of course."

Tech glanced down at you with a small smile. You kept your head on his shoulder as he led you up to your apartment. There, your boyfriend helped you out of the jacket and out of your shoes, running you a warm bath to get the sticky alcohol off your skin. He'd even set out your most comfortable pajamas by the time you'd gotten out. When you found him in the kitchen, putting together a bowl of ice cream to split, he was wearing the matching set.

You thought back to long nights with Kyle. He was usually passed out on the couch every time you came out of the shower, some random holofilm on blast. If you dared to turn it off, he would snap that he'd been watching that and if you wanted to help you'd get him a snack or something.

This situation was one you much preferred.

You came up behind Tech, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his back. Tech was used to this by now, and continued with his sundae construction as you recharged.

"I win," You said out loud.

"Hmm?" Tech asked, "What did you win?"

You gave a tug on his shirt and he turned in your arms so that he could face you. His arms were raised awkwardly like a scared hawk-bat, so that he wouldn't hit you with his elbow or the ice cream scoop.

"You," You said, resting your chin on his chest.

"Really?" Tech said. His face was carefully schooled to not give away any emotion, but his tone was teasing.

"Yes," You insisted, "I win."

Tech gently cupped your chin, tilting it upwards so that he could kiss you, pressing his plush lips against yours. He already tasted like the canned starcherries that he was fond of putting on top of his ice cream. You couldn't think of anything sweeter.

A moment later, Tech rested his forehead against yours, giving yourselves a moment to catch your breath.

"Well," He laughed softly, "I will strive to be a worthy prize."

You stretched upward on your tiptoes to kiss him again. The scoop clattered to the floor at his surprise, and his hands came up to cradle your face. You never wanted him to let go.

"You already are, Tech," You murmured against his lips before he stole another kiss, "You already are.

Laundry Day (Cal Kestis x reader)

Summary: Cal can’t always control when his psychometric powers grant him a glimpse of the past. And even less so when the object holds a powerful emotional echo.

Or: Cal picks up the shirt you masturbated in.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI; afab!reader but no pronouns used; no use of y/n; porn with some plot; hints of voyeurism if you squint; sub!Cal if you squint; first kiss; first time; hand job; masturbation; if I missed anything please let me know!

A/N: This is shameless and self-indulgent and hastily written before the motivation left. I will not apologize.

Word Count: 2,205

Read it here on AO3!

NSFW below the cut!

You clench your jaw, the damp fabric of your shirt caught between your teeth as you struggle to keep quiet. But gods your fingers feel so good circling your clit and you’re absolutely soaked right now and you have to be quiet because Cal is sleeping in the room across the hall.

The thought of Cal overhearing your late-night activities makes your pussy clench around nothing. Eyes falling shut, you gather some more wetness and press more firmly on that bundle of nerves that has you on fire. Images of Cal’s toned forearms, freckled face, powerful thighs flash through your mind. You stifle a groan.

This is so bad, and you know it. You shouldn’t be getting off to the thought of your friend—never mind the fact that he’s a Jedi. But even when he’s only hidden behind a few thin durasteel walls, he occupies your mind. The way his eyes dance with fiery determination when a new opportunity to strike against the Empire arises. The way his plush lips curve up into sarcastic smiles at your jokes. His tenderness with BD. His softness with you.

And that’s what gets you all riled up in the first place: it’s just how genuinely good Cal Kestis is. There’s not a mean bone in his body. He takes care of you, and you of him, and the domesticity of it all drives you absolutely insane.

Which leads you here. You finally plunge two of your fingers into your tight, wet heat, imagining—wishing—it was Cal’s fingers instead. Exhaling a shaky breath, you crook your fingers up against the spongy wall of your cunt and press. Your hips rock involuntarily, and the added friction against your clit has your toes curling. You breathe deep through your nose, loosening your muscles as the wave of pleasure zinging through you crests.

And you cum, teeth unlatching from your shirt as you gasp out Cal’s name.

Once the aftershocks die down, you shuck the shirt off over your head, the neckline entirely damp with your now-cooling saliva. The temperature is uncomfy; you snatch a clean shirt from beneath your bunk to wear instead. Tossing the soiled shirt toward your growing laundry pile, you settle down under the covers at last, curling on your side as sleep finally, finally takes you.

The next morning when you wake, the comforting hum of the hyperdrive engine is silent. You must’ve arrived at your next destination while you slept. Good. Even though it’s only been you and Cal for about a year now, you still try to keep some extra supplies on board in case any of the old crew decide to rejoin you and Cal. And after your last run-in with the Empire, forcing you into hiding for a standard month, all of your supplies are low. You’ll use this opportunity to restock.

But first, you need to wash up. The lights on both Cal’s door and the ’fresher are green, meaning he’s probably up in the cockpit with BD. Slipping into the ’fresher, you lock the door behind you and turn the knob to heat the water up. Your sleep clothes crumple to the floor as you shuffle out of them, trying to focus on creating a mental list of the supplies you’ll need to pick up today. Yet, your traitorous mind keeps drifting back to your solo fun last night—heat throbbing between your legs at just the thought of how hard you came—and you shake your head angrily at yourself.

“Get a grip,” you grumble.

As if summoned by your thoughts, there’s a knock at the door. You jump. Your heart hammers in your throat.

“Kriff, Cal, you scared me,” you call through the door.

“Sorry,” he calls back, and you hear the genuine regret in his voice. “I just wanted to check to see if you had any laundry? It’ll be a bit before we’re able to get it done after today.”

“Good thinking,” you say. “There’s a pile on my floor. I can get it, though; don’t worry about my stuff.”

He doesn’t respond, and you visualize the sardonic, two-fingered salute he’s recently gotten in the habit of giving. A smile quirks your lips.

A smile that is quickly obliterated as a jolt of pure anxiety bursts through you. Gods, knowing Cal, he’s already gone to grab your dirty laundry, and the shirt—the fucking shirt—is right on top, and you know he can’t always control his psycho-Force-whateveritscalled powers.

The ’fresher door slams open and you dash across the narrow hall to your room.

To your horror, Cal is in fact there, gathering your clothes from the floor, and the warning to wait gets choked in your throat as he grabs the shirt on the top of the pile, the one that’s surely still damp with your spit and sweat.

His entire body stiffens, eyes widening, his grip on the other clothes going limp as he experiences the Force echo you’ve left behind. Feeling like you’ve been doused in gasoline and ice at the same time, it finally registers for you that you’re naked in front of Cal fucking Kestis and he’s feeling you cum to the thought of him.

“Cal, I—”

“Oh.” The strangled moan that tears from his throat has your mind reeling, never in a million years imagining that you’d ever hear him make such a lewd noise, let alone in reaction to you.

You reach for him, placing a shaking hand on his arm. “Are- Are you okay?”

He blinks and seems to physically re-enter this current moment. His cheeks are bright pink, his chest heaving. At his wide-eyed once over of your naked form, your knees nearly give out.

“I’m so sorry,” you continue. Panic seizes at your lungs, making it hard to breathe. “I shouldn’t have- I should have- I’m so so sorry, Cal, I can leave if you want—”

“Hey.” He rests both of his large, warm hands on your bare shoulders, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Deep breaths. I’m not- I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” You try to catch your breath, but the darkening of his green eyes has your breath catching for an entirely different reason now.

He shakes his head. “How long?”

Chewing at the inside of your cheek nervously, you drop your gaze. “Months. Since we first met.”

Gently, he guides your chin up so that you meet his gaze again. His eyes are soft—darker than usual, yes—but there’s that familiar softness to them that unwinds some of the tension in your chest. He holds your gaze long enough for your heart to stop pounding, but you can’t will away the swirling pit of regret pulling at your insides. He’s not mad, which is great, but he’s still not said anything and you can’t figure out what he might say or what he’s feeling or—

“Can I kiss you?”

You blink dumbly. “What?”

A faint smile ghosts over his features. “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh gods yes,” you squeak out.

A true smile tugs at his lips, and then slowly, giving you ample time to change your mind and pull away, he leans down, one hand supporting the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek. Your eyes close and you stand on your toes, meeting him halfway.

His lips are as soft as you imagined, and you can’t help the needy whine that escapes you as he pulls you flush against him. Your bare, heated skin presses against the leather of his chest piece, tantalizing against the sensitive skin of your breasts. Snaking one hand up into his silken hair, your other grips at his muscled bicep, grounding yourself. His mouth moves slowly against your own.

This is really fucking happening.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against your own. You peer up through your eyelashes at him.

“I take it you feel the same?” you ask, breathless.

“Since we met,” he affirms in a low tone. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and you catch the digit between your teeth and suck. He groans. “Gods, if I’d known...”

You just hum, swirling your tongue around his thumb until he withdraws, only to kiss you again. Electricity feels like it dances along your skin where he touches you. Blindly, you tug him backwards with you until your legs hit the bunk. Lowering yourself, he follows, bracing himself over you with his forearms to either side of your head, caging you in. With a soft moan, you hook a leg over his hips and drag him down to you. The friction of his clothes against your aching core makes you hiss.

“Fuck, take these off, please,” you plead, tugging with weak fingers at his shirt.

He sits up just long enough to rip the offending garments off, and you practically drool at the sight of his toned chest as it is revealed to you. Scars litter the otherwise smooth alabaster, and you know you’ll take your time at a later date tracing them, committing them to memory. Right now, though, your attention is drawn farther down as he shimmies out of his pants. His hard cock, the tip a gorgeous shade of pink, bobs as it comes free of its confines.

“Oh gods,” you groan. “May I?”

“Please.”

You’ve never heard his voice so strained before, and you are nothing if not eager to continue drawing sounds from him. Wrapping your fingers tentatively around the hot shaft of his dick, you hum in delight at the way he twitches in your grip. You slowly work his cock, eyes trained on his face, catching every flutter of his eyelashes, every time he bites his lip, every miniscule reaction you can possibly gain from him.

“I want you inside me,” you say.

He groans. “I- I’ve never—”

“It’s alright,” you soothe. You release him for a moment to gather some of the slick from between your folds—and can’t resist rubbing your pussy for just a few seconds, letting a broken moan fall from your lips. Then you use the slick to lube his dick up.

“C’mere,” you say, your legs widening for him to slot in between. “I’ve got you. Say the word and it all stops.”

“I want this,” he says, eyes trained on yours as he settles himself between your thighs. “I want you.”

You hum in delight and, guiding him, line his cock up with your neglected entrance. Wrapping your legs around him, you press down with your heels to push him into you.

His head falls to your shoulder with a broken, gasping moan. You clench at the burning stretch of him filling you, nails digging into his smooth skin. He’s not even touched you, barely begun to fuck you, and you’re already ready to cum.

“Cal,” you murmur, caressing his back, “you okay?”

“S’alot,” he mumbles against your skin. “Can I—?”

“Yes, please.” You press a kiss to his shoulder. “Make love to me, Cal.”

With a whine, he slowly withdraws, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging deliciously on your walls, and then pushes back into you just as slowly. You moan with him at the sensation of filling and being filled, unsure where you begin and he ends, lost in the feeling of just him. He sets a languid pace, kissing your neck, murmuring sweet words in your ear: “You feel so good. Take me so well. Fuck, I needed this. Needed you.”

When he adjusts his grip on you, reaching beneath your body to support your hips, you laugh breathlessly.

“Gonna cum like this.”

He bites down on the sensitive juncture between your neck and shoulder as he snaps his hips against yours, making you cry out. The agonizingly slow pull out, the moment’s pause where only his tip remains in your dripping pussy, and then the overwhelming burst of pleasure as he slams back into you: it’s all you know. It’s all you’ve ever known, all you ever will know. You babble praises, begging, pleading with him, the coil in your belly growing tighter and hotter the harder he fucks into you.

“Can feel you’re close,” he slurs. “Cum for me. Please.”

That’s what does it, hearing him beg for you to cum on him. You go rigid, white flashing in your eyes as the tight coil snaps. Pleasure floods through you, and dimly you’re aware of Cal growling against your ear as he rocks you through it, his promises of cumming in you only serving to draw out the shockwaves of your orgasm. You think you scream. And then, when you feel his dick pulse as he goes absolutely still, you cum again.

He’s laughing when you come down from your high. He remains in you even as he begins to go soft, his giddy, breathless giggles pure music to your ears.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers.

“I just— this is not how I expected today to go,” he says, still laughing.

You smile. “Maybe you should do the laundry more often, hm?”

He just kisses you, and you’re content with that answer.

The Bad Batch/Star Wars Fanart Masterlist - 2023

Modern AU - Bad Batch

Hallway Timelapse

Aquarium

Omega's Room

Road Trip

Nightmare

Pumpkin Carving

Movie Night

A Typical Morning

Soccer

Backyard Camping

Clone Cadets

2023

Through the Ages

Do you Blame Yourself?

Hunter Animation

Sneaking A Movie

Redrawn Cadets

Hurt Tech - TW Blood

Art Challenges/Requests

Wrecker and Tookas

Bad Haircuts

Crosshair Hug

Character Art

2023

TBB Poster

Happy Tech

Season 3 Tech

Cross and Omega S3

Dr.Hemlock

Tech's Fall

Crosshair In Cell

TBB x Vox Machina

Omega and Lyanna

Crosshair Wings

Echo and Omega Hug

Aftermath of Episode 8

Tech and Omega Talk

A cursed creation

Shopping

Character Lineup

Comic Cover

Haircut

Omega Stargazing

Fanfiction Fanart

What it Means to be a Buir

These Silver Linings

Stick Together

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Shop Just a simple artist selling fanart for fun. by AlligatorPie1945 located in Denver, Colorado. Top shop for gifts. A buyer bought a gift

:* xavi

Some Tech study sketches. As much as i love him, his armor is a pain in the butt to draw. also his goggles make it hard to show his expressions o(-(

also bonus another dumb sketch of him

my partner said to me "what if Fives had booty shorts that said Flank 'Em and Spank 'Em" and I said say no more my love. those are his gym shorts