#blade runner imagines

[geekynerfherder]

Showcasing art from some of my favourite artists, and those that have attracted my attention, in the field of visual arts, including vintage; pulp; pop culture; books and comics; concert posters; fantastical and imaginative realism; classical; contemporary; new contemporary; pop surrealism; conceptual and illustration.

The art of Rhonda Libbey.

[ken-dom]

can you write some fluff with Officer K? I’m desperate!! Nobody seems to post about him anymore sadly and you’re one of my favorite ryan gosling accounts !!

like his first time cuddling since he’s extremely touch starved

or first time trying a sweet

maybe playing in the snow

WHATEVER YOU LIKE!!! THANK YOU!!!

Thank you anon, that’s very sweet of you! I love a touch starved guy getting some fluff in his life so…

K is frozen to the spot as your arms move forward and snake around his waist, hands gliding up his back, squeezing and caressing.

He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. He knows the etiquette, but he can’t seem to translate that from knowledge to action. Not when it feels so…? Good?

He hears you sigh, feels you relax against his stiff frame, and he can’t stop his thoughts wandering to why you’d want this — with him, anyway. He sees the appeal of it, though, and he begins to crave more the longer you’re attached to him, but part of him is saying it’s not ok to reciprocate. You’re real. And he’s…

Well, he knows what he is. And he knows that you know what he is, so it circles back to, Why?

You break his thoughts with a whispered, ‘It’s ok.’

That’s all it takes, and suddenly the floodgates open and he knows what to do. His arms close around you more easily than he anticipated, he drops his head to yours and really lets himself feel.

It all happens so fast he thinks he might have hurt you, but you’re still comfortably pressed against his chest, breathing steadily, humming now and then at the closeness, and he hums too, following your lead.

It’s weirdly tingly and wonderfully soft, and it’s warm, and it’s safe.

He wonders if it’s normal to never want to let go, but as if you read his mind, you mumble that very same sentiment against his chest and it gives him the courage to ask if you’ll stay a while, hoping to lay on the sofa with you, or on the bed, just like this. Just feeling. Safe.

[castieltrash1]

I'm desperate for any content with Driver or K, maybe just how'd they treat you as their partner? Love your work!!

driver is a bit of a chameleon boyfriend. he’s used to blending in and attracting as little attention as possible, which extends to his personal life. whatever you’re interested in, so is he. if you like to eat somewhere, he’ll suggest that place every time you mention being hungry. as long as you are happy, that’s all that really matters to him. if you want to plan dates, he’ll follow your schedule down to the second. and if you’re more spontaneous, he’ll have his jacket and car keys nearby to take you wherever you want. 

he’s protective, of course, but he also loves seeing you be successful in whatever endeavors you pursue in life. whether that’s a mundane 9-5 or a niche passion that doesn’t pay the bills, he will cheer you on for every milestone you cross. ideally, he’d take care of you in every way that matters (financially, emotionally, mentally, physically, etc.) but he doesn’t want to stifle you, either. that doesn’t mean he won’t silently fix any of your problems behind your back, though! bitchy manager bothering you? you’ll never believe it, but she switched locations! low on rent? you must’ve forgotten those couple hundred dollar bills you left haphazardly tucked between your mattress! too tired to cook dinner? well, your boyfriend just texted saying he’s off work and would love to grab something and swing by your place to eat!

safe to say, one of his love languages is acts of service. including the ones you don’t know about, he takes care of every problem in your life. he’ll catch every bug, fix every leaky sink, install your new curtains, reconnect your router, change your oil, etc. speaking of cars, if you’re insistent on driving yourself everywhere, driver will check your car every five seconds to make sure it’s safe.

+ driver isn’t big on pda, but if you’ve just arrived or are leaving, he will pout without a kiss hello or goodbye. if you forget (or purposely avoid for the sake of teasing) either, he’ll follow you, grab your wrist, and use his other hand to hold your jaw steady while he kisses you. only then will he smile, let go, and pretend nothing happened.

-

OFFICER K UNDER THE CUT!

k can be insecure, sometimes. he knows it’s already hard enough dating a replicant, but his dangerous job doesn’t make it any easier. all he has to offer you is his plain apartment and the nights he’s not working, neither of which he finds particularly appealing. he’s not really sure why you like him, but he’ll be damned if he gives you any reason to break it off. every second that he can devote to you, he does. 

since he’s out in the city most of the time, k enjoys spending time indoors. of course, if you want to go anywhere while he’s home, he’ll be stuck to your side like glue, glaring at anyone who even gives you a second glance. but, what he loves most of all is curling up beside you and listening to the rainfall. nothing makes him feel more human than doing nothing for the sole purpose of it. he’s made to perform tasks, so there’s something rebellious about enjoying the silence of your apartment, counting each beat of your heart, and feeling the warmth of your skin against the synthetic of his. knowing that he doesn’t have to service you or offer anything for you to want to spend time with him makes him ecstatic.

while k can’t afford lavish gifts or, really, much at all, he does come into contact with a large collection of rare items at work. he’s always excited to bring evidence home since he knows you’ll get a kick out of seeing and touching a real flower or piece of wood. while the scarcity of the item intrigues him, he doesn’t have the same desire to connect to humanity’s past the way you, understandably, do. where he sees just another part of an ongoing case, you see years of ancestry and a forgotten world. secretly, the excited glint in your eyes has started to make him feel something similar.

+ k loves pet names. the first time you called him babe/baby, he stilled and stared at you in shock. he’d heard humans referring to other humans that way, but the names people usually called him were very different. whenever you call him a pet name, he smiles, almost unconsciously. he’s tried every combination of affection terms with you, but his favorites are the personalized ones that he knows no one else ever has or ever will call you. they remind him that, for now, at least, you’re entirely his. when you use them in return, he feels unique, like a human. he feels like he finally has a real name. out of the well-known ones, however, k’s favorites are sweetheart, dear, flower, and pretty. flower and other pet names based on things that are now rare feel especially fitting to him, since someone “as perfect as you is hard to find.”

gosling sleepover sunday

[the-purest-wolf]

Those long blonde hairs and the suit are driving me crazy

[greenandsorrow]

Enter the Gosling universe...

Ken

Oneshots

Ken x salon!Barbie/ sfw (🦋)

Multi chap

"Boytoy" - Ken x fem!human!reader/ smut

Officer K

Oneshots

Dreaming of neon snow. - K x Joi/ nsfw (@/goosemas)

Multi chap

After Dark - K x fem!reader/ nsfw, smutty

Others

Oneshots

"You should learn to knock first..." - Colt Seavers x curvy!fem!reader/ smut

The thunderstorm. - Sierra Six x implied!fem!reader/ fluff, comfort SOON

general masterlist

how to support me: click here

[drivinmeinsane]

Thoughts on Officer KD6-3.7 as a romantic partner

It takes K a long time to confront his own feelings about you, much less say it out loud. He was worried that if he acknowledged the love he feels for you, he would be irreparably changed, never close to baseline again. He wasn’t wrong. To love and to be loved in return is to be changed.

He uses terms of endearment for you more than he uses your name. It helps to make his dreams of serene domesticity more of a reality. “sweetheart”, “darling”, and “honey” are his go-tos. The first time you called him by a pet name, he stopped dead in his tracks, completely overwhelmed. It gives him a sense of humanity, of belonging, when you call by something kind.

K would never miss a special date. He’ll even go so far as to make up his own milestones and celebrations as an excuse to do something nice for you when the mood strikes. It’s your anniversary today? Sure, of the twentieth Tuesday you’ve known him.

The replicant is touch starved. Even simple brushes of your hand against his or grazes of your bodies together when you move past one another is enough to bring him leaning into your space, chasing the sensation. It is not something he seems to have control over.

He's more comfortable being touched than being the one to touch. He’s not accustomed to being allowed to initiate contact with no orders or with implied permission. Once K overcomes that barrier, he can hardly keep his hands off of you. He places lingering hands on your arms, brushes his fingers over your palm, winds your hair around his fingers, anything at all to feel something tangible and remind himself that you are here with him.

He wants so badly to be real for you. In his worst moments, he’s worried that he won’t ever be enough, that his status as a replicant makes him lesser, not worthy of your affections. His fears lead him to believe that you would prefer an organic partner.

K often tells you that you don’t have to be nice to him, that you don’t have to treat him with the care and tenderness that you do. He can’t seem to fathom that you actually want him. He doesn’t have anything to offer you but himself and that’s hardly worth having, isn’t it?

He would do anything within the realm of his capabilities for you. You are the most important thing in his existence. He wishes he were not a despised pet tethered to the LAPD. He wishes he could leave without becoming what he retires.

He reads to you. It takes his mind off the work day. The apartment isn’t filled with many books, but you enjoy each of them because the time he spends reading out loud is soothing for the both of you. His steady voice lulls you into a relaxed state from where he reads in his chair as you sit on the couch with his feet resting on your lap. His voice gets rougher and deeper when you trace nonsensical patterns over his legs.

While he’s not supposed to take items from crime scenes, he does it anyway, slipping them into the pockets on the inside of his coat. He comes home and shows what he has taken to you with the earnest hope that you will enjoy the meager offering. He can’t afford to give you much, but he can do this.

He always looks at you like you’re going to disappear. His eyes scan you like a data screen any chance he gets. He’s memorizing everything about you with each pass of his eyes. He holds those observations close for fear they’ll be all he has left of you. He doesn’t get to keep things. He doesn’t get to own anything that can’t be taken away. He’s a possession himself. 

18+ content under the cut.

His cum is bio-luminescent. In the dark, it glows a pretty blue to match his eyes. It's another reminder that K is not quite human.

He's nervous about sexual contact due to past experiences and trauma. You're one of the very few people that he's actually wanted to be intimate with. He’s firm, almost aggressive, in bed. He’s starved for physical intimacy for so long, that he longs to feast, to make up for the absence.

K firmly believes that he is a tool. He is made to give, not to receive, so it surprises him every time when you want to bring him pleasure for the sake of it. The novelty of receiving a blow job or something that focuses solely on him never wears off.

He has a breeding kink. He knows it's impossible for him to get anyone pregnant, but it's nice to occasionally lose himself in the fantasy of being real enough to make it happen.

If Joi is an active participant in your lives, one thing that really gets him off is engaging in sex with you while Joi is activated. Her being there to murmur encouraging things to the both of you, dictating how you should touch each other, gets him cumming embarrassingly fast.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

[cwarscars]

[glitterpeachtree]

The short Stories of Sierra Six and Claire

It didn't take long for Claire to start showing signs of post traumatic stress disorder. After losing Donald, Claire seemed a bit off. I noticed that she would keep her bedroom door open, she always needed to know where I was going, and she started having nightmares. When we first moved into the safe house, I let her have the master bedroom. Although it wasn't much bigger than the other bedroom, it had its own bathroom connected to it and a slightly bigger closet. I was no expert on tween girls, but I knew that I should probably give her as much privacy as possible.

"Six? I know you wanted me to have this bedroom, but I really would rather have the other bedroom." She asked on the first night at the house. We were both in the living room getting settled.

"Are you sure? I really don't care if I have the small room" I said to her. She put her book down, she was reading Little House on the Prairie. She glanced at her bedroom door, and then back at me and frowned.

"I just don't like how it's in the corner of the house. I feel...like I'm...Trapped?" Claire avoided eye contact with me when she said that. After her parents, and her uncle dying, not to mention getting kidnapped, it would make sense for Claire to feel this way.

"Okay. I understand." I nodded. "Claire?" She looked up at me. "You know I'm not going anywhere, right?" Claire nodded and then picked her book back up.

......

A couple days later I got up around 5am and went to do a perimeter check around the house. I thought Claire was sound asleep in her bedroom (her small bedroom), but as I zipped my jacket up, I saw her peak from her door and say, "Where are you going?" she looked panicked, breathless.

"I'm-Im just doing a quick once around. I didn't mean to wake you." She stared at me for a moment. "I'll be right back Claire, I promise. Go back to bed."

Once I came back into the house I found Claire sitting at the small dining room table. It had 3 chairs, though one was broken. The leg was loose and could probably pop off if someone sat on it. Claire was staring straight ahead, her knee bouncing. She was scared and nervous. She was afraid that I was going to spontaneously disappear.

"Told ya I'd be back." She whipped her head around. It took me a minute to realize that she was crying. "Claire-" Before I could finish saying her name she ran up to me and buried her head in my chest. She started sobbing a little bit

"He's g-gone. And he's never coming back-ck." Of course she was talking about Donald. Donald had been her "father" since her parents died. He was the last family she (and I) had left. I rubbed her back and rested my chin on her head. We swayed side to side a tiny bit. I clutched my other hand over her shoulder, and we stayed like that, until she could catch her breath.

"Claire...It's gonna be okay." I said to her. After a couple of minutes she muttered, "I can't lose you too. Six, you're all I have left."

Immediately I felt my heart flutter. I was now Claire's father figure. After a life of prison, murder, and guilt, I realized what my true calling was. I felt whole again. I embraced Claire a little tighter, and let go, and looked at down at her.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" She nodded and looked down at the floor.

"Can you just, stay? Like until I fall asleep?"

"Yeah. Sure."

.....

[panosatthemovies]

All We Imagine As Light is a mesmerizing new film by Indian filmmaker Payal Kapadia that shines a light on a few individual nurses living among the millions of workers in Bombay, putting Western audiences in the shoes of people they would never have a chance to know otherwise. And it does this in the most engaging, real, and immersive ways that true cinema can, transporting you to another life. Bombay is portrayed in a Blade Runner type of way, as a city mostly seen at night, during constant rain, where individuals living on the streets can't find the light blocked by the skyscrapers of the rich. Yet, they still dream and seek love and freedom. Something they will poetically find in the second part of the film when they travel to a seaside village and claim their fantasies. Authentical in its form, with strong performances and a moody music score and sound design, this is cinema both as art and as individual expression. An original but universal voice you should listen to and keep an eye for in the future.

A-

Trailer: https://youtu.be/2mgQcpmYr_A

[glutenfreehimbo]

I made a realization about Blade Runner.

So we know that the movie is based on the novel “do androids dream of electric sheep”. But the titular sheep is no where to be found in the movie. Except. Someone’s name literal means “ewe” (a lamb for those who don’t know) and guess who that is???

Rachael is the electric sheep. In the book the sheep was sort of the protags object of desire. Wanting to care for the sheep and what not. Much in the way that Deckard wants to help Rachael.

[geekynerfherder]

Showcasing art from some of my favourite artists, and those that have attracted my attention, in the field of visual arts, including vintage; pulp; pop culture; books and comics; concert posters; fantastical and imaginative realism; classical; contemporary; new contemporary; pop surrealism; conceptual and illustration.

The art of Pascal Blanché.

[jaa1682-27]

😍🥰🥰

Interlinked - Part 2

Summary: Stepping in to help K is instinct, but what comes after is a choice, one that’s easy to make.  Pairing: Officer K x F!Reader  W/C: 3.9K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Violence, angst, loss of virginity and sexual situations. A/N: Thank you N and my Gosling discord girls for their help (@sashayazie, @ninjathrowingstork and @elusivewildflower)

Part 1

It starts slow, with dinners here and there and small gifts exchanged. Cakes and sweets for artificial flowers, until soon enough you have a whole arrangement of them in a small vase on your bedside table. Eventually, K’s over almost every night and in time you’re able to coax him into talking more. You learn about his job as a Blade Runner, reading into the things he doesn’t say. It’s a hard job and more often than not he comes home banged up.

Like tonight. K shows up at your door freshly showered with a nasty purpling bruise on his jaw that extends up into his hairline. He lets you touch his cheek and fuss over him, jokingly promising it's worse than it looks. You offer him a frozen bag from your freezer that you kept for such an occasion, which he presses to his face while leaning against the counter to watch you cook. You tell him about your day and catch him watching you with that little half smile he’s taken to wearing around you.

“How was your day?” You ask him once you sit down. 

“It was a day,” he replies evenly, pushing around the rice on his plate. 

You know then he doesn’t want to talk about it and you switch to discussing a humorous incident today regarding one of the children of your employers. After dinner you split the lone cupcake you were allowed to take home, enjoying how his eyes close and he sighs as he savors the buttercream frosting. The cake itself is a little stale but it’s still sweet and rich on your tongue. 

“I never had real sugar before I met you,” he says, licking the wrapper. 

“I sneak tastes at work all the time,” you admit, grinning. “Quality control.”

“Just doing your job,” he agrees, leaning back and resting his hands on his stomach.

Joking with you is a recent development and you love it. He always looks so relaxed, almost boyish when he does. Handsome too, another voice reminds you. You shake off the thought and move to take the plates as he follows you into the kitchen. These odd feelings have been happening more and more and you know what they mean, even if you try to ignore them. K is your friend- nothing more. You’re probably the only person who treats him like a human. 

You clean up together, conversation stalling though he doesn’t seem bothered by it. At the door you hug goodbye, savoring how tightly he holds you. The first time this happened he’d been so stiff and awkward you were sure you’d crossed some boundary but then, hesitantly, he brought his arms up. His hold was gentle, almost like he was afraid if he squeezed too hard you might disappear. Now it’s routine and more often than not he’s the one to pull you to him. As much you tell yourself it’s for K, you know you need it too. Before him, you could go weeks without touching someone else.

“I hope tomorrow is better,” you say as a goodbye.

He shrugs, one shoulder lifting as he steps into the hallway. Another smile for you and then he turns back to his door. Before he can make it there, one of your other neighbors, a big dark-haired man bumps into him purposefully. 

“Fuck off skinjob,” he growls, sparing you a disgusted look. 

He’s off down the hall before you can respond. K’s jaw tenses but he doesn’t say anything, disappearing into his apartment. It’s been happening more and more, people have noticed you’re spending time with him and they have a lot to say about it. Some of the warnings are gentle and shared with you out of real concern, while others are meant to intimidate or scare you. You ignore them all.

–

It’s Friday evening and clumps of snow float through the air as you trudge through the dirty streets. You’ve got real meat in your bag, ground chicken and some leftover sliced ham with a handful of potatoes and even a coveted batch of strawberries you’re excited for K to try. They’re a little mushy but still sweet on your tongue. You don’t see the man until it’s too late. He throws you up against the wall, hard enough to knock the wind from your lungs. You sputter and cough, the bag slipping from your fingers and falling to the wet ground.

“Stay away from the skinjob,” he warns you. He stinks, old beer and something rotten that makes your stomach curdle. “Humans and replicants shouldn’t mix.”

His grip on your jaw is painful and tears leak from the corner of your eyes. A second later the pressure is gone when the man is thrown on the floor hard enough that he coughs up a little blood and groans. K stands over him. 

“Stay down,” he warns the other man, turning to face you. His hand hovers beside your cheek and you blink rapidly to clear the wetness from your eyes. At your nod he touches you, rough fingertips skating over your jaw and up to your temple.  “Are you okay?” He asks quietly.  

You make a small sound, tapping your chest. “Just took my breath,” you whisper, seeing the way his hand shakes. “I’m okay,” you promise him. “Really.”

Behind K, the man gets to his feet, swaying and spitting blood. “I’m going to report you,” he slurs. “Get your ass retired.”

“Penal code 12, section 14B says I’m allowed to intervene between two humans when one is in danger,” K replies automatically, tone devoid of any emotion. “I am also allowed to use lethal force. Remember that next time.” 

The man grimaces and sways, anger twisting his face as he stumbles back to the street, muttering. You sag against the wall and K steps closer. His breath is warm over your skin as he leans in. The unnaturally quick way his eyes dart over your face and chest as he searches for any visible wounds is a reminder of what he really is, but you push that thought down and let him turn you around and inspect the back of your head. Even though it throbs, he assures you there’s no blood. 

“It’s cold. We should go inside,” he says.

You acquiesce and let him hold your canvas bag. He keeps a firm grip on your arm as you slowly make your way up the steps of the building. People watch you pass but you ignore them, tired and in pain. No one bothers you at least, and when you glance over at K you understand why. His normally blank expression is hard, meeting the eyes of anyone who looks at you with a challenging stare you’ve not seen before. In your apartment he helps you out of your coat and puts away your treasured groceries. After, he stands there, hands at his side. 

“Has this happened before?”

“No,” you promise him. “I think that man was just drunk and angry, looking for someone to take his frustration out on.” The blank expression on K’s face concerns you. You know what his next words are going to be so you speak before he can, moving the conversation to something less difficult. “I got some strawberries for you to try. Can you get them?”

A painfully long moment passes before he finally concedes and moves to the kitchen to retrieve the small metal container. He also brings a glass of water and two pain pills. You pop a strawberry into your mouth, savoring the sweet burst of flavor as he cautiously eats one as well. His eyes widen in surprise and he chews slowly. 

“Good, right?”

“Yes,” he agrees, accepting the second one you offer. 

You take the pills with the water and talk about the blackberries you snuck a taste of at work, how surprisingly tart it was. K continues to listen as you split the last of the strawberries and by the time you’re done you can see some of the tension in his body is gone. He’s leaning back against the couch beside you, legs spread and hands resting on his thighs. That night you let him cook dinner after he insists you rest. You supervise from the couch, noting how the back of his neck turns pink with each compliment you give him. 

–

The next week passes quietly and without incident until K fails to show up for dinner on Friday. That in itself is not unusual, his time isn’t his own and he’s often called into the station at the last minute, but he does always let you know. Hours pass without any word and your worry grows when you knock on his apartment and get no answer. Finally, nearing midnight, a message from him arrives. It’s short, just an apology and the promise to join you for dinner tomorrow. You know you should leave him alone but there’s a lingering, persistent worry that has you pulling on a sweater over your pjs and slipping into your shoes.

You peek outside. The hallway is empty this time of night, and you shuffle across to his door, knocking lightly. Eventually it opens but only a crack. K’s bloodied face greets you. He looks worse than the first time you saw him on the stairs and you can’t help the little sound of horror you make. He sighs your name and tells you to go home, but your hand shoots out to stop him from shutting the door.

“What happened?” You ask, alarmed. 

“Nothing. Just a nexus 8 that got the drop on me. I’m fine.”

“You're not fine, K. Let me help,” you urge. “Please.”

Several seconds drag by before he finally opens the door and you step inside. The bright lights of his apartment illuminating every scratch and bruise on his face. He never lets you see him like this, always patching himself up before he comes over. This is also the first time you are in his apartment and it’s hard to see how plain and spartan it is, completely devoid of any life.

K shows you where the first aid kit is and you set to work to clean him as he sits on the only chair he owns. You end up standing between his legs, tilting his head back to get a closer look at the wounds. He doesn’t react as you disinfect the shallow scrapes nor when you glue together the split skin on the side of his cheek. There’s more dirt and grime he’ll need to wash off on his own in the shower but for the most part you’ve cleaned and tended to his wounds. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” You question. 

He shakes his head, looking up at you. There is something in his gaze, some vulnerability you’ve never seen before that has you settling a hand on his shoulder to offer comfort instinctively. He exhales sharply and his hands come to rest on your hips. The skin of your chest tingles. You hold your breath when he leans forward and gently rests his head against your stomach. For a moment you’re frozen, feeling his body tremble against yours. Hesitantly, you touch the crown of his head, running your fingers through his short hair.

K makes a soft sound and rubs his cheek against your shirt. You repeat the action, feeling his hands slide around your back until he’s hugging you tightly, urging you closer to him. He smells of blood and sweat but underneath is a scent your brain identifies as simply him. It calms you and you stay like that, rubbing circles across his shoulders and scratching his scalp as he holds you close.

When he eventually pulls back to look at you, you stare down at him uncertainly. You’ve hugged him goodbye before and even taken hold of his arm when you’ve been out together, but this is something different. Intimate. 

“K…”

“Stay with me tonight,” he says so quietly you’re almost sure you’ve imagined it. “Please.”

“Okay,” you agree, the words slipping from your mouth before you’ve even processed them. You’d give him anything he asked for, you realize. 

“I need a shower first.”

You clear your throat and step away, watching him disappear into the bathroom. K’s quick, returning to you with damp hair and clean skin in a matter of minutes. You move back to let him pull down the bed, wrapping an arm over your stomach as you watch the muscles of his arm flex. There are a few more bruises and cuts that were hidden by his long shirt and you reach out to run your fingers over them.

He looks at you over his shoulder. “It looks worse than it is,” he assures you. 

You nod, unsure what exactly he wants. So little of K’s life is up to him that you’re always careful to make space for him to decide things. What to eat, when to touch and even what to watch on the evenings you sit in front of the tv with him. When you look up, K is watching you with those steady blue eyes.

“If you don’t want to stay…”

“No,” you promise him, stepping closer. “I… wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

“Just lay down with me. Sleep.” He says, climbing onto the bed and extending his hand. You let him pull you down with him, fitting his body closely behind yours. His breath is warm over the back of your neck and you feel his hand settle on your hip. “Is this okay?” He asks. 

“Yes,” you whisper, blinking back the sudden wetness in your eyes.

It feels good to be held like this, to have another’s warmth wrap around you. You’re not even sure when the last time someone touched you like this was. Surely your parents must have, when you were little, but the harder you try to remember, the quicker it slips away. You’ve been alone for so long, working hard to make a better life for yourself that you’d forgotten how much you needed to be touched like this. You close your eyes when K tugs you even closer, his loose grip turning firm and you inhale deeply, letting the smell of him settle inside you as you commit this feeling to your memory. 

“You’re so warm, soft,” he mumbles. 

Tentatively, you reach for the hand at your hip, linking your fingers with his. You wait for any sign he doesn’t want your touch as you slowly draw his hand up towards your chest. You rest both your hands near your collarbone and relax when you feel his nose bump against the back of your neck as he pushes himself closer to you. K exhales and his fingertips stroke the soft skin of your chest.  

“Lights off,” he says quietly, darkness flooding the room.

The only light comes from outside his window, hazy neons and dingy yellows. It’s cool in the room but his body chases away the chill and you settle more firmly into him. Sleep comes surprisingly easily, pulling you under with each drag of K’s breath behind you. 

–

The cold predawn light wakes you. It’s still mostly dark in the apartment but as you blink the sleep from your eyes you realize you’re facing K. He’s still holding onto you tightly but sometime in the night you must have turned towards him. He looks so peaceful, the lines of his face relaxed in sleep. This close to him you can see the fine wrinkles around his mouth and the dark circles under his eyes. Your hand hovers over his jaw, wondering how his scruff there would feel. Would it be soft like his hair or something rougher against your fingertips?

You withdraw your hand and bring it back against your chest, continuing to watch K. His pale pink lips part and the hand on your hip twitches, a brief warning before suddenly his bright blue eyes are watching you. He looks confused for a second before a faint smile pulls at his lips. You return it, your heart suddenly picking up at his proximity. 

“Morning,” you offer quietly.

K watches you, but the look on his face is difficult to place. It’s almost blank, though you can see something building behind his eyes, some of the emotion he feels escaping. The hand at your hip rises to your face to stroke your cheek and down the side of your neck. You swallow heavily and his fingers press against your throat, feeling the movement. When he grasps your chin, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip, you shudder and he does it again.

Your eyes rise to meet his, seeing the rapid way they move over your face, taking in every reaction. When they drop to your lips you know what he wants and oh, you want it too even if you’re scared. Of things changing between you or getting this only to lose if he decides this isn't what he wants. K shifts forward and his thumb pulls your lower lip down. You feel paralyzed, scared but full of so much desire too. You tilt your head up and he leans forward, your lips touching.

It’s so soft, featherlight pressure but it surges through your body all the same. You reach between the two of you to grasp his t-shirt, anchoring yourself to him. Even though you want more, your body trembling with need, you wait. K groans and that new sound from him makes your skin tingle. You whisper his name against his lips and then he’s really kissing you. There isn’t an inch of space between your bodies, your chest pressing against his. The kiss is intense and you lean back, letting him take control and pry your lips apart. He sucks your tongue and his hand slides down to cup your ass.

You moan and that seems to spur him on. He shifts you effortlessly onto your back, the weight of him pressing you into the bed. An unfamiliar ache blooms between your thighs and your legs fall open to welcome him closer. Your hips lift of their own accord, seeking out something you’re not even fully aware you want. All you can think is you never want K to stop, the feelings his hands and mouth pull from you are exquisite…

When K draws away you chase his mouth. He brushes the hair back from your face and stares down at you in wonder. “You’re the first person I’ve wanted to do this with,” he tells you and oh, there’s so much in that he doesn’t say and your heart breaks for him. You rub his bicep and you blink up at him, your gaze unfocused. 

“I want you too,” you confess. “But… I’ve never-’ you start, the words dying in your throat. You’re embarrassed but he cups your jaw and watches you with a soft expression. Just like always, he seems to read what you don’t say. 

“That’s okay,” he promises you. “I know how to make you feel good. Do you want me to?”

You’re about to cross a line with him, one you know you can’t come back from. This isn’t just seeking pleasure and comfort, it’s something deeper. A commitment. “Yes,” you admit, lifting your head to kiss him again. He moans and squeezes your sides before crawling down your body. He pushes your loose sleep shirt up to reveal your stomach, trailing his lips over the soft skin he finds there before continuing further south. 

"I think about you all the time," he admits, kissing your thigh. "When I'm at work. When I'm at home. Even in my dreams," he continues, looking up at you through his golden lashes.

“I think about you too,” you confess, brushing your fingers over his head. 

You expect some fear or maybe anxiety but all you feel is safe and comforted when he encourages you to lift your hips and pulls down your underwear and pants. Your shirt and sleep bra comes next until you’re laid bare before him. He stares at you, brows raise with a look of awe on his face. He cups your breasts and then smoothes his hands down your flank. He pulls his own shirt off and your mouth goes dry at the sight of his toned body. His skin is littered with scars and bruises but he’s beautiful. You reach out for him, running your fingers along the line of his shoulder, feeling him shiver.

K dips his head, the touch of his mouth to your most intimate part beyond what you ever could have imagined. He draws pleasure from you as easily as you draw breath. You sigh and gasp, tugging on the short strands of his hair as he learns your body. You feel almost dizzy when the dam breaks and joy washes under your skin. He doesn’t stop until he has wrung every last drop and you fall back against the bed, breathless. He crawls up to kiss you, mouth warm and sure, anchoring you to him and this moment. 

It’s easy to open yourself up to him, to let him pour himself into you over and over again. Pain comes and fades out, each kiss and whispered promise makes your body soft and pliant for him. You draw him close, his jaw warm and firm as you map his face with your hands. Dawn breaks over the city, flooding the room with golden hues and K looks like an angel above you, haloed by light. 

You stare into his blue eyes as you climb higher and higher together. You don’t need words here, just him and the way he moves above you and inside you. He almost looks anguished as he strains and pants, pressing his forehead to yours. You hold tightly to him, eyes sliding closed as something beautiful unfurls inside and everything goes quiet. 

You come back to yourself slowly, encouraged by the soft drag of K’s hands along your sides. He stares down at you, the open concern on his face a surprise. “I’m okay,” you promise him, feeling his body relax at your words.

He draws away only to lay down beside you and rest his head on your naked chest. Just like last night, he rubs his cheek against your skin and you curl an arm around his shoulder, feeling a tremor pass through your body. Physically you feel calm and relaxed but your mind buzzes with a hundred different emotions and feelings. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you begin, gathering the courage to say what you want. "But, I love you.” The words have lived inside you for a while and you know this is the time to speak them. It could be your only chance and you need him to know what he means to you. “You don’t have to say anything back… just know that I do.”

K shifts against you but he doesn’t speak. You squeeze your eyes closed and draw in a breath as your fingers continue to stroke his bare back. When you turn your head to look out the apartment window you see the dust particles caught up in the streams of morning light. You watch them float and fall, realizing K may never feel the same for you. Deep down, as much as it hurts, you think you can live with that. As long he knows he’s more than just a blade runner -or a thing- to you. He’s as human as any other man you know. 

You close your eyes and soak up his warmth and closeness. Even though you woke not long ago you're tired all over again, on the edge of sleep. You’re barely aware of the outside world, concentrating only on the feeling of K's fingers brushing over your hips.

"I love you too,” he whispers.

♡

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[sexhaver]

cannot even begin to imagine the Blade Runner cyberpunk shit this ladybug i found on my RGB keyboard was going through

[the-purest-wolf]

[ariveth]

[ lit ]  your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine . from eritvita <333

IT'S A SEEDIER HAUNT, one of the many she frequented though not her most preferred; but there are no questions asked here, no rules she need abide by, and no need to hide. Though she doubts she'll impress Roland very much with this subterranean den of knavery, as far as being able to spend time together while waiting out the bounty on her head, it would serve its purpose.

"Can't get the fuckin' burst right," Ariveth complains mostly to herself, slouching with her boots up on the tavern table while attempting to light the candle on her skooma pipe. She wouldn't admit a slight inebriation to be the reason why she can't summon the right intensity of flame at her fingertips that won't either fizzle out before it catches, or blaze out in an inferno that swallows both the pipe and the hand holding it.

When Roland steps up to the task, immediately and easily setting the wick alight with a single finger, dark red eyes flicker over him appreciatively. "Thank you, handsome."

Those same eyes slide back with that first puff, neck rolling before she puts her feet down and beckons him to bend toward her. "C'mere," she murmurs fondly, cupping his jaw and inhaling a fresh bout of smoke before smoothly letting it billow over and into his mouth; sealing it finally with a heated kiss. Her eyes flutter open as she releases him, flitting across his face; admiring, curious. "Wanna share?"

non-sexual acts of dominance memes

[glitterpeachtree]

Lars and the Real Girl Fic

Ever since Bianca "died" Lars has been having these episodes. Last night he woke us up by knocking (more like pounding) on our door around 2 am. He was in his pajamas and clutching his grey knitted blanket.

"Gus? Gus? I- I can't-" He could barely breathe. He was trembling, hyperventilating.

"Lars? What's wrong? Here let's get you inside, it's freezing." I guided him inside, Karin came down the hall, looking concerned. She constantly was worried about Lars.

"Gus? What's going on? What's wrong with Lars?" She asked as I tried to sit him down on the couch. He flinched away from my hands, like it hurt or something. He was looking pale now, he was worried that Lars might pass out.

"I can't, I can't breathe." He gasped.

"Lars, just sit down. Are you hurt?" Karin asked.

"Bianca." Was all he made out. He finally sat down on the sofa. Karin came back with a glass of water. Lars loved Bianca. It was the only thing Lars could really connect to. Even when Lars and I were kids, he always seemed... Disconnected.

"Just breathe. Here sip some water." Karin tried to hand him the glass, but he was too shaky to really hold it on his own. I knelt down next to him, while Karin sat next to Lars on the couch. Lars put his back against the sofa, and rested his head on the top of the couch, closing his eyes. He eventually drew in a deep breath.

"Lars, that's good. Do that again. Slower breaths." I said. He took another deep breath. It took about 10 minutes for Lars to relax.

"Here, why don't you lie down. I'll be right back with a pillow and blanket." Karin got up and walked to the linen closet. Lars put his head on the sofa's arm rest, and put his knees up to his chest. He wiped his tears and Karin came back and draped the blanket over him. He fell asleep within 5 minutes.

"Karin. What do we do?" I put my hands on my hips.

"I think we need to get him help again" she sighed.