β You can call me Luan (they/he). I'm a moth trying to build a home under a lamplight. This is an archive for my art and some of the things that inspire me.
β You might also know me from my old vkei blog @akirag3
β Feel free to visit my Ao3, my art Instagram, or check out my playlists
β Masterlist
β Do knock on my door any time, we can talk over some hot chocolate. I'm always open and willing to interact!
β I'm strongly against generative AI. You can be sure it has not been used in any of my pieces. Please do not train any LLMs on my art.
β English is my second language, bear with me. I also speak spanish and am learning german and japanese.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Don't you try to run right now
Cause baby I could burn you down
(Ko-fi request: Daaku - If you like this art, please consider sending a tip to my kofi)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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βA loveless world is a dead world, and always there comes an hour when one is weary of prisons, of one's work, and of devotion to duty.β
Commission for @cedresterling.bsky.social
Yes it did. I just let it slide because I was taught that I'm "too sensitive" anytime something bothered me. But now I'm finally standing up for myself.
"You never struggled with this when you were a kid."
Yes I did. I just burned myself out in order to do it so I wouldn't be punished. But now I'm accepting myself enough to not force myself to do what I was never meant to do.
"You didn't have these problems when you were younger."
Yes, I did. I just spent my child/teen years with structured institutions like school while not having to worry about whether I had a roof over my head or food to eat and spent my early adult years using up every bit of adrenaline I will ever have to ignore the fact that I've been chronically burnt out my whole life.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Gilbert Baker helps hoist one of the two original rainbow flags created by the decoration committee for San Francisco Gay Freedom Day | 1978 | ph: James McNamara, lead seamster of the flags
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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β΅ fluff, one shot, established relationship, my usual aku-related angst; reader isn't associated with the mafia
β΅ Reader takes care of his stubborn ass when he comes home after a long night
"Welcome home!" You greet Akutagawa, to which he ruffles your hair and drags his feet inside. You ask if he wants a sandwich, the midnight snack you prepared to share with your partner, but he doesn't answer.
You bring him one anyways, and sit down beside him on the carpeted floor to eat it. Not on the bed, not yet.
He mentally scolds himself. Once again, he's brought the ghosts and the bloodshed with him to the house, he's let the darkened mirrors reflecting all his failures gaze upon you.
"How was your day?" He drawls, sighing heavily as his hands remove his coat, the thick fabric pooling around him as he sheds the burden of violence from his body.
He listens to you while he removes his work clothes. He pays as much attention to the thudding of his boots and the aches in his body as he does to the timbre of your voice and your anecdotes.
Once Akutagawa has stripped down to his pants and bandages, he stands up to look for clean clothes to change into. You follow him with your gaze, going on with whatever story you had to tell, knowing better than to ask where he got hurt today.
There are new bruises on his ribs, a half-scabbed cut on his arm, he's hunching a little.
"Did you clean that?" You ask, pointing to the wounds with your finger. He hesitates too long to say yes, scowls at you as if pleading not to be bothered about it. He doesn't want to face what happened at work today.
You make him face it anyways, even though he's told you too many times not to ask about it: "With the mafia, the less you know, the better."
He chews on his sandwich while you clean his skin with iodine, makes a conscious effort to push aside the voice that reminds him of his weakness so he can properly take in your kindness.
He lowers his arm before you can finish securing the bandage on his torso, too impatient to wait for a kiss. His kisses are always rough, like his voice, like he loves, unable to understand why you do what you do for him but terrified to lose you regardless.
He tugs your lower lip between his like you'll run away, holds your jaw like it'll break if he presses too hard. He still smells of gunpowder and iron, and it makes you dizzy, makes you lean into him even more. He'll hold you up, even if all his bones are broken, he'll hold you tight.
You pull back just enough to get the words out. "Ryuu, I'm not going to bed if you don't let me finish patching you up."
He sighs, steals one last, chaste, kiss from your lips, and straightens up again so you can finish your work.
"Thank you, love."
β΅ Wrote this after pulling an all-nighter, sorry if it's a bit rough
β΅ Title from: Jaws by Sleep Token
β΅ Divider by @viviansturns
β΅ No AI was used in the creation of this fanfic.
