Quiet Lotus Heart Seeds

Sanctuary w/ Suguru Geto 18+ NSFW

(angst, toxic, cult AU)

You didn’t go looking for salvation.

You went because you were tired of being good.

They told you stories about Suguru being a traitor. A murderer. A cult leader. But they never told you how hard it was to live in a world that continuously broke people like you down and called it order.

You tracked him down, not for answers but for the ache beneath your ribs. The one you felt when you saw the exhaustion in his eyes before anyone called treason. When you heard the grief in his silence long before he walked away.

The temple was quiet. Not eerie but reverent. The open-air walls, the incense smoke hanging low, the wooden floors faded by bare feet—There were no curses there. No guards. Just a strange sense of peace that unnerved you more than violence ever could.

He was there, sitting cross-legged on a mat. Shirtless and calm as though he’d been waiting. His hair spilled down like he forgot what time meant. He looked exactly how you feared he would: beautiful in the way that wreckage sometimes was.

A single incense stick burned between his fingers, smoke curling lazily around his wrist.

“You made it,” he spoke, as if it was a reunion. Like it was fate.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You crossed your arms.

He smiled—tired, not triumphant. “Still sharp, I see.”

~~~

You meant to stay for an hour but you end up staying longer than you expected.

The others didn’t ask questions. They prayed, they smiled, they listened. It was strange, like a family built out of shared delusion and broken hearts.

You slept near the exit, but you watched him through the dark.

He never reached for you. He waited. He watched you like a mirror he was trying not to break. He never touched you. Never told you what to believe. But when he spoke, your throat tightened.

“The system you loved was never meant to love you back.”

You hated that you believed him.

II

It wasn’t love. Not yet atleast.

It was something else. Hunger. Not for his body but for something deeper—something ancient, electric. Something only he seemed to speak aloud. The truth.

You sat in on his sermons and listened to the way he told the others that they were enough. That they deserved rest and that they didn’t have to be used as weapons. You hated that. How deeply it resonated.

~~~

You found him lighting incense in the main hall at night. His sleeves were rolled up. His hands were steady.

You knew that you shouldn’t have been there but you stepped closer.

“Why this? Why them?” you asked, voice brittle. “You could’ve burned the whole thing down.”

He doesn’t look up.

“Because fire just kills. I wanted to make something… beautiful. Even if it’s wrong.”

You say nothing in response. You felt his words settle in your ribs like smoke.

And when he finally turned to you, the moment stretched—fragile and sharp. Your hands brushed briefly. Maybe it was accidental. Maybe It wasn’t. But neither of you pulled away.

~~~

It became a ritual.

You sought him out like your body had forgotten how to resist.

And he gave you nothing but presence. He watched. He waited. He didn’t demand a thing—he just was. And somehow, that was worse than if he’d begged.

You were afraid of what you were starting to crave.

The next day, he knelt in the prayer hall, offering silence to the gods he no longer believed in. You stood beside him, eyes half-closed, the scent of sandalwood threading through the air like static.

You thought about leaving every morning. You never do.

You kept telling yourself it’s because you’re studying him. Measuring the depth of the fall.

But the truth was, you were already in it.

III

You opened his door without knocking.

He was standing shirtless at the window, incense trailing from the corner of the room, the curtain open to the moonlight and the pool below. The air was heavy, sweet, aching.

“I need you to stop looking at me like that,” you whispered.

“Like what?” he murmured, voice rough.

“Like I’m something you can keep.”

He moved closer. Didn’t try to touch you. Just looked. And you hated how much you wanted it—his hands, his voice, the heat in his gaze that made your knees weak.

“Then tell me to stop,” he said.

And maybe you could’ve. If he didn’t look so wrecked beneath the calm. If your body didn’t betray you the second his fingers ghosted up your spine.

“You think I don’t know what I am?” he whispered. “You think I don’t hate it?”

You pressed your palm to his chest. His heart was beating like a war drum beneath your hand.

“Then touch me like it means something.”

He was on you like a man starved, mouth crashing into yours, fingers digging into your hips. The kiss was messy and desperate. But it still held some softness, as if he was trying not to lose control.

He undressed you slowly. Like he was memorizing the shape of you in case this really was the last time.

His mouth found your neck, your collarbone, the soft skin under your ribs. Everywhere but where you ached. He made sure you asked. Not to be cruel, but because he needed to hear it.

“Say it,” he whispered, breath ragged.

“I want you,” you choked out. “I want you even if I shouldn’t.”

He continued downwards, mouth finding between your legs, and licked like he was making a vow. His tongue moved slow, groaning into you like tasting you was a blessing. You fisted his hair, thighs trembling, the pleasure crawling up your spine like a confession.

“Suguru—don’t stop—please—”

“Say my name again,” he demanded, voice raw. “Say it like you need me.”

“Suguru,” you whimpered, coming apart in his mouth, legs tightening around his head.

He climbed over you, sweat-slicked and hard, eyes black with need. You reached down, wrapped your fingers around his cock and guided him in.

He slid into you like he was claiming something sacred. One hand braced beside your head, the other tangled in your hair.

It wasn’t rough—but it wasn’t gentle either. There was a fever to it. A silent plea in every thrust.

“You hate me,” he gasped, forehead pressed to yours.

“I do,” you breathed, tears prickling your eyes. “But I love you more.”

He groaned, hips stuttering, forehead still pressed to yours. The bed creaked under you both as he thrusted, deep and relentless, grinding in so your bodies met again and again.

Your nails dug into his back as your thighs locked around him. You came undone first with a breathy moan and your body arched into him. He followed shortly after, with your name in his mouth like it was the last prayer he’d ever say.

After, he kissed your knuckles like an apology. Like a farewell.

“I don’t deserve you,” he stated softly, voice cracking.

“No,” you whispered. “But I still want you to try.”

~~~

Author’s note: this song was stuck in my head for so long and I immediately had to write a fanfic with the same vibe (i know its about cheating but wtv lol) hope yall enjoyed! <3

Road Trip w/ Kento 18+ NSFW

The hum of the tires on the highway had become monotonous—and you were bored out of your mind.

“Are we there yet?” you asked, allowing your head to lay against the window.

Kento raised an eyebrow, eyeing the stretch of green rolling past the windows. “Not entirely, no.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a getaway,” you muttered. “You know, fun. Spontaneous.”

From the driver’s seat, Kento gave you a sidelong glance over his glasses.

“It is a getaway,” he said with a slight chuckle. “We’ve been on the road for three hours, haven’t run into a single curse, and the traffic’s been ideal. I fail to see what part of this isn’t enjoyable.”

You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Can we at least put on some music? I’m tired of listening to some guy rambling about greek philosophers.”

He sighed, “As you wish but I did allow the auto drive for your comfort. Isn’t that spontaneous enough?”

Your grin was slow. Dangerous. “So you’re not technically driving right now?”

“No. I’m monitoring—why are you smiling like that?”

Your hand slowly creeped across the console until your hand found the inside of his thigh.

“Y/n.” Kento said firmly, his expression unchanging. Kento rarely unraveled easily.

You ignored his voice, fingers sliding upward, teasing the seam of his trousers.

“I’d advise against your suggestive movements.” Kento’s jaw tightened, his eyes still glued to the road.

“Oh come on,” you purred. “I’m just making this trip a bit more interesting.”

“You mean you’re doing something illegal while in a moving vehicle?” Kento asked coolly, though his hand twitched on the wheel. “Because I can assure you, that’s not—”

“Illegal? No.” Your hand was now palming the growing bulge. “Inappropriate? Definitely.”

“Not in public,” he murmured, already losing some of the steel in his tone.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “But it’s not really public, is it? No one can see in. No cameras. And you’re not even driving.”

His jaw clenched. His pants tightened further beneath your hand. You unbuckled your seatbelt with a click and shifted yourself to get better access.

“You’re insatiable,” he muttered, voice hoarse.

You grinned as your hand toyed with his zipper. As you tugged it down, Kento didn’t resist or flinch as you pulled him free from his boxers. He was hard and already twitching in your hand. The contrast between his restraint and your shamelessness made heat curl in your belly.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock, slow and teasing. He inhaled through his nose—sharply—but said nothing.

“Eyes on the road, Nanami,” you teased, voice breathy.

He was already squirming in his seat, thighs tense, and his hands gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life.

Your mouth closed over him, slow and wet, taking him in inch by inch while the car hummed quietly around you. The thrill of the open road, the sun dipping low over the horizon, and the absolute obscenity of your position made you moan softly around him.

He hissed at the vibration. You took your time, teasing and pushing him to the edge.

“God,” he murmured. “You’re going to kill me.”

One of his hands found your hair, threading through gently at first but his grip tightened every time you took him all the way. Kento bit back his moans and simply grunted, still conscious of the fact that you were both in a moving vehicle.

You pulled back just enough to speak, lips slick, eyes bright with mischief. “I want you to come in me.”

Kento groaned lowly as his thighs trembled ever so slightly. You sat back up and took off your panties.

“Y/n, please. Not here,” Kento’s voice wavered, watching your every move.

You simply bit your lip, “Recline your seat for me.”

Kento hesitantly complied, completely entranced by the moment. You swung your leg over him and positioned your already wet center above his drooling tip.

Kento swallowed, almost shaking from anticipation and a bit of fear. You sank down onto him slowly, gasping at the stretch. Kento’s hands settled on your hips—firm, but not demanding. Controlled. Like he was holding himself back.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, his brows drawn together as he watched you ride him. Not a single word left his lips.

“You’re too quiet,” you whispered, leaning forward to kiss his neck. “Don’t tell me you’re unaffected.”

“I’m not unaffected,” he replied, voice low and steady. “I’m trying not to lose control in a moving vehicle.”

You smiled against his skin, amused by the way he said it so calmly—while his cock throbbed deep inside you, and his fingers tightened minutely every time you ground down just right.

“Why fight it?” you murmured, starting to move in slow, deliberate rolls. “Just give in.”

He shook his head once, eyes flicking to the road as if that would save him. “You have no patience.”

“And you have too much,” you teased, circling your hips again. “Let me wear you down.”

Kento didn’t respond—but his jaw clenched, and his grip on your waist grew firmer. He was still so maddeningly composed, even as you clenched around him, already slick and aching. You loved the way he held it all in and you loved breaking him down, piece by piece.

You reached between your bodies and stroked your clit, moaning softly as you bounced just a little harder, the wet sounds between you unmistakable now in the quiet car.

“You feel so good,” you breathed. “I wanna make you come so badly.”

Kento drew in a deep, shaky breath. “You need to stop talking like that.”

“Why?” you asked sweetly, cupping his face so he’d look at you. “Is it turning you on?”

Kento’s head tipped back against the seat with a dull thud, jaw tight, hands gripping your thighs like they were the only things tethering him to reality.

You leaned forward, your chest brushing his as you rode him harder now, chasing that perfect rhythm. His hands slid up your back slowly, then down again, finally resting just above your ass. Still not pulling you down, not guiding you. Just there.

“You’re killing me,” he murmured, voice tight.

You kissed him then—soft, slow, and deep—and it was that kiss that finally cracked him. His hands grabbed your hips, grounding you as he began to thrust up into you, sharp and deliberate.

“Keep going,” he said quietly. “Don’t stop.”

You moaned into his mouth, your hands braced on his chest, letting him take the reins now, letting him fuck up into you with control and focus—but his breathing was starting to hitch, his rhythm faltering as you clenched and pulsed around him.

“Give it to me” you whispered. “Please.”

Kento groaned—barely—but you felt it more than heard it, his whole body tensing as he came deep inside you. His arms locked around your waist, holding you close as he rode it out in silence, only the sound of his heavy breathing and the car engine filling the space.

You collapsed against him, breathless and flushed, heart pounding.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re insane.”

You smirked. “And you’re impossible to break. But I’ll keep trying.”

Glowing beast

David Allen Hulse, The Eastern Mysteries—An Encyclopedic Guide to the Sacred Languages & Magickal Systems of the World

a distinguished gentleman

love this!

You’re uncomfortable being by yourself, and it’s ruining your life.

We’re all human beings, and it’s in our nature to crave interaction. To yearn for hour-long talks and constant messages. And this is normal, it’s perfectly fine. We all experience it. 

Problem comes when it reaches a point where you can’t survive without it. When your social media becomes the centre of your life, and you can't stop checking/refreshing/posting in hopes of getting some more of that sweet, fresh interaction. When you can’t sit for 5 minutes without needing to talk to someone.

You’re uncomfortable with being by yourself. Don’t get it? Let me rephrase. You are not able to sit in your own mind and be content. You can’t be alone with your thoughts, and this trouble comes when all your thoughts are inherently negative. When all your thoughts are about how you look, all alone and pathetic. About your appearance or something embarrassing that made you feel bad.

“Aeryne— how do I combat that?”

Well…

Be okay with being boring. Be okay with your thoughts going to “what am I going to have for lunch” or “that movie I watched was really interesting, let’s think about a scene I liked” Be okay with your thoughts being absolutely mundane.

Start observing. I’m sure you’ve seen babies or little children. They give you that thousand yard stare sometimes, because they’re always observing. We live in a life of stimulation, that doesn’t need to be your phone or your social media. Look at the colour of that wall, guess how fast that car is going. Fill up your time with some good old observations.

Get used to the fact that being alone is okay. And that no one else’s thoughts should affect yours. If someone thinks sitting alone = pathetic, loner, disgusting, I think they’re in for a rude awakening that life isn’t a 2005 coming of age movie. 

Now that we’ve changed your mentality a little, let me talk about the beauty of being solitary. The way of being alone.

Being alone, and having “me” time is so wonderful. God- being able to think about myself, and only myself? Not worrying about how my replies sound to others? My tones in speech? Glorious. When you’re alone, you have no one else to appease or listen to. Only yourself, so listen.

Woah- did you realise that? You can actually hear your thoughts. In this world of action, my mind is detached from all that hustle and bustle. There’s no one else’s thoughts or words filling up my logical reasoning. Just my own. 

Treasure your time with yourself. Realise what I’ve told you, apply it and you’re going to be comfortable with being by yourself. Here’s a personal challenge, if you can:

—Turn off all your notifications for an hour.

—Observe your surroundings.

—Listen to the thoughts, appreciate them.

thank you for listening, sweet ones.

xoxo,

Saint Aeryne 

Types of meditation

1. Mindfulness meditation: Focus on your breath or a specific sensation, bringing your attention to the present moment.

2. Loving-kindness meditation: Cultivate feelings of love and compassion towards yourself and others.

3. Transcendental Meditation: Repeat a mantra to achieve a state of relaxed awareness.

4. Body scan meditation: Direct attention to different parts of your body, releasing tension and promoting relaxation.

5. Zen meditation (Zazen): Sit in a specific posture, focus on your breath, and observe thoughts without attachment.

6. Guided meditation: Follow a recorded or live guide's instructions for visualization and relaxation.

7. Vipassana meditation: Develop insight by observing bodily sensations and thoughts with non-reactive awareness.

8. Yoga nidra: A state of conscious relaxation achieved through guided meditation while lying down.

9. Chakra meditation: Focus on energy centers in the body, visualizing and balancing them.

10. Mantra meditation: Repeat a word, phrase, or sound to quiet the mind and enhance concentration.