Cinder-stella - Vibin’

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.

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

In Too Deep w/ Satoru 18+ NSFW

(best friends to lovers)

You weren’t sure what made you put on the extra bit of lip gloss or the bikini that hugged your curves just right. You even did your hair. Subtle perfume. It wasn’t like this was a date. Just another hangout with Satoru—your best friend, your pain in the ass, the guy who once saw you eat half a pizza in your underwear and still dared to call you “pretty girl”.

The one who’d seen you at your worst—half-asleep with tangled hair and mismatched socks, drunk off two cocktails. The one who you had been through everything with. From the petty arguments about him carelessly hurting himself or that one time when your ex-boyfriend cheated on you and he held you all night as you sobbed into his chest.

So when you stepped through the glass doors to his backyard, and he turned around—lounging poolside like a model in a ridiculous pair of sunglasses and smugness dripping off his grin—why did your heart start hammering in your chest?

“Whoa.” His voice dropped low as he sat up. “You clean up nice.”

You rolled your eyes, heat prickling your skin in places that had nothing to do with the sun. “Oh please. You’re just not used to seeing me put in effort.”

Satoru smirked. “So you did try. Interesting.”

You snorted and dropped your bag, walking past him and feeling his gaze trail behind you like the sunlight on your skin. “Try not to drown in your own ego, ‘Toru.”

But he didn’t stop watching. Even as you slid into the pool, letting the water wash the nerves away, you felt his stare—and something in it had changed.

The water was blissfully cool against your heated skin as you slipped in. Satoru followed with a loud splash, flinging water at you like a kid. It was easy to fall back into the rhythm of your friendship: teasing splashes, random grabs, jokes, the occasional glances that lingered too long. He drifted closer, inch by inch, like the pull of gravity was just stronger between you in the water.

“I didn’t know you were so weak,” he teased as you lunged at him again.

You hooked your arms around his neck with a grin. “I’m conserving my energy, obviously.”

He grinned as he grabbed your waist and pulled you under for a second before bringing you back up, water cascading down both your faces.

Then he started moving toward the deep end—fast. You stiffened the moment you felt your toes lose touch with the bottom.

“Wait—wait, ‘Toru, I can’t—”

He stopped instantly, letting you cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. One of his hands slid under your thigh to keep you steady, the other resting warm against your lower back.

“Relax, I’ve got you.” he said softly, eyes uncharacteristically gentle as you clung to him. “You okay?” he asked, softer now.

You nodded, but your voice came out small. “Yeah. Just forgot how deep it gets.”

“Lucky for you,” he said, standing with the water at chest level, “I’m annoyingly tall.”

You snorted, but your laughter faded. You were suddenly hyperaware of how close his body was, how your chest pressed against his, how his strong hands didn’t move an inch too far but definitely not far enough.

“You’re staring,” Satoru’s voice dropped a little, playful still—but something deeper laced beneath it.

“So are you.”

He didn’t answer. The silence stretched, warm and tense.

“I really wanna kiss you,” you broke the silence before you could stop yourself.

Satoru blinked slowly, and then—very deliberately—tilted his head and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed—not at first. His lips moved over yours like he was memorizing you, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him. Your arms tightened around him, and he groaned softly into your mouth as the kiss deepened, hands sliding under your thighs to hold you tighter.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, half-floating and half-pressed to each other, but eventually, he pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured.

“Then take us somewhere softer to die.”

His laugh was low, rough. Without another word, he started walking—still carrying you, cradled to his chest like you weighed nothing. You blinked, surprised. “You’re really—”

He smirked. “Yup.”

You barely registered the door opening behind his shoulder, the sunlit bedroom welcoming you in. Large windows gave a perfect view of the shimmering pool, your damp skin glistening in the filtered light as he laid you back on his bed, hovering over you with a hunger barely restrained.

Satoru looked down at you like he was seeing heaven.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, voice low. “Too many damn times.”

Your fingers skimmed over his abs, trailing lower. “Then stop thinking.”

His mouth crashed into yours again—hotter now, needy. He tugged the ties of your bikini loose one by one, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second.

Your back arched as his lips traced a wet path down your neck, teeth grazing your collarbone. He kissed the swell of your breast before taking one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue until you whimpered beneath him.

“You sound so fucking pretty,” he whispered, switching sides.

His hand dipped beneath your bikini bottoms, fingers finding you soaked and aching. You gasped when he rubbed slow circles over your clit, teasing and light.

“Been wanting you like this for so long,” he murmured. “I can’t believe you’ve been right in front of me, looking at me like that, and I didn’t do anything.”

“Do something now,” you challenged.

He groaned, deep and raw, then sat up to slide your bottoms off completely. You watched as he shed his own swim trunks, his cock already hard, thick and so ready.

He stroked himself once, then leaned over you again, voice a rasp against your ear. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want it. Badly.” you breathed.

He groaned, dragging his cock along your folds before easing in—slow, smooth, thick enough to make your breath catch.

“Shit,” he whispered, burying his face in your neck. “You feel so good.”

And for a while, neither of you said anything—just the sound of skin, breathing, and the creak of the bed under the slow, deep rhythm of his hips.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was everything you didn’t know you’d needed.

And when you came—clinging to him, legs still wrapped tight like they had been in the pool—he was right there with you, eyes locked on yours, like he didn’t want to miss a second.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, kissing you again. “Hold onto me.”

You did. You held him like he was the only thing keeping you from sinking.

And maybe, in a way, he was.

Afterward, he collapsed beside you, dragging you onto his chest, both of you sticky and grinning like idiots.

You traced patterns over his ribs and muttered, “So, uh... still best friends?”

He laughed. “Best friends who do this? Hell yeah.”

You giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo kissed your forehead, pulling the sheet over both of you.

“And yet... you keep coming back.”