despite your knowledge on how transformations come to be, it never crossed your mind that one could occur because of gwylan. needless to say, this only brings you closer to him
m!gwylan x gn fox tf!reader | mdni, 4.1k wc, penetration, unprotected sex, breeding kink, knotting, fluff, not beta read
note: i need that gwydick inside me
masterlist read on ao3
Three weeks and two days. Gwylan has gone three weeks, two days, and fifteen hours without seeing you—and no, it isn’t because of his avoidance of intimacy, surprisingly. Those days are somewhat behind him now that you’ve torn down all his walls with your infuriating (endearing) persistence.
This is simply too cruel of you. You’re more addicting to him than the sweet nectar of the plant people he tends to, how can you so abruptly pull away after giving him a taste of everything he’s been yearning for? There’s a never–ending anxiety in his mind whispering into his ears at all times telling him that you’ve left him for good. The only solace he has is the knowledge that your life is full of chaos. You’ve gotten wrapped up in life many times, but you’ve always returned and told him all your stories.
To your credit, the first week of your disappearance wasn’t your fault at all, but the fault of a hysterical Kylar prodding at your recent changes.
Yes, recent changes. Because why in the world have you suddenly grown a soft tail and pair of ears resembling that of a fox? You know that Gwylan also has these traits, but it never occurred to you that they could spread to you. Does he also have some kind of magical property in his cum like the rest of the wildlife in the forest? How ridiculous!
Being away from him for so long feels like torture. Home is wherever he is; you have a bad case of homesickness. There’s a Gwylan–shaped hole in your heart that you’re eager to fill now that you’re free.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder, the forest is even more beautiful than you remember. Flowers always beg for an admirer, and the birds for a listener. You’re more than happy to fulfill their wishes as you make your way home.
After twirling a flower in your hand and whispering an apology for pulling it from the Earth, you start plucking each petal.
“He loves me.”
Pluck. Images of the first kiss he has ever initiated with you drift to your mind.
“He loves me not.”
Pluck. What about the time you asked him to say I love you back and he responded with: I’ve lied to you enough?
“He loves me.”
Pluck. Your collar feels warm—the same one he crafted specifically for you, the same one that keeps you safe from some of the advances of others.
“He loves me not.”
Pluck. Well. Is there any reason to doubt his love for you other than the fact he can’t directly say it to you?
“He loves me.”
You pluck the final petal off as you arrive. It’s a childish and inaccurate way to get an answer, but the result fills you with happiness regardless.
The shop’s wooden door opens on its own with a loud creak as a way of eagerly greeting you. With all the clattering noises coming from inside, you get the impression that furniture is being scrambled around. A sweet smell drifts over to you the second you step in, one so thick it feels like it’s enveloping you whole and sweeping you off your feet. You stand there in a daze, heart thumping wildly beneath your ribcage.
When you come back to reality, you’re on your back with a familiar figure hovering over you. It’s none other than your—
Master!
“There you are.” His cheeks are flushed, he’s barely managing to restrain himself from putting you into a mating press right then and there. “Where have you been, dear? I’ve been waiting for you, the shop’s been so lonely without your sweet stories.”
Your insides are burning with a flame that can only be put out by him. Being around him has always made you feel dizzy, but it’s never been this strong before without the help of the hallucinogens he uses during his rituals. “Gwylan, I—”
“I know.”
“But how?”
“You smell different. In the past, you’ve entered my shop sharing the traits of wolves, cats, birds, cows, and yet…I think this is my favorite. Don’t be shy, show yourself to me.”
Resisting him is no easy feat now that you’re this lost in him. Your ears and tail immediately appear out of thin air.
His legs kick behind him, he’s clearly giddy. “So, how did this happen?”
“From having so much sex with you! How else could it have happened?”
“Ah.” Gwylan isn’t surprised in the slightest, and he doesn’t have an ounce of shame either. “Seems my pet has a bit of an attitude today. I’m the one who should be irritated, you owe me an explanation for disappearing on me.”
“Did you miss me?”
He stares back at you in unsettling silence. There’s no shift in his eyes—not one of surprise or agreement—and it makes your heart drop to your stomach. There have been so many conversations between the two of you where he reminds you that what he has for you isn’t love, and that you’re not the first to harbor his affections. If he can’t say I love you to you, he can at the very least say that he missed you.
As he continues to say nothing, you look away in shame. Trying to put on a poker face is futile when your ears give you away by turning downcast.
Gwylan, on the other hand, is completely exasperated. Did he miss you? What kind of a question is that? Did he not just pounce on you? Do you need everything to be said to you? He holds you so dearly to his heart that it would crumble if you didn’t come visit from time to time. In the grand scheme of things, after all the loss in his previous lifetimes, three weeks is basically nothing. He can bear the pain but is by no means unaffected by it.
Before you can tell him to forget it, he leans in and captures your lips into a kiss that soothes the sting of rejection you had felt just now. White roses fill your vision, the brightness of them make your descent into an abyss of questions feel like a heavenly experience. It isn’t until he pulls away that you feel the need to breathe.
He averts his gaze away from you as rosiness blossoms over his cheeks. “I missed you, of course I missed you. Didn’t I once tell you that I’d miss you if you were to stop coming around? So, don’t ever be late again.”
I missed you so much that the entire world seemed just as tainted as it was before I started cleansing it. I missed you so much that the shop covered the windows to stop me from looking out to check if you were coming. I missed you so much that it felt like I was drowning underneath the strongest of currents all alone.
Gwylan, of course, leaves this all unsaid. He tries so hard to act stern even though he wants nothing but to coddle you. “Now, explain.”
“The day I woke up looking like this, the first thing I tried to do was come home—I mean, to the shop. I unexpectedly ran into Kylar, or I guess that’s not unexpected because hello? It’s Kylar. Anyway, things escalated and I found myself under his basement again.”
Gwylan casts you an unimpressed glance but lets you continue.
“I think he was already prepared for me trying to escape after last time, so it was even harder this time and it took me longer. When I finally managed to get out, I hurried back to the orphanage and of course Bailey just had to be in the hallway at that time collecting everyone’s rent. I barely had enough money, and then I had to work as much as I could to make it all back and it…took a lot of time.”
“You’re forgiven, but you need to make it up to me.”
“Okay!”
At this, he finally breaks and giggles. “You’re not even going to ask what? Keep being so obedient and I’ll consider bringing your pet bed back out.”
“You took it away?” Hearing that upsets you, it’s the only bed you’ve ever felt safe sleeping on.
He chooses not to explain why, instead appeasing you by petting your head. You melt under his palm, whining blissfully as his attention turns towards your ears. The sound of calm ocean waves and some distant whispers are all you hear for an unknown amount of time.
Something pulls on your collar.
You’re completely naked in the garden, just like Gwylan (except for the large hat atop his head, like usual). A thin string of green light connects your collar to his index finger.
“Oh good, you’re back! Sit.”
You drop to your knees on the comfortable blankets. From this angle, you get a closer look at his erection. You’ve seen him naked so many times, but it never makes it any easier to not get hot and bothered. It’s not like he isn’t aware of his effect on you, given the seductive smile on his face.
Gwylan hums, satisfied. He rubs underneath your chin to give you a small treat before carrying on. “Good kit. Now, turn around. On your hands and knees.”
Your tail wags as you follow his instructions. You feel him get behind you and prep you with lube.
His quiet panting easily reaches your ears. As much as you hated being away from him, the knowledge that you’re able to make him so sexually pent-up that he sounds like this while simply touching you is exciting.
“I’d usually play with you some more but…forgive me, I don’t have much patience right now.”
Slowness and gentleness are a forgotten concept when lust goes unattended for too long, even more so when mating is part of your instincts.
You feel his fingers quickly draw something on your lower back, and the next second, he’s buried inside you. You’re just grateful there isn’t a headboard in front of you or you’d be at the risk of a concussion from the pace of his thrusts.
This is hardly the time to be as equally amused as you are aroused, but you can’t help it. You might as well speak your mind before all coherent thought slips from it. “Someone was pent-up.”
You can’t see it, but his tail beats in irritation. “This is your fault, dear. You…drive me mad.”
This is the same person who looked entirely unaffected the first time he had sex with you—stoic and calculated like it was purely for the sake of the ritual. Oh, how times change.
“It must’ve…ah!” It seems like he’s thrusting harder just for the sake of shutting you up, but it doesn’t work. “It must’ve been so hard without me.”
“Stop it.”
“Did you use the fox plushie I bought you to get off?”
His breath hitches and he immediately leans down to bite your neck, right beneath your collar. It always hurts when you don’t have a transformation, but at the moment, it feels like nothing more than a mark of love.
You try to apologize, but nothing comes out. It feels like trying to speak under water, just bubbles come out. In this case, the bubbles are moans and whines.
“Don’t be surprised, you were being rude. Consider it a time-out.”
It isn’t easy to make Gwylan lose himself during sex. Before he met you, he had held countless rituals on his own—and even then, the most he would do is let out a pleased sigh and feel his face flush during his act. Intimacy with you is an entirely different world altogether, a dream he painted as a nightmare for ages in order to make it seem unappealing. But with you, he has no control over his whines and yips that fill the forest.
He’s as passionate about you as an artist is with their creative outlet. His hands itch to be on you at all times, just like a musician with their instrument. He has every detail of your body committed to memory, just like a sculptor with their finished work.
You feel his desperation all over you. His hands are electrifying and practiced as they caress your body, the tips of his fingers dedicate more time to the places you have any kind of marks or scars.
You’re close already, it’s impossible to hold out when you’re with Gwylan.
But he always uses his knowledge of your reactions to his advantage. He comes to a stop immediately. “Not yet.”
He always does this, and yet it feels like a surprise every single time. No matter how much effort you put into trying to move your body back against him, it won’t budge. You look back at him, eyebrows knitting with frustration.
“Aww, that’s a mean glare you’re giving me! Where does my pet want it?” He places his hand on the curve of your ass. “Here?”
Mind melting with want, you quickly shake your head. There’s no other option but for him to come deep inside you, you won’t settle for anything less.
“Mm, here?” He leans down to tap on your lips.
You instinctively take his fingers into your mouth and briefly suck on them. Regardless, you shake your head again. “Mm–mm.”
“Really? What a shame, you’re awfully skilled with your tongue. What about…on your chest?”
“Ah…” Your nipples harden under his touch, pert and attentive to each swipe and tug. Another shake of head.
His palm slides down to your stomach and slowly makes its way to your pelvis. Your tail starts wagging immediately.
He whispers into your ear. “Do you want me to breed you?”
Just the thought makes your vision all starry. He once told you that foxes mate for life and now you understand. No one else will ever come close to eliciting the same thrill that he does. You want to take everything he has to give and be bound to him in every way possible. You want it so bad that you’d feel heartbroken if he denied you of it.
Just how long have you been nodding for that it has Gwylan giggling in between heavy breaths?
“Someone’s eager—I like it. Beg for it.”
The word please is replaced by a drawn-out whine.
“G-Good kit. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re full of my litter by the end of this.”
He resumes his pace and kisses you. The closeness is still so utterly terrifying to him—it feels so good, too good. If he lets himself be swept away by the feeling of your lips, he won’t be able to withstand all the emotions that come with it. He worked so hard to shield his heart with stone walls just for it to crumble so easily.
Each round reminds him of all the other ways he has had you in the past.
One. His head dipped between your thighs, the tug of his hand on your leash to keep your eyes on his. Tongue swiping all the way up so he can press gentle kisses on the most sensitive part of all. A deep flush spreading over his cheeks when you run your hands through his hair and pet his ears.
Two. The times during rituals where you’ve managed to overpower him both physically and mentally. Gwylan always has so much to say, but all that leaves his mouth when he’s on his back are yips and breathless demands for you to go faster. He submits oh so easily, turning into putty in your hands and quivering with pleasure.
Three. Pinning you down in the deeper parts of the forest after a fun chase. Pawing at your clothes and rutting against you like he can’t help himself, like he’ll die if he isn’t able to take you on the spot.
Four. Softly moaning each time his tip hits the back of your throat. He doesn’t stop stroking your head for even a second—how can he when you’re being such a good pet for your master?
“One more.”
Somewhere between the rounds, your ability to speak came back to you. Not that it was of much use, though.
“I can’t…” You weakly shake your head, on the verge of tears from the constant waves of pleasure. He has coaxed you through so many orgasms that all your limbs feel sluggish. “I really can’t anymore.”
Noticing that your arms are about to give out on you, he tugs on your leash to bring you up so he’s chest-to-back with you.
“Nonsense.” He flutters kisses all over the nape of your neck. “You’re strong, I know you are. Be good and give me one more.”
“But—ah!”
Your back arches as he resumes his pace. If it weren’t for his arm around your torso and his pull on your leash, you’d be face-down on the ground right now. You’re so full that some of his cum leaks out with each thrust, it makes you wonder how he has more left.
Reaching to hold onto his forearm, your nails dig into his skin just the way he likes it. “Gwylan…”
“There you go, let it out for me.”
There’s nothing you love more than listening to him. You let yourself sink into the ocean with him one final time—there are no thoughts of rising for breath or reaching the shore.
His lips are against yours and you taste salt. Are those his tears or yours? He brings you back down towards the ground. Your insides feel warm with each rope of cum he spills, but there’s something missing.
It isn’t until you regain your bearings that your bleary eyes suddenly widen and you frantically try to move away from him when you feel something else trying to force its way in. “W-Wait—”
It’s no use. Grabbing your hips, he holds you still and presses deeper until his knot is fully inside.
There’s the missing puzzle piece.
You let out a single cry, thighs still quivering from the orgasm you haven’t recovered from. Your head drops down onto your folded arms.
Panic washes over him at your abrupt silence. He made sure this wouldn’t be painful for you by drawing a shape on your back beforehand like he does every time he penetrates you. Or did he simply imagine himself doing so?
“Oh dear…does it hurt?”
“No.” You murmur shakily, sounding like you’re about to start sobbing any second now. Your tail swishes. This feels natural, things were always supposed to be like this. “I like it. I really like it. I just don’t understand how it happened.”
He came inside you multiple times, after all. How come this didn’t occur during all the other rounds?
“Don’t think too hard about it.”
There’s a lot about Gwylan that you don’t completely understand. “I’ve had one of your tentacles inside me before.”
His face reddens. “…Was there a point in you saying that? How do I get out of you?”
In spite of his complaint just now, he starts gently grinding against you, ears twitching as they pick up on your faint whimpers. Leaning down, he fishes one of your hands out and slots his fingers between yours.
“Are you in control of this? The…knot, I mean.”
“I try my best to hold back. Being with you again felt really good, though. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Don’t hold back anymore.”
He nuzzles against your shoulder. “I won’t.”
When his knot deflates and he pulls out, you turn over to face him, pulling him into a deep kiss that he immediately reciprocates. It doesn’t last very long, though—kisses never do with him, but you always cherish what you can get from him.
“Am I officially forgiven?”
“Of course, dear. You did so well!” He pats your head and helps you get up. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”
In the bath, you sit on Gwylan’s lap and cling onto him as he gently scrubs your body all over. You feel so safe in his presence that it’s hard to not doze off on the spot.
“I’m so happy.” The apples of your cheeks hurt from smiling.
“And why is that?”
“I already felt really close to you before so I didn’t think it was possible, but I feel even closer to you now. All the transformations I’ve had in the past were helpful in some ways, but the attention they brought was enough for me to always hide them. With this one, though…well, isn’t it all the better to love you with? I won’t hide it from now on.”
He blinks his tears away as soon as they start gathering in his eyes and pulls you into a tight hug. He truly doesn’t understand how a heart as kind as yours was drawn to him, he doesn’t feel worthy of it.
There’s so much he wants to say to you, so much he has to confess about his feelings towards you. He isn’t quite there yet, but he trusts you’ll be patient with him. “You have a beautiful way of thinking, dear. Never change. I can’t imagine not having you by my side.”
His words echo in your head like a catchy melody. Driven by instinct, you start lapping at his fox ears to groom him, content that his hat isn’t in the way now.
He’s completely flustered by the unexpected move and tries to shy away from it, though he knows he won’t have the heart to do so in the future—being groomed by his partner is a dream come true. “Stop that, I already cleaned them. Turn around and let me wash your tail.”
“Fine, fine…” You do as you’re told and face the other way.
He stares at the back of your head for a moment and gets even more emotional, just like a dog owner does when seeing the back of their dog’s head.
“You did a good job brushing your tail, I don’t feel any matted areas. What kind of shampoo have you been using on it?”
“Just the regular human kind. I figured you’d know more about how to care for it and I didn’t want to risk wasting any money since I was hiding my tail most of the time.”
“The shampoos and conditioners at the pet shop work well enough. Some brands are better than others, though. I can write you a list of them later along with which brushes to get. If you’re aiming for a sleeker look, though, you can always come to me. I’ve been working on making my own shampoos and oils over the years, I’d be more than happy to share them with you and teach you the recipes.”
A loud moan suddenly escapes you when he presses his fingers above the base of your tail.
“Sorry.”
He doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest.
“All done. You can turn around again, I want to get a proper look at you.”
It takes you a second to focus again, but you eventually turn back around.
His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. Once you obediently open your mouth for him, he prods at your sharp fangs. “I kept feeling them during our kisses and I…really liked it.”
His inspection continues until he’s finally satisfied, he stabilizes his breathing.
Worried, you ask, “what if I accidentally hurt you with them, though? Like when I’m—you know, when I’m…down there.”
“Silly pet, a little pain is nothing to me. And with enough practice, it won’t be an issue. You’re sweet for thinking of me, though.”
His gaze then goes to your ears.
He quietly whistles and watches them immediately perk up. When he speaks, it’s in an indecipherable language to you. Your ears remain facing forward, but they twitch a little and your head tilts to the side.
The more he stares at you, the faster your tail starts wagging, making the water slosh behind you.
“Now you’re just playing with me.” You grumble.
“You’re so cute, dear!” He pinches your cheek for a moment before bringing you in close, rubbing the side of his face against yours. “And very…very alluring.”
Even when he lets go, you lean back in, resting your head nice and snug atop his shoulder. Somehow, you feel ten times clingier than you were before.
He happily encourages your behavior, stroking your head and humming a tune to lull you to sleep. For a moment, the forest seems livelier—like it’s celebrating the sight of him with his cherished companion. The trees have witnessed all of his solitude-filled years, after all.
Forever may not be promised, but he truly has the greatest treasure in the world: you.
You betrayed Gwylan by not stopping Avery from going through with his ritual.
But that's okay. Gwylan betrayed you too—by taking away your freedom.
Warnings: dubcon, somnophilia, hypnosis, being held prisoner, yandere-ish Gwylan, what I imagine a soft bad end could be for Gwylan basically
I was highk super insecure about this one but it received good reception by a couple of others so I decided to post it! Smut is at the very end, I'm still getting used to it so idk if it's super great but fuck it! We ball!
Spoilers for Avery's Mansion and the Brown Fox questlines!
You weren’t sure where everything had started to go wrong.
Ever since Landry had asked you to thwart Avery’s plans and replace the wishing bones in his vault with replicas, your life had been upended—and that was saying something, considering all of the shit you had been through previously. You had survived plenty of unsavory places, had survived everything the Temple had put you through and the people that forced you to stay with them. It wasn’t even your first heist, having robbed the people on Danube Street with Wren before.
Compared to everything you had been through up until now, replacing the wishing bones should have been a piece of cake. You had a wonderful support system—Landry and Mickey were helping when they could, and you had your (lover? paramour?) closest friend masquerading as the Brown Fox—a masked vigilante—to help you make sure everything was going according to plan.
The plan had been simple. Avery clearly held an interest in you. You were supposed to entrance him enough to gain access to his mansion. That was easy enough, he had, after two months of going on weekly dates, had you move in with him.
Access to his mansion: done.
Next, you were supposed to find where the vault holding the wishing bones was. That was also easy enough. Avery was quick to show his true colors, and one day he had dragged you to his secret dungeon to be punished. It was there that you had seen the vault.
With the location of the vault known, breaking in should have been easy. You knew Avery’s schedule. You were proficient enough with your skulduggery that eventually you would have cracked the code to the vault. Gwylan—as the Brown Fox—had even offered to help pull off a heist. Surely, the two of you together could have broken into the vault within the hour. However, you kept dragging your feet. You kept telling Landry and Gwylan that you had everything under control. Things were going as planned.
For a while, everything felt normal. Avery may have bought you from the orphanage, but you held no romantic intentions towards him. He was a means to an end. Your mission. You followed Avery’s demands perfectly, slept with him when he demanded it, attended his parties and went on his dates. You went to school, you cleaned Avery’s mansion, and you tried to spend as much time with Gwylan as you could.
Amidst the chaos, Gwylan was your rock.
Your relationship with Gwylan was… peculiar. You had only met Gwylan about a year ago. You had freshly turned eighteen, and Bailey had begun demanding weekly payments from you, when you had stumbled into Gwylan’s shop. No matter what life and the people of this town threw at you, Gwylan was always there to listen. Most importantly, he listened without judging, something even your closest friend Robin couldn’t always do. Gwylan had been quick to become your new closest friend and confidant. He understood the way the world worked, and as you two had grown closer, you had begun to help him with his weekly ritual to purge the world of corruption.
Eventually, after some bumps in the road and ups and downs in your own relationship, you and Gwylan had become a thing (as much as he could allow—it was clear he had plenty of issues he needed to work through).
Things could have been good. You could have accepted Gwylan’s help to replace the stones. Avery wouldn’t have been allowed to go through the ritual, and you’d still be your own person.
Oftentimes, you wondered what life would have looked like, had you stopped Avery. Gwylan had set out a bed for you—sure, you would have probably gone back to owing Bailey money, but you’d have a safer place to stay. It’d be better than Avery’s mansion. Besides, you had a feeling Gwylan would have your back if Bailey was stupid enough to come out to Gwylan’s shop to demand payment from you.
You would have been free from Avery’s grasp; you would have been able to freely be with Gwylan. No more being Avery’s maid, no more cooking tedious dishes (you’d kill a man if you had to make souffles or beef wellington one more time), no more stepping on eggshells in fear that you were going to get dragged to the dungeon to get whipped. You’d be free…
… Or at least, as free as Gwylan allowed you to be.
Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe that was why you had dragged your feet in ruining Avery’s life work.
It wasn’t to defend Avery by any means. He was a terrible fucking person. But even knowing this, even though you had to monitor your own actions and words constantly around him… he gave you a sense of freedom even Gwylan didn’t. If you wanted to act out, you could. Would you get punished? Absolutely. But you still had that choice.
Even before Gwylan had put the special collar on you—something you could never take off so long it was ‘locked’ by him—you had a hard time resisting him. Part of it was just his natural charisma; but even when you first met him, you knew there was something more to it all. Magic, maybe, now that you had seen the true horrors of the world and knew magic in some form existed.
After the collar, resisting him was nigh impossible. Even if you wanted to refuse his requests, you were unable to. The option to choose had been taken away from you. A part of you hadn’t even wanted the collar, but the moment you tried to refuse, your mind had grown fuzzy, and next thing you knew the collar was on you.
You loved Gwylan. Truly. But deep down, you knew your relationship with him was just as fucked up as your relationships with everybody else in this Godforsaken town were.
Was that why you never switched out the stones, then?
Granted, you hadn’t known what would take place up in the tower. You hadn’t known that you’d be wrenched into some kind of ritual that had Avery tear a dagger into you. It didn’t physically wound you, but you could feel it scar your soul.
Something was lost in you forever that night.
Terrified, with no idea on what to do, you had immediately ran to Gwylan’s shop, ignoring the pouring rain or the blood moon high in the sky as you pounded on the door. Normally, it would have opened—but it stayed shut that night.
You had even tried the pub, knowing he would frequent there as his alias, the Brown Fox, but when you asked Landry for him, you were only met with confusion. She hadn’t known what you were even talking about.
It was as if the Brown Fox had never existed. Mickey couldn’t recall him, either. He was only left in your memory.
The shop had stayed closed for a week after the tower. With nowhere left to go, you had stayed at Avery’s, and things had carried on as normal. He had a new pep in his step, and didn’t seem to sleep as much, but other than that, things just… carried on.
It didn’t stop you from visiting Gwylan’s shop every day, though. Waiting for that door to finally open.
It shouldn’t have surprised you that when it finally did, Gwylan was upset. He had trusted you to switch out the bones, and you hadn’t. You didn’t even have a solid reason when he asked. You didn’t know why you had failed yourself, when you had the resources and skills to carry out the plan.
Was it because you were afraid of Avery? No, that wasn’t it. Was it the knowledge that you were truly helpless in the end, no matter what you did? Maybe. Avery, Gwylan—they couldn’t be more different, and yet the same in how they controlled you.
There seemed to be no way out. No matter your option, you felt trapped. You hated that you had broken down in front of Gwylan then, hated how powerless you felt.
Was that truly where things had gone wrong? Not you moving in with Avery and second-guessing yourself, not even you failing to swap out the wishing bones—but showing weakness in front of Gwylan, the one person you had trusted in this world?
It was too late—you were already deep in Gwylan’s grasp before all of this had even happened. You failing your mission seemed to only prove to Gwylan that you needed to be protected and kept from the outside world.
How many weeks had it been, now?
It was hard to keep track of time here. You didn’t have a phone, and Gwylan wasn’t too keen on letting you ever leave the shop anymore unless it was for breakfast or a ritual—both activities that kept you by his side.
Your collar was locked again—it had become unlocked during Avery’s ascension ritual, although Gwylan had been more than happy to lock it again.
It was funny. Once, a long time ago, Gwylan had asked you if you’d willingly leave Avery behind. You had agreed wholeheartedly at the time, before admitting it was still better than the orphanage. He had reminded you it was still a birdcage.
Wasn’t that what this was, too? Wasn’t his shop its own form of a birdcage?
“Pet! I’m back!”
You were brought out of your own introspection by his cheery voice. He seemed to materialize out of nowhere, although his bright grin died down a bit when he saw you were just sitting by a window. It was locked shut—escape was not an option. It never was.
“Do you want a walk?”
“I’m fine.” Your response was short, clipped. Going outside while leashed to Gwylan would hurt more than it did by being stuck in this shop. An illusion of freedom; a glimpse of what you could have, just out of reach.
He reached out and pet your head, an action that would have once soothed you. More often than not nowadays, it just soured your mood.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.” His voice was softer, this time. Understanding. As if he understood what exactly you were going through. He never would. Not truly. You didn’t even look at him, not until his hand moved from your head to your chin, turning your gaze towards him.
His eyes seemed to glow in the dim lighting of the shop. “I’m doing this to protect you, dear.” His voice was nearly pleading, begging you to understand him. Just as he didn’t understand what you were going through, you couldn’t bring yourself to understand his own actions in keeping you here.
“. . .” You didn’t know how to respond, knowing if you just pleaded with him or said the wrong thing, he’d take your voice away. He’d done it before. You knew he had no qualms about doing it again.
At your silence, he continued. “I trusted you to change out the wishing bones, and instead you got yourself hurt in the process. It’s not something I can ever reverse.” His thumb pressed against your lower lip gently, his gaze not once wavering from your own. It was as if he was staring into your very soul, able to see each and every thought and worry that flitted through your mind. “I can prevent anything worse from happening to you, though.”
He let go of your chin, only to pull you into a tight hug. He buried his face into your neck, and you hated how your arms instinctively came up to hug him back. It was second nature to you, and you didn’t even think it was the collar to blame. This was all you.
“I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to lose you. Not you.” His voice was muffled slightly, his lips brushing against your neck as he spoke, but you still heard him perfectly well. “So just… continue to stay with me. Alright? I’ll keep you safe here. Stay with me.”
Warmth ran through you at those last three words. Your eyelids began to droop. It was as if your anxieties and concerns were ebbing away. You knew it was Gwylan’s doing, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care that you were falling under his compulsion again.
You had betrayed him by not stopping Avery. It was a decision that would forever haunt you. Gwylan had lost his trust in you.
But just as you had betrayed him—he had betrayed you by taking away what was left of your freedom.
The orphanage, Avery’s mansion, here… They were all cages you had been trapped in.
Only this one, you’d never escape.
You slept alone most nights, now. Gwylan used to come crawling into your pet bed, but he hadn’t done that as of late. Not since the tower incident.
It was late—you had curled up into your pet bed, expecting another night by yourself. You weren’t sure when you had drifted off to sleep. Sleep came uneasily most nights, but recently he had used hypnosis on you to help the nightmares you had been having. You didn’t usually remember them, but that hadn’t stopped you from waking him up screaming for the past couple weeks.
Your sleep was dreamless, at first. You barely roused yourself as you felt your bed dip. Arms wrapped around you.
“Shh, pet… Go back to sleep.”
And so you did, not even thinking anything of it.
Your sleep was dreamless. You floated in a dark sea on a bed of clouds, oblivious to the world around you. But something was wrong.
Something was inside you.
You jolted, a low whine leaving you as you were more insistently roused from your sleep. In your bleariness, it took you a minute to piece together what was really happening. Your pajama bottoms had been tugged down, an arm wrapped underneath and around your waist and two fingers crooked deep inside you. Your breath hitched as they curled slowly, dragging against your walls. You were shushed once more as a whimper left your throat. For a moment, you were reminded of past assaults; times you had been touched against your own will. You instinctively reached down to try and pull the hand away—but your body went limp, your limbs suddenly not your own to move. His free hand came up to your throat, trailing a finger up the center of it.
“Let me take care of you.”
You were only soothed by the realization it was Gwylan’s voice. It was just Gwylan—certainly not some stranger assaulting you in your sleep.
Somehow, the knowledge it was Gwylan didn’t bring you as much peace as you would have hoped it would.
His pace was unhurried as he fingered you, your juices coating his fingers and making quiet squelching noises with each thrust into your tingling pussy he gave. He rutted shallowly against you from behind, and you opened your mouth only for no noise to come out besides another small whimper.
“Shhh.” You were shushed once more, not that it mattered—Gwylan had taken your voice.
It was hard to ignore the arousal that was building in you. Gwylan knew your body well by now, knew what exactly to do to make you orgasm. He began to work a third finger into you, another stifled whine leaving you. You had the urge to squirm, but not the leeway to move your body to do so.
The hand that had been around your throat dropped down to your chest, squeezing one of your breasts gently, his nails just barely digging into you through the fabric of your pajama top.
He crooked his fingers again; his nails lightly scratched you in a way that was more pleasure than pain. Then, he twisted his wrist, the movement having you arch into him, finally able to move your body somewhat as his thumb pressed down firmly onto your clit. The combination of him fingering you and toying with your clit and rhythmically squeezing your breast sent you careening over the edge, your first orgasm rocking through you.
Your thighs trembled as he fingered you through your high, stopping just as it began to feel too oversensitive. Your entire body tingled, his fingers making another squelching sound as he withdrew them from your pussy. You heard him suck on them, cleaning your juices off before he pulled back slightly.
The distance was short-lived. He rolled you onto your stomach, his hand gently pressing your face into the pillows beneath you. You could hear him adjusting his clothing with his free hand, and then his cock was sliding between your thighs. Not yet angled to thrust in; he was still taking his time with you.
“Just be a good pet and lie still for me… okay?” He was panting above you, and he thrust between your thighs a couple of times, catching your wetness onto the head of his cock before he re-angled himself.
No matter how many times you two had had sex, the initial stretch always seemed to hurt. Gwylan was just blessed with good genetics on how thick his cock was. Even with preparation, there was a slight burn from how he stretched your walls out. Normally, he would have started with shallow thrusts—this time, he thrust his entire cock into you in one go, bottoming out and eliciting another whine from you.
He stayed like that. Just for a moment. He panted above you, leaning over you as he rutted shallowly into you for a moment. His grip on your head loosened a bit, only for him to pet your head in an almost-condescending manner.
“Good pet… You’re always so good for me.”
You hated how his praises sent a new wave of arousal flooding to your core.
With your voice still gone, and your body sluggish, it took all you had to keep you from completely falling into the bedding as Gwylan began to thrust into you. He was no longer taking his time, and your arms shook as you tried to prop yourself up a bit so you didn’t get a faceful of pillow. His thrusts were hurried, and you could hear him pant heavily above you as he kept you down.
“You’re gonna cum for me again.”
It was a demand—one you couldn’t resist. As he reached around with one hand to play with your clit once more—his other hand still at the back of your head—you could feel the dams burst. You clamped down around his cock as you came, another whine leaving you. It was all you could manage without your voice.
You were becoming over-sensitive—not that Gwylan cared. He continued to fuck you, and you could feel his cock twitch inside of you, telling you that he was near release himself.
“One more time. You can do that for me again, can’t you?”
You didn’t want to. You didn’t think you had it in you to cum a third time in such a short time frame, but since when did he care what you wanted anymore? In your peripheral vision, you could have sworn you saw glowing green lights, dancing just out of your vision. The lights soothed you, worming their way into your brain and causing your entire body to jolt.
Your third orgasm was intense, your mouth dropping open but with no sound to release. You jerked down, and Gwylan followed you, his hand moving from your clit to your hip to keep you in place. His nails dug into your skin as you felt him cum deep inside you. He pushed deeper, your hole stretching slightly around him as he pushed his knot inside of you. His cum continued to spurt out, igniting a new warmth inside of you.
Your mind blanked out, just for a moment. White hot pleasure coursed through you at both your orgasm and the fact you had followed his command. When you began to become aware of your surroundings once more, your throat felt looser. You didn’t need to speak to know your voice was given back to you.
Gwylan thrust into you a couple more times, soft pants leaving him as he waited for his knot to deflate. Your pussy tingled, each small thrust sending a sharp jolt through you as pleasure turned into prickling pain from the over-stimulation. Soon enough, his knot was deflated enough for him to pull free of you, although little fluids leaked out of you.
Arms buckling beneath you, you collapsed back into the bed with a quiet huff. Gwylan giggled, crawling in after you and holding you close.
“Good pet,” he murmured, petting your head once more. It had been a long time since the two of you had been intimate with each other. No doubt he had been pent up. Despite your misgivings and unhappiness with your treatment, you had been a bit pent up, too.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised, tilting your head back so he could peck your lips. “Just go to sleep. I’ll be here.”
Despite it not being a genuine command, your lids felt heavy all the same. You were frustrated with Gwylan. What he was doing to you—it wasn’t right. All the same… There was nowhere you felt safer than here, and right now, perhaps that was really all you could ask for.
Leaning into his touch, you let out a deep sigh, before slowly falling asleep in his arms.
You could worry about everything else in the morning.
love is dangerous for someone like gwylan—he’s all too aware of the pain that can come from it
m!gwylan x gn!reader | MDNI, angst, grief, gwylan’s yandere tendencies if you squint, not beta read
note: an attempt to familiarize myself with writing angst </3 the title is inspired by the song title ‘she will destroy you’ — cocteau twins (i often listen to the moon and the melodies album while thinking about gwylan’s sorrows)
masterlist read on ao3
Any affection aimed at Gwylan is just like sand slipping through his fingers, something short in comparison to the memories that’ll remain on the shore and inspire the whales to weave them into their mournful song for centuries.
Everything around him is a reminder; a warning sign as to why he shouldn’t be reckless given the cycle he’s in.
And you—his curious, sweet pet—are the greatest reminder of all.
The beautiful pink roses people tend to admire only taunt him, bullying him for his infertility despite reproduction being an instinct rooted deep in his very being. Before you came along, there wasn’t much he could do but sigh over this knowledge. After all, it’s not like he had a partner in the first place, and thus, there’d be no heartbreak. Now, if he’s ever left to ruminate it, he’s left at a complete loss.
Sometimes he wanders through his place, looking over the various items and reminding himself that one day the shop will act as a treasure chest with all your stories, and you won’t be there to tell them yourself. Or perhaps in the future, he’ll be in a similar but completely different body, sickening waves of grief from multiple lifetimes rocking him all over the place until he’s dizzy.
The only remedies for memory are forgetting or letting go, and Gwylan can’t do (and often never wishes to do) either of them—he cherishes everything too dearly to let go or forget. Like he’s once told you: he likes collecting clothes, knick-knacks, and memories. This remains true even if it’ll lead to nothing but sorrow in the end.
The bitterness of alcohol will never wash away the forever lingering feeling of your kisses. And even if the rhythm of your heartbeat were to turn into a haunting melody instead of a lullaby, he wouldn’t make any attempts to get it out of his head.
Despite all his flaws and attempts to keep you away, you’ve kept on pursuing him. And that, along with your fascinatingly resilient soul, has left him both frightened and enthralled.
He’s always been scared of swimming in the ocean, but he has already sunk into one made of your tears (he’ll never admit that he’s drowning, though). He’s let the salt burn all his wounds, just like how you let all his thorns pierce through you every time he puts up a barrier and a crumbling act of indifference.
Gwylan denies that what he feels for you is love. How foolish. He doesn’t love you, he can’t love you. His heart isn’t able to and he has already told you this.
So, then, silly pet, why do you look at him so sadly when he fails to utter the words out in response to yours?
Three simple syllables, I love you, are all you’re waiting for. Or maybe not even a direct confession, just any confirmation on the depths of his romantic feelings for you.
You’re always met with a wry smile that very quickly turns into a sulk when you look away, his ears flattening and an ache forming in his throat. He doesn’t want to push you away with his inability to confront his feelings, but old habits die hard and he has grown somewhat used to counting on your patience.
There’s a deep fear rooted in Gwylan. As soon as he comes to terms with the certain, indisputable fact that he loves you, and says as such, life will play a silly trick and speed up the hourglass on what little time the two of you have.
Until he’s brave enough, he will do just about anything to keep you by his side except say or verbally allude to those three forbidden words.
He has become a source of comfort for you—someone you can come to when things are difficult. Someone to hold you close, listen to all your worries until the furrow of your brows diminishes, and, if things are particularly dire, to lull (intoxicate) you with flowers or sweet words and smiles.
The familiar collar locked on your neck keeps you connected to him from anywhere and everywhere, a singular threatening touch to it and he’ll be alerted immediately. And ultimately, it makes you completely his, keeping your devotion and obedience in place; it’d be very hard to get away from him, just the thought of fleeing itself would be difficult to maintain.
You’re completely under his trance, and he intends to keep it this way whether you’re willing or not. All your senses should always be spellbound by him: by the sweetness of his lips, the warmth of his palm atop your head, the smell that he rubs onto you, each gentle smile he casts at you, and all his well-earned praise.
You didn’t expect to be able to easily leave after burrowing your way into his heart and soul, did you?
Even a week without your presence fills him with a bottomless void. He needs your warmth to keep the fear of you vanishing at bay, craves your ardent touch, and misses you so badly that not even your lingering scent all over your pet bed can soothe him.
Gwylan needs you to keep on going. For as long as you’re alive, he refuses to live without you—he wouldn’t be able to.
If you were to go first, he’d be completely shattered and unable to ever piece himself back together. He’d likely go soon afterwards from the heartbreak.
He also can’t bear the thought of leaving you all by yourself. Living is hard enough as it is, how could he make you face a hardship he knows all too well?
Or maybe what lies at the end of the road won’t be as agonizing as he believes, where one will be without the other. Maybe it’ll be a mutual farewell from the earth with a kiss that tastes like a mix of blood and the sea, your heart’s beating as one, and matching red roses as accessories that’ll wilt and join the soil with both of you.
And by that time, he’ll without a doubt be able to say with a weak and tender smile: “I love you.”
You knew the risks of taking on a dangerous job that required you to infiltrate Avery’s mansion to stop the cult from doing a forbidden rite. You knew the dangers that came along with acting the part of a pretty pet for somebody clearly unhinged and deranged.
You knew all of this—but knowing and experiencing are two different things.
It had taken weeks to get to this point. Playing the part of Avery’s brainless little girlfriend/sugar baby/pet had been annoying, but necessary. Landry had said the vault was somewhere in his house, housing the wishing bones—bones you were meant to replace. While you weren’t too sure of the full repercussions of letting Avery and Remy and them carry out their weird little ritual with the real wishing bones, Landry and her associate, the Brown Fox, had made it sound bad.
That was all you needed to know, really. Not that you’d claim that you were a do-gooder by any means, you had broken your fair share of laws just to earn some cash, but there was a limit to what you could ignore. This cult stuff was way above your paygrade, but you knew about Remy’s side business, and you had seen just how far Avery was willing to go for power.
Both of them deserved to be knocked down a few pegs.
Landry had made sure you knew it was dangerous to move in with Avery. The Brown Fox warned you that if you pissed off Avery enough, he might slip up and reveal the location of the vault.
You went into this knowing damn well the dangers, but it still couldn’t have prepared you for this.
Everything hurt.
Perhaps you had gone too far in pissing Avery off, but that should have never warranted the abuse you received. You figured he’d be mildly pissed coming home to an unclean house; perhaps he had just had a bad day.
You never would have thought he’d have actually beaten your ass for it.
And it didn’t just end there. Only when you were curled up on the ground, metallic taste in your mouth from biting through your lip, did he relent. He relented, only to pull you up to your feet and drag you to his study, announcing he wanted to show you something as your punishment.
You should have known there was a secret room. You sort of figured, having scoured his mansion day after day with no vault in sight, but you wouldn’t have guessed for him to have a literal dungeon.
At the very end of the dungeon, inlaid into the wall, was a large vault. The very one you had been looking for. Its very presence mocked you, so close yet so far, as Avery shoved you against a wall only to chain you there. Your clothes hung in tatters, his words going in one ear and out the other as he grabbed a whip.
Punishment, he said. In all of the scrapes you had gotten into in the past, for all the shit you had gone through, you don’t think you had ever been treated like this—and that was saying something. Your pain tolerance was high, but even that only went so far as he whipped you, ignoring your cries of pain before he finally left the dungeon, leaving you there to hang, your body sore and burning in pain.
You weren’t sure how long you had hung there. Briefly, you had debated escaping; the shackles around your wrists were loose and could easily be maneuvered out of, but you didn’t trust yourself to leave fast enough with the amount of pain that coursed through your body. Your gaze kept flickering to the safe, recognizing how close you had come to your goal.
Would there have been a better way to discover the safe that didn’t involve any sort of pain like what you had endured?
Eventually, Avery came back. He seemed calmer, unlocking your bindings and helping you up the stairs. He said nothing to you, leaving you in the hallway as he headed to the lounge, probably to pour himself a drink. He probably expected you to follow him. Like hell you’d do that.
You needed to get out of here.
Despite the sorry state your attire was, you left the mansion, not even bothering to change. You needed to get to Landry and the Brown Fox at the pub, needed to tell them the vault’s location—but you couldn’t go like this.
You couldn’t let them see you in your moment of weakness.
For a moment, you considered going back to the orphanage. It was only a street over, but the thought of Robin seeing you like this made your heart ache. Robin, who was too sweet and kind to know what horrors you were going through. You couldn’t worry her like that.
Alex’s farm was too far—you also didn’t trust her to not retaliate against Avery.
Before you could think too much on it, your feet began to carry you towards the forest, shambling down the street and through the treeline. It was a slow process; every part of your body ached and screamed for reprieve, but if you stopped now you’d collapse into the street, and that was the worst option by far. With the sun already long gone, who knew what would happen to a vulnerable girl on the street at night. Especially in this town.
So, you forced yourself forward.
Eventually, a familiar shop came into vision, towering above the trees. Its presence comforted you, and you didn’t think twice about entering. The comforting scent of fresh rain and cedar greeted you, the atmosphere warmer both physically and mentally. Just being here was like a balm to your frenzied mind.
“Ah, if it isn’t…” The very person you had been seeking had turned the corner. He originally brightened upon seeing you, only for his eyes to widen as he fully took in the sight of you. You hadn’t the opportunity to see just how bad you looked, but if it was like anything you felt…
He called out your name, just as your limbs finally gave in. He was in front of you in a flash, catching you before you could hit the ground.
“What happened?” His voice trembled, his grip too tight and yet comforting all the same. It was nothing like Avery’s grip around your neck had been.
“Gwylan…” you murmured his name, burying your face into his chest. The smell of petrichor was stronger, the familiar scent of him helping calm your beating heart.
You had wanted to remain strong. Had wanted to keep up the unbothered, nonchalant front whenever you told Gwylan one of your many misadventures that would have left somebody of weaker will broken.
But you couldn’t.
The crying started quietly at first, tears dampening his tunic as you clung onto him. They then evolved into sobs that wracked your body, and Gwylan’s grip on you only tightened, holding you even closer. One of his hands entangled into your hair, petting your head in an attempt to comfort you.
Time blurred together. You cried until your voice was hoarse, until fatigue seeped through your bones.
“Come on. Your wounds need to be treated.”
He didn’t press for details as he helped you to a stand. When you wobbled, he gently wrapped your arm around his shoulders, and together the two of you hobbled towards his garden, one that was off limits to everybody else. Even you rarely found yourself in here, unless you were helping Gwylan with a ritual or asking for help to sleep better and deal with your nightmares.
His movements were gentle as he sat you down, but quick all the same. He wasted no time in filling the wooden tub nearby with steaming hot water, quickly heading back to you.
“I’m going to undress you, dear.”
His tone was soft, soothing, treating you as if you were an injured animal that might lash out. Perhaps it wasn’t far from the truth. You didn’t fight, though, as he stripped your clothes from you.
Gwylan had seen you naked plenty of times before, but something about this time left you feeling vulnerable, almost nervous. Perhaps it was the extent of your wounds, bright red lines decorating your torso from the whip. There was dried blood in some sections from where Avery had whipped too hard; he really hadn’t pulled any punches with his ‘punishment’.
Green eyes darkened as he dipped a washcloth into the tub, only to gently blot at your torso. A pained hiss left you, your skin stinging anew, and he quickly withdrew his hand with a hurried apology.
“It’ll be okay.”
He reached forward again with the hand not clutching the cloth, tracing faint shapes over your abdomen and murmuring something in a language you couldn’t parse. The pain seeped out of your limbs with every trace, the sting morphing into a dull ache as you relaxed slightly. Gwylan took this as a sign to try again, and when he next pressed the washcloth to your skin, it didn’t hurt as bad.
You remained quiet as Gwylan cleaned you up. When he finished with your torso, he guided you to the tub and helped you in, washing your hair and the rest of your body. He didn’t try to speak either, instead humming a familiar tune that only further eased your nerves.
The entire time he treated you with care. He cleaned you up, treated your wounds with an efficiency that told you he had done it a hundred times, and soon you were wrapped in bandages and wrapped in towels.
“How bad is it?” you asked quietly as he towel-dried your hair. His hands paused, deliberating how honest he wanted to be with you.
“. . . It’s bad,” he settled on being honest. “I tried my best, but some of those bruises…” His voice trembled again with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Dear… what happened?”
You hesitated. Nobody other than Landry and the Brown Fox knew what you were up to—and while you fully trusted Gwylan, you weren’t sure this was something you wanted to drag him into. You had just gained the Brown Fox’s trust; you felt like blabbering about your mission to somebody else might shatter that trust.
Gwylan would know if you lied, though. He had a habit of dragging the truth out of you, even when you didn’t want to tell him anything. There was just something so compelling about him that made your mind blank at times.
“I…” Your mouth went dry. Shady business aside, you weren’t sure you wanted to recount the events of tonight. Not now. You were afraid that if you did, you’d break out in tears again, and crying once in front of Gwylan was bad enough. “I wasn’t careful enough.” You spoke slowly, carefully, monitoring what you said in case you slipped up.
Gwylan didn’t press you for details. He continued to towel dry your hair slowly, giving you the time to gather your thoughts and calculate your words as if the two of you had all the time in the world.
“I’m… working on a mission. To stop somebody bad from doing something even worse. It’s why I haven’t been around as much. This person, though… I guess I underestimated him.” Your voice grew bitter at the end. Underestimated Avery indeed—certainly not a mistake you’d ever make again.
What made it all worse was that you would have to go back. The wishing bones had not yet been swapped out, and you were determined to see this through to the end. You were never one to renege on your word.
“Is it worth it?” Gwylan asked quietly. There was a knowing tone in his voice; there was no way he could have known exactly what you were up to, but then again, Gwylan always seemed to know more than he ever let on. You don’t think you’d be too surprised if he already was aware of what you were up to.
His question was enough to make you think. Was it worth it? Neither Landry nor the Brown Fox had been forthcoming about what you were putting a stop to. You had no clue what this ‘ritual’ entailed, had no clue what to expect when Avery’s tower was finished or what would happen afterwards. You were left in the dark, blindly carrying out the Brown Fox’s requests without complaint.
Was this all worth it?
But then, you reminded yourself of what you knew about Avery, and Remy, and even Harper. You may have not known what they were up to, but you knew them well enough to know it wasn’t anything good. Whatever it was they were planning, it would only spell trouble.
Maybe you were trying to repent for your own sins. You weren’t an angel by any means. You had done plenty of things you weren’t proud of—stopping those three and the others was something you could be proud of.
“I don’t know,” you admitted in a small voice, slumping slightly. “But I have to see this through. It’s much bigger than just me.”
Gwylan pulled away from you, circling around so he was standing in front of you. He knelt down, reaching out and gently cupping your face with one hand. Where he cupped felt swollen, but it didn’t hurt as much as he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. His eyes took in your appearance. Even cleaned up, you knew you were a sight for sore eyes, the dull throbbing in your cheek and neck and the rest of your body reminding you of what happened earlier in the night.
“You’re strong,” he murmured. His expression was downcast. “But you’re not invincible.” You knew that. More than anybody were you aware of your own mortality.
“I know.” You sighed, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes for a moment, just focusing on his warmth. “But as I said, this is much bigger than me. If I don’t do this… how many others could get hurt?”
His hand stayed there a few moments more before he pulled away. His lips parted for a moment, before closing, wanting to say something yet not knowing what to say. When he remained silent, you reached out and gently grabbed his hand, squeezing it in reassurance.
“Thank you.” Your voice was a low murmur, the words almost sticking in your throat from how grateful you really felt. “I promise… I’ll make it out of this.”
“You always do.” His response was automatic, but his smile was sad as he squeezed your hand back before pulling away. “Let’s grab you some fresh clothing.”
Neither of you spoke anymore on the matter as Gwylan threw away your tattered clothes, supplying you with fresh clothes from the shop. When you tried to pay, he only shook his head, patting you on the head instead.
It was in the dressing room as you pulled the clothing on that you saw how bad you truly looked. Your cheek bone was swollen and bruised; if he hit any higher, you would have had a black eye. The lower right side of your lip was busted with a small cut, and purple tinged your neck in the shape of fingers. Your torso was mostly hidden from view, expertly bandaged up. It was probably for the best—you didn’t want to see how bad it looked right now.
You… were going to kill Avery.
Truly, you wished for nothing more than his death.
More put together, now, you stepped out of the changing room and forced another smile on your face. It was tight, not reaching your eyes, but Gwylan didn’t comment on it.
“Thank you. Truly.” You couldn’t help but thank him again, and he stepped forward to cup your cheek once more.
“Be safe, dear.” His voice was almost gloomy as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.
It wasn’t something you could promise. Not in your current condition, not with how things were, but you would certainly try.
Giving a short nod of acknowledgement at his words, you began to leave. You wanted nothing more than to stay in his shop. Perhaps even ask if you could sleep here for the night; Gwylan might even agree.
But there was no rest for the wicked. With the vault’s location revealed, you needed to go tell Landry and the Brown Fox immediately so you could plan the next move. After that… Well, you’d have to go back to Avery’s and continue playing the part of his doll without resorting to murdering him in his sleep.
Gwylan was right. You were strong. You’d make it through this. You always did.
“I’ll see you soon.”
With that promise, you left his shop. Your body ached all over, but with a newfound determination, you began your walk to the pub.
You’d see this through to the very end. If not for yourself, then for Gwylan and everybody else you cared about.
angels with chastity vows aren’t immune to the temptation of worldly pleasure, and gwylan (your personal walking aphrodisiac) helps you get some relief
m!gwylan x gn angel tf!reader | mdni, 8.5k wc, smut, petplay, sexual inexperience, fingering, knotting dildos, dry humping, praise kink, multiple orgasms, not beta read
note: for the sake of keeping this gender neutral, the reader having any virginity (penile, vaginal, anal) taken would result in them becoming a fallen angel + failing the chastity exam </3 also, shout out to @/envulped for helping me with knowing what relationship stats were required for gwylan to address the reader as ‘pet’ & they also have a notion with a collection of gwylan’s qna if anyone’s interested !!
masterlist read on ao3
All this over a knotted dildo.
Considering your current predicament—being at the hands of Bailey’s tyranny—it’s no surprise that you have the tendency of swiping items right off of store shelves without getting caught. It’s a skill you’ve gained to survive.
Gwylan’s shop is a tattletale, though. And what you stole is most certainly not something you need for survival.
You feel way too many things at once: blurriness in your vision after tripping over one piece of furniture after another, goosebumps rising all over your now nearly bare body that only has vines keeping you tied, and so much embarrassment that all you can do is look away from him.
As if the whole situation’s missing a cherry on top, the shop decides to further mock you by making the stolen toy land right in front of you. So much for wanting to apologize and return it.
Gwylan stands there with his arms crossed, looking down at your kneeling form with playfulness sparkling in his eyes. “I would’ve never expected this from my little angel of all people.”
His gaze briefly shifts to the toy. “How very knot-ty of you.”
His pun falls on deaf ears.
“Get it? Knotting, naughty.”
Silence.
What can you possibly say to him?
Isn’t the shop being a little extreme with its punishment? You didn’t steal any clothes, so why did it rip all of yours away? Then again, you’re unable to think of a proper enough punishment for stealing a sex toy.
“Tough crowd.” He clears his throat, tone more stern now. “You have some nerve, dear. There would’ve been no judgment on my end if you had brought it up to the counter. I would’ve even given it to you for free if you had allowed me to use it on you.”
Okay. He’s making things worse. The enticing images of that make you question your last remaining willpower.
“It’s just—I…”
This, unbeknownst to Gwylan, is all his fault.
You’ve been told that you have a very special gift, one that can possibly make hundreds of dollars fall into your hands if you’re willing to part with it: your virginity. The thought itself used to repulse you. People are already so greedy for even a glimpse of your body, why in the world would you let any of them take it?
You told yourself that nobody would make you sway. Sex itself had no appeal to you; moans and groans sounded like nails on a chalkboard and your hands had never longed to run over someone’s body.
Or at least, that’s what you thought before you met Gwylan. From the moment you became acquainted with him, temptation was at your door.
He was touchy from the get go. The first bliss you ever felt was from the mere act of him tenderly petting your head upon him leaving the cafe in the morning and coming across you feeding a stray animal on the sidewalk.
It left you completely dazed, like stars were revolving around your halo.
When he noticed your delight, his eyes lit up and he cheerfully asked, “does it feel nice?”
It did. You liked it so much to the point it frightened you. “Yeah. But, why are you…”
“You must have a kind heart. Cruel people often don’t care about animals.”
A question popped into your mind. “Gwylan, I feel like you’d be really good with animals. You also mentioned having a big garden once, so how come you don’t have any pets?”
“Having a pet would be…” He chuckled dryly. “Too troublesome.”
“Well, if one day you choose to get one, what kind would it be?”
“I don’t see myself getting one, but…I suppose one that’s obedient and loyal in the sense that, even if I let them go anywhere and everywhere, they’ll always come back to me in the end.”
Them. But don’t people usually use the word ‘it’ for hypothetical pets? And the response you were looking for was something like a dog, cat, or maybe even a bunny.
You got the feeling he wasn’t talking about an animal, but very quickly brushed it off.
A pinch to your cheek, an arm around your shoulder, a proud pat to your back—all his gestures made your stomach flutter with troublesome feelings. You convinced yourself it was simply because he was one of the few people that had ever touched you so gently.
“Beautiful.” The whispered praise he gave you was nothing short of heartfelt the first time his fingertips brushed over your wings. “Thank you for trusting me with this, dear. Oh— some of the feathers are cold...”
“For the longest time, I thought I was the only one that could see myself like this.” Despite the fact that your wings and halo are very much real, they seemed to be almost completely invisible to passersby. The ones who could see them would ask for pictures, believing it to be a costume. The most others could do was sense the radiance surrounding you and ask for your blessing.
“Most people don’t have their mind open to the truths of the world, they wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“I wonder what having that kind of life would be like.”
“Would you have preferred being ordinary? Though everyone struggles with their own problems, you’re a special case. Life seems to throw curveballs at you nonstop.” The next part, he quietly muttered with a tone you weren’t able to decipher at the time, “and you always get back up.”
He was right, of course. If you were an ordinary person, everything would be much easier. But there was still so much to the world that you craved to learn about firsthand, and that kind of knowledge couldn’t be obtained with a mundane life.
Feeling completely safe in his presence, you had let your eyes flutter close as you thought of your answer. In the end, you told him that if your life had been a typical one, you’d be a completely different person.
Then, you continued with, “and if I had that kind of life, would I have ever met you? And even if I had met you under those circumstances, your shop probably would’ve been pretty empty to me, right?”
He stayed silent for a while before humming in acknowledgment, staying neutral. Afterwards, he redirected the topic back to your wings. “Seeing you in flight would be quite the sight. …I didn’t mean to rhyme.”
Then, it happened. You walked in on him performing one of his rituals. The second your eyes landed on his bare skin, it was like you were under an unbreakable trance. It would’ve been fine if you had immediately turned away, but you stayed rooted to where you were.
He was oh so dangerously breathtaking, just like a siren luring a sailor to their death. Desiring someone is a gateway to misery—from that moment, you knew you’d crave him until the end of time.
It wasn’t until he crouched down that you finally noticed there was someone else with him. Your body felt everything. Nobody has ever been able to reach between your legs, not with your chastity belt in the way. So, it was no surprise that the sensations were enough to make you moan out loud.
After unintentionally ruining his ritual and getting scolded, you made a beeline straight to the temple and into the confessional room, stumbling over your words as a penitent.
Prayers of forgiveness and promises of repentance were wasted. A physical reaction to an erotic sight isn’t a sin, it’s a biological response. Entertaining the feeling is a sin, though. And that’s exactly what you did for the first time that same night; crystal-clear fantasies of Gwylan played out behind your closed eyes.
He alluringly beckoned you over to fall deep into worldly pleasure with him. His arms were wide open for you—as if they’d be more comforting than the embrace of your wings. “Come closer, dear. Drown with me.”
Like always, you did your best to listen to him. All you could really do was let your imagination run wild with your chastity belt in the way. The weekly trials of purity at the temple were nothing compared to the agony of your body burning for him.
Your confessions increased when you started helping out during his weekly rituals. He told you that his rituals were somewhat similar to the way you sometimes purged the corruption from penitents when you took on the role of a confessor, but this wasn’t enough to absolve you of guilt.
“Forgive me. For I—” You abruptly came to a stop, entirely ashamed and needing a moment to recollect your thoughts. “I’ve participated in sexual acts with things that…aren’t entirely human?”
The person on the other side was entirely taken aback by this. With a loud gasp and apology, they quickly left.
“Please pardon my sins. I’ve been letting someone see and touch my body. And they…have no intention of ever settling down.”
And then one day—perhaps one of the worst of your life—you spoke through tears and a lingering sting on your cheek.
“Forgive me, brother. There’s a person I hold very dear to me. They made their boundaries very clear and yet I broke the most important one by kissing them.” The sobs you heard from the garden lingered in your mind. “I hurt them.”
Everything about Gwylan was inviting on the surface. He was just like a beautiful rose—if you acted on impulse and reached for him, you'd be stung by all his prickles. You needed the patience to pluck each one out before you could embrace him, either that, or to simply appreciate him from a distance. It’s safe to say that you did neither of the safer options and acted on impulse instead.
His lips parting for yours to reciprocate their movement was like the opening of the pearly gates. Your rise to heaven was equally as fast as your descent. He pushed you away and locked you out, making you scramble for the key until you found him sulking in the pub.
With his eventual forgiveness and the passage of time, the two of you only grew closer and you found a new confession to make.
“Forgive me, I’ve found myself lusting after someone and I’m afraid it’ll make me push my chastity vow to the back of my head one day.”
With you acting as the forest’s vessel instead of luring a denizen for purging, your chastity belt had to be out of the way. Your coherent thought slipped more and more with each ritual, so much to the point that you felt like one day you’d ask him to do it via penetration.
And that’s how you got to the present.
“You what?” He steps closer and crouches down guiding your face towards his. “Enlighten me. You could’ve stolen a sex toy from the adult shop, and yet…you chose to steal from mine instead. Why?”
He’s so close that your halo beautifully illuminates his facial features, making the freckles on his cheeks and nose look all the more kissable. The vines hanging from the brim of his hat brush against your skin, giving you a small taste of what’s to come.
“Keep your eyes on mine, dear.”
You quickly redirect your eyes to his. If eyes are truly the window to one’s soul, then Gwylan surely already knows what—no, who—your ultimate desire is.
“I…I don’t know why I did it.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Not good enough, try again.”
Whether his disappointment is real or feigned doesn’t matter, it makes your stomach churn regardless.
You’re almost tempted to lie because of how humiliating the truth is. Even trying to lie to him is hard, though; he always seems to know when you’re not being honest. In spite of knowing this, the answer struggles to leave your lips.
What are you supposed to say? That he gets you so hot and bothered that you’re tempted to break your vow? That he’s the main star in all of your vulgar daydreams? That your want for him is so blinding that it led you to swipe the knotted dildo? That you broke into a cold sweat when you realized what you’d done?
You’ve seen his ears, fangs, and tail. Following that logic, shouldn’t he have the ability to…well, knot someone?
If that’s the case, a knotted dildo is the closest you can get to having him inside you. Not that you would know what it feels like, though, you didn’t even have the guts to use the dildo on your own. So basically, stealing it was all for nothing.
Under his intense gaze, you finally break.
It jumbles out of your mouth so quickly that you’re unable to process anything you’re saying. Gwylan smiles proudly and nods along, his face gradually reddening.
“There you go, you did so well!” He pats your head and all the vines that had been restraining your limbs and wings finally retract. “Closed mouths don’t get fed, dear. Remember that.”
“I’m…” his eyes dart away from yours, “deeply flattered that you want me so badly. I’ll have you know that keeping ourselves restricted to oral during our rituals has been driving me mad, so I’m glad to know I’m not alone. Your main concern is breaking your chastity vow, correct? That’s good—that concern is keeping you safe. The consequences would be devastating for you.”
Your head tilts.
“You know I admire your love for knowledge but please don’t try to sate your curiosity on this.” He brushes his fingers over your halo. “Keep this intact and glowing, okay?”
You nod.
“Good! Now for the fun part…let’s get your needs taken care of!” He smiles and claps his hands together, but the look in his eyes makes you feel like you’ve become his prey.
Dazedly, you blink.
Suddenly, he’s holding a collar that he got in the span of a second from god knows where. It’s the same one he puts on you during your most intimate rituals, only this time, there’s no leash attached.
Gwylan dangles it in front of you without saying a word, waiting to see what you’ll do.
Without having to do much thinking, you present your neck to him with so much enthusiasm that it draws a giggle from him. After he puts the collar in place, he leans in and whispers, “you look really good like this.”
He then stands up and gestures for you to come along. “You and me. Bedroom. Now.”
You follow closely behind him in order to not get lost in his ever-changing shop. You take a glance at your surroundings just once and see that there’s no way out.
You shouldn’t be doing this. The intimacy the two of you share should be reserved solely for the rituals that help cleanse the world. And yet, you truly want this more than anything else. Even the most pious of people fall into sin and you’re no exception.
Once you look back in front of you, you’re standing in his bedroom. You don’t remember going up the ladder that led you here last time.
The decorations in his room start to fade out of your vision until only Gwylan stands out to you. He’s sitting towards the end of his bed with his torso bare. His arms are open for you and he’s smiling sweetly just like in your first fantasy of him.
You walk until your knees meet the end of his mattress, and from then on, you crawl to him and collapse into his arms against his warm chest, right where you belong. He embraces you, lifting a hand to stroke the back of your head like you’re the dearest person in the world to him, the other lightly brushing over the base of one of your wings.
“There’s my good pet.”
Pet.
The word repeats over and over like the same sweet melody he frequently hums, his voice feels like kisses from the sun itself, cozily warming you up all over until you feel boneless. Your brain turns into cotton candy, soft and oh so easy to melt.
Feeling relaxed is easy when this reminds you of all the times he has laid your head on his lap and lulled you into the happiest of dreams.
“Aww, do you like being called that?”
You’re not sure how many times you eagerly nod, but it must be an excessive amount of times given the way he’s cooing at you.
“Gwylan.”
“Yes, dear?”
“I just wanted to say your name.”
You’re so cute that he wants to bite you all over. “That’s all? Luckily for you, I’m sure you’ll be saying much more of it soon.”
It should be scary how much influence he has over you, but if anything, Gwylan is the scared one. You frighten him to his very core. You threw him into the ocean and made him face his biggest fear. And instead of apologizing and offering a hand to help him up, saying that it was just a silly joke that meant nothing, you sank into the water with him—and ever since then, you have continued to chase after all his words and attention, willingly falling deeper and deeper.
He instructs you to turn over in his arms. You carefully tuck your wings against your back so they’re not in the way.
“Have you ever touched yourself?”
“…Yes. Well, kind of?”
“Do you touch yourself often?”
You shake your head.
Despite the temple teaching you that abstaining from masturbation is something to be proud of, you feel somewhat ashamed in the face of someone who has had his face between your legs on a weekly basis. “But when I do…it’s only on the surface.”
“This’ll be your first time with a toy inside you, then.” He notes this out loud to himself before continuing. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”
“Is this really the time for an interrogation?” You ask, feeling a mix of impatience and embarrassment. After a couple seconds pass, you give in with burning cheeks and your fantasies flashing in your mind like shooting stars. “Who else could it be but you?”
His quiet laugh against your ear is seductive—your knees would’ve given out on you if you had been standing up.
“You’re always welcome…encouraged, in fact, to come to me whenever you wish to use a toy. But if you ever happen to use one when you’re alone, always remember to give yourself the proper preparation. For this toy, multiple orgasms are recommended beforehand for the smoothest and safest experience. Are you ready?”
It’s a courteous question; saying no isn’t an option (it’s not like you want to deny him, regardless). What else can you do but nod?
“Good! Let’s get started.”
Furniture quickly scrapes against the floor, there’s now a full length vintage mirror across the bed. You find his eyes through it.
“Impatience is always common when it comes to matters of the flesh, but it’s important to hold back from rushing straight in. From what you just told me, you’re already familiar with foreplay. Aside from caressing yourself,” he rests both his hands on your chest, gently teasing you there, “it can be done in other ways, such as…”
His lips brush against the shell of your ear, “listening to something erotic. Or perhaps, seeing something.”
Images of when you interrupted his ritual serve as constant erotic art pieces that will never fade from your mind even with time.
Your heart races underneath his palm and he selfishly allows himself to dream that you’ll always hold him near and dear to it—that even if his very shop were to crumble, he’d still have the crevices of your heart to head home to.
“And if you have a partner, all the better.”
He presses his lips against your neck as best as he can with the collar in the way and sucks on your skin while savoring your scent, wondering how there has ever been a time in his life where he didn’t have it committed to memory.
The tips of his fangs are sharp and can easily pierce you or leave a cut if he were to quickly drag them across. He could eat you alive if he really wanted to (he really wants to).
“Gwylan…” You can’t control how desperately you say his name in between heavy breaths. “I need more.”
There’s no way Gwylan doesn’t know how infuriatingly alluring he is, being in his presence alone is the strongest method of foreplay.
“Oh, already trying to get me to go against my own advice? We’ve only just begun. Ask nicely.”
“Please, can—”
“I think you can do better than that.”
Dignity is a long-lost concept when it comes to anything involving Gwylan, it has been ever since the day he so shamelessly removed all your clothes with just a flick of his hand and left you in momentary shock.
And so, you indulge him by whining.
His face flushes at the fluttering in his stomach and he gives you a quick kiss to the cheek. “Good pet.”
His touch ventures down to your stomach, then further down. He parts your legs, his touch against your inner thighs as gentle as that of someone appreciatively stroking the petals of their favorite flower. His hands linger there for a while, alternating between grazes and light squeezes.
Even your wings tremble with anticipation. You barely process him reaching for something, and finally—
He slides two lube covered fingers inside you and your hips start bucking up against his palm in chase of more pleasure. If your mind wasn’t on the verge of falling apart, it would perhaps be embarrassing just how easily your body gives in to him. All the prayers you recited at night to keep you from falling into lust ended up being futile, and oh, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.
You keep your eyes on his, they’re so captivating that you’re unable to look away no matter how tempting the sight down below is.
Gwylan’s pleased by how eager you are. His ears twitch with each and every noise you make, perking up contentedly whenever his name falls from your lips.
Every jolt of your body sends ecstasy racing through him. Despite how used he is to pleasuring others, he isn’t immune to the effects of it when it comes to you. He’s progressively getting harder and harder and it’s not like he ever wears any underwear either, so the barrier between you and him is almost nonexistent.
He feels you hold onto his forearm and encourages you. “Don’t be afraid to dig your nails into me.”
You abandon the fear of hurting him and leave crescent-shaped indents on his skin. His breath hitches at the welcome sting and he speeds up his movements.
This’ll only taint your mind even more in the future when it comes to Gwylan. He’s very expressive with his hands—always clapping them together in delight, squeezing your cheek, petting and patting your head, tilting your head up, and washing your body before rituals (he has long abandoned using a sponge).
Most of the people you run into in town always zero in on three places: your ass, your groin, and your chest. Over time, it formed the impression that those are the only body parts that exude allure.
You couldn’t have been more wrong; every part of Gwylan can spark a perverted thought in you. It’s weird how much one can desire about a person once you’re charmed by them.
You want his fingers in your mouth instead of the sacramental bread you taste every Sunday during mass, and for him to pass the wine to you through a kiss. If he could hold you in his arms all the time, what use would your wings be to give you comfort and warmth? The stars at night are beautiful, sure, but the freckles that form constellations all over his body are even more breathtaking.
His tail and ears used to be cute, but now all you’re curious about is whether giving them a gentle tug would send sparks down his spine.
“Poor thing. You must’ve been wanting this for a while. Go on, let it out.”
His voice is the final push you need to come undone, you tighten up around his fingers as he coaxes you through it.
While recovering, you pant, looking at him needily through the mirror in hopes of making him hurry and get to the main event.
“Not yet.” He kisses the side of your head to calm you. “Just a few more, dear.”
It’s hard to think rationally with a clouded mind. His advice of multiple orgasms being recommended completely slips from your memory, “But, Gwylan, I—”
“Shh, better safe than sorry! Never jeopardize your safety.”
In the end, he makes you finish two more times. All throughout it, Gwylan was thinking: Ah, my poor pet’s definitely upset with me.
By the time it’s over, a large amount of lube drips out of you and onto his bedding. Your legs tremble helplessly.
“There, don’t you feel more prepared now?”
You nod repeatedly despite feeling completely wronged. How dare he ask such a question?! You’ve been ready and—
He holds the knotted dildo against you and you can’t help but gasp.
“Wait, actually…”
He waits for you to continue, amused.
“On second thought. Your fingers are good. You know what, I don’t think this toy is even needed.”
“There’s nothing to be scared or ashamed about, dear. People have created and used sex toys—especially phallus-like ones—ever since ancient times! The history is fascinating, we’re lucky the ones used today are made using more comfortable materials. If you’re curious about…”
Though you adore listening to random facts he knows, this is certainly not the time. “Gwylan.”
“…were actually at one point used to relieve many kinds of pain. There are also debates on whether the belief of them being used to treat—” He abruptly comes to a pause. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“It’s,” you gesture towards it and state the obvious, “big.”
Of course it is, that’s the entire point. But seeing it so close to the place where it’s about to be stuffed into makes you question whether you’ll be able to take it all the way to the base. “It’s different from the one I took.”
“Good eye! The one you grabbed was actually much bigger than this one and I didn’t want to risk hurting you. If you ever try this at home, I suggest starting with an even smaller size. This one also has an ejaculation feature…I thought it’d be nice to give you the full experience. Ah, but not to fear—it’s just water-based lube.”
“But how—” You can’t tear your eyes away from it, and instinctively, you start trying to squirm out of his arms. “I…I don’t think it’ll fit.”
He giggles and it inexplicably makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
“Nonsense, of course it will. Just close your eyes for a moment.” He kisses the side of your head as he gently teases your entrance with the tip of it. “I know you can do it, you’re the bravest person I know.”
It’s almost silly how quickly you take his advice, letting your vision descend to darkness. Or well, it should be dark.
Sweet visions of him play behind your closed eyes: his radiant smile, gentle eyes, and his charming habit of tilting his head with each question he asks.
You feel a mild sharp pain followed by pressure between your legs, you quietly groan.
“Take a deep breath.”
Roses fill your senses as you inhale.
“Exhale.”
You feel yourself sink deeper into the safety nest he’s crafted for you.
Here, you see him in his most comfortable form—completely naked. To him, it’s normal, nudity is something he has long grown used to. But to you, it’s the most tempting sight and almost makes you think that heaven is on earth.
In the real world, Gwylan blushes furiously upon taking note of how quickly you relaxed and the way your breathing has hastened. He isn’t blind to his own attractiveness, he was just never affected by how anyone else viewed him before you came along.
His voice sounds distant and dream-like to you. “You’re doing so good for me, dear.”
“Ah—”
Your eyes snap open and the breath is pushed out of you. This is a fullness you’ve never experienced before. Because of Gwylan’s preparation and relaxation methods, it isn't painful like you thought it’d undoubtedly be. But it feels odd, like if you moved even a little bit, you’d be pierced through.
You look down and see the knot of the dildo resting flush against you.
Each of your thighs are wrapped with a couple of vines coming from the bottom corners of the bed, keeping your legs spread apart.
“Does it feel like you imagined it would?”
You slowly shake your head and laugh nervously, as if in disbelief. “No. I don’t…I don’t know. It feels weird. Really, really weird. Are the vines really necessary?”
He takes on a lighthearted tone. “I can’t have you running away.”
You’re speechless.
How absurd! It’s not like there’s anywhere to go if you wanted to escape in the first place—you can’t even see an exit. Also, there’s no need for your movement to be restricted in the first place, you already feel weak as is.
“How does this feel?” He slowly drags it out of you before pushing it back in.
Well.
It still doesn’t hurt and you could certainly get used to it. “Still weird, but better. Um, good, I think?”
Gwylan continues while paying close attention to all your reactions. He experiments with the angle, seeming to be searching for something. “It should be somewhere around…”
You suddenly moan as a thrill rushes everywhere throughout your body like an addictive drug.
“There it is,” he says matter-of-factly. And with the gentlest, kindest smile on his face, he starts taking advantage of your sweet spot.
You feel some lube trickle out of you with each stroke. The sound of the dildo sliding effortlessly because of it makes you want to hide your face with your wings. Instead, you close your eyes and turn your head to the side, a flame spreading over your face.
“Don’t be shy,” Gwylan chides. Momentarily letting go of his hold over your torso, he grabs your face—his fingers gently squeezing your cheeks and making your lips form a pout—and directs it back in eyesight with the mirror. “Eyes on mine.”
Tears cling to your lashes as you open them again. Even through half-lidded, borderline blurry vision, you find him irresistible. Being under someone else’s control feels electrifying.
Biting down on your lower lip only does so much to keep you quiet—occasional noises still find a way through. And it’s all the harder with the way Gwylan’s smile turns wry, his eyes sharpening as if to convey: You might as well just give up. Three syllables and I can easily get it all out of you.
And so, you let your jaw slacken and let loose.
He’s satisfied. “Good pet.”
Whenever your eyes shut for more than a few seconds, he delivers a particularly hard thrust to get them open again. The knot teases you each and every time.
You reach a hand back, toppling the hat right off his head so you can sluggishly pet him. He eagerly leans into your touch—it’s a show of trust, he’d never let anyone else do this to him. His tail sways happily.
Ever so familiar with your facial expressions, he sees a very subtle change in your expression. The furrow of your eyebrows isn’t just from pleasure anymore, but from concern. “Penny for your thoughts?”
It’s completely unsexy and illogical, somehow.
“How am I supposed to confess this?” Nobody at the temple aside from the bishop and their hands know about the fact that you often coax corrupt-tainted people into completion. There’s an added pressure on you to be chaste with your reputation at the temple. “What if…the confessor recognizes my voice? What if I’m not forgiven?”
Gwylan secretly thinks to himself: Really, dear? You have a whole sex toy shoved inside you and that’s what you’re thinking about? You truly have…an interesting mind.
“You’re being awfully hard on yourself. When people confess to you with stories of their sexual acts, what do you tell them?”
“It depends on what the sexual act was but—ah!”
“Sorry.” As if. “Go on.”
“If someone told me about something like this, I’d…” You quiver, speaking in between pants. “tell them to repent if it was with a person they weren’t committed to and…forgive them if it was with someone they planned to have a future with.”
Gwylan regrets asking.
Which ‘person’ does he fit in under that? His defensive walls say that he isn’t someone you should ever commit to and yet…
Pitiably, his heart yearns for you. Beneath the act of him always suggesting that you should spend time away from him and find someone who can return your strong feelings, he’s miserably and quietly hoping that you’ll always want him.
“Gwylan?”
He’s afraid you’ll ask for his thoughts on what you said. Hesitantly, he hums in response.
“…More. Please.” He gradually slowed down to a stop and you don’t know why.
Oh, good. Relief washes over him. I won’t even ask you to beg this time.
“Harder?” Your legs jolt as the brushes against your sweet spot turn into pounding.
“Or…faster?”
You barely manage to get your answer out with the constant stimulation, “both.”
“Insatiable.” His face flushes. That’s the speed and intensity he personally likes, after all.
Maybe the temple is right in treating lust as one of the most dangerous sins. With a mind as hazy as this, you’re sure you’d do anything if it meant you could continue feeling this euphoric.
Is your chastity vow really that important? It’s clearly holding you back from experiencing one of the greatest pleasures of the world.
Without it, you’d be able to spread your legs or get on your hands and knees and shamelessly tell Gwylan how badly you want him to take your virginity. And it wouldn’t be just a spoken dream—it’d turn into a reality just seconds afterwards.
He has never explicitly stated that he wants to be inside you, but what he said earlier about how he’s also been struggling during rituals drives you to believe that it’s in the back of his head as well.
Your vision goes out of focus, and fantasies replace reality. The dildo is nowhere to be seen. He's inside you instead.
You’re straddling him, sinking down and taking him all the way down to the base. With flushed cheeks, he tells you to hurry, urging you to move until all he can do is hold onto your hips and yip.
The scenario switches.
Your legs are thrown over his shoulders and your thighs are pressed to your chest, no vines are needed to keep you in place. Strands of his hair and his jasper pendant jangle against your face with each rhythmic snap of his hips. And in spite of how lost in the sensation he also is, he manages to mutter out praises and tells you to scratch him up.
If Gwylan were to be tested on knowing all the signs that gradually led to you coming undone and the precise timing of it, he’d pass with flying colors.
You’ve lost any coherent thought. He can see it in the way your eyes are glazed over and seem to be so far away, disconnected from reality.
In your fantasy, he whispers to you, “Don’t hold back, finish for me.”
One. Two. And…
Three.
He squeezes the base of the dildo to spill the lube. Without warning—just like how it would happen in nature—he buries the knot inside you.
The vines keep your legs from instinctually shutting. All you can do is arch your back, letting your head tilt back and rest against his shoulder.
You cry his name out like a desperate prayer: urgently, over and over until the word turns into mere babbles, and with complete and utmost faith that he’ll deliver you to salvation.
Your orgasm drives him to the edge completely untouched just like during your intimate rituals.
Amidst the bliss, Gwylan also feels a deep dissatisfaction in both his body and soul, he should be inside you. He quickly sobers up from the physical bliss and is left with mixed feelings that he pushes aside in favor of cherishing how thoroughly wrecked you are.
You’re covered in a thin layer of sweat that leaves you glowing. He buries his face against the junction of your neck and shoulder, occasionally whining very quietly as he keeps himself from biting you.
It’s only when he picks up on his name gradually fading from your speech that he raises his head.
Catching your breath, you take a look down. It's hard to believe you actually managed to take it all in.
Before you can ask, he says, “realistically, it takes quite a while to deflate.”
Even though the fullness no longer feels strange (on the contrary, it feels normal now), you’d only be okay with this lasting a long time if it was actually Gwylan’s knot. Besides, there’s something else you’re dying to do.
“…Can the realism end here?”
The vines loosen up and slither away from you. He slowly takes the knot and shaft of the dildo out of you. You whimper uncomfortably at the emptiness.
Gwylan buzzes with excitement. His praises are spoken in the same tone as that of a person babying a cute animal.
“Who’s my good pet? Is it you? Oh, you did such a good job, I'm so proud of you!” He turns your head to the side so he can lean in and smother affection to your cheek. “Mwah! Mwah! Mw—mmph…”
His exaggerated noises die down as you manage to turn around to face him and capture his lips against yours. Gwylan, the person whose head is always racing with thoughts, hears nothing but static upon being met with your fervent kisses.
No matter how clumsy your attempts are from your head still spinning from exhilaration, they’re nothing short of bewitching to him. His urge to do this for all of eternity is so strong that it overwhelms him.
He feels the buzz of desire circulating all throughout his body just as rapidly and strongly as his heartbeat. All wistful lovers of the ocean face a similar problem: they can’t breathe when they’re submerged no matter how much they wish to be able to in order to continue enjoying the beauty of it. He pulls away with a desperate gasp for air as if he had actually been drowning.
Even a second away from him is painful. Out of indulgence, you try to lean back in but he gently pushes your face away.
Something’s quickly thumping against the bedsheets—it’s his tail. If he notices this, he pretends not to. His voice trembles a little. “Add greed to your list of sins. You’re lucky you’re so cute.”
You feel something hard poking at you again.
You aren’t the only one who’s been pent up this entire time. The worst part about it is that Gwylan can’t get himself off no matter how much he tries; rutting up against his hand or using a toy by himself doesn’t get him anywhere. Climaxing is rare for him and it’s only with you that he’s been able to achieve it.
You place a hand against his chest and then you go further and further down, practically pawing at him once you reach the soft hair that trails to your destination.
Feeling like your words wouldn’t do your thoughts any justice, you try to tug his only remaining article of clothes off. It’s honestly more weird that Gwylan hasn’t been completely naked this entire time given how transparent he is about loving being nude.
“Careful, dear.” He immediately grabs your hand to stop you.
Your hand is shaking, but you can’t quite tell whether you’re actually the one shaking or if he is.
“I’m afraid I’ll…” Fail to respect your wishes, he finishes in his head. He’s aware there’ll be a day where he fully corrupts you, and he’s doing everything in his power—even in spite of his primal instincts—to keep that day away. “If you truly want to help, just…lie down on your stomach.”
If you’re reckless enough to kiss him again, he’s not sure what he’ll do.
Without even knowing, you provide a way around that concern. “But I…I can use my mouth. I’m not very good at it but—”
As much as he likes the sound of it, your warm mouth would only make him fantasize about how amazing being deep inside you would feel.
And torture me by giving me a small taste of what I’m missing? How cruel.
“You’re eager to please. I like it.” He giggles, but his laughter lacks the spark it usually has. He gives your cheek a pat. “Maybe next time. Be good for me and behave.”
You swallow down your protests, giving him one last longing look and sighing. You get off his lap and move further up the bed to do as told. After having them tucked in for so long, you finally give your wings the liberty of stretching.
Naturally, Gwylan marvels at the sight of your wings spread out in all their glory. Wings, right. He has to tread carefully. His eyes flick back up to your shining halo, the one he loves to run his fingers over. It’d be a shame if it were to shatter into pieces and drag you down into the shadows.
He has to think rationally but all beasts have a second brain between their legs that can overpower the one in their head. Would it be so bad if he were to lose it, though? You’re the one who opened the channel for unbearable lust after kissing him all that time ago, after all.
Your heart races more and more with anticipation on what he might do. Eventually, he straddles you from behind. You can feel his hard-on pressing against the curve of your ass.
“You’re making this very hard for me, dear.”
“I’m not doing anything.” You mumble, knowing that his sharp ears can pick your words up easily. “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite, per your request.”
“You consume my every waking thought and even follow me into all my dreams. I would hardly call that nothing.”
“Wait, what—”
The question gets knocked out of your head when he starts rutting his hips against you. It feels so good he could drool, and yet, it isn’t nearly enough to sate him from any of his built-up desires. If anything, this is only adding more fuel to the fire.
He had a better time holding back during rituals since they’re done with an important purpose in mind. It’s different like this—with you right in front of him, no greater objective to achieve, and only one article of clothing preventing him from taking you.
His body’s mostly on autopilot, humping you to its own content to try and relieve its wants to no avail. His tails sways wildly behind him, though whether it’s mainly out of excitement or frustration is unclear.
Somehow, this feels even more exhilarating than the knotted dildo. Is this how he’d be if he was actually inside you? The thought makes you feel hot all over. You hold the bedsheets tighter and pray for a future where you’re somehow able to become one with him without breaking your vow.
“Pet…” He grits his words out as if it hurts. “I-I need you.”
What reassurance can you possibly give to a starving man who hungers for you if you can’t feed him?
Without the knowledge of the extent of his craving for you, all you know how to quietly say is what’s true in your heart, “you have me.”
Gwylan has you in many ways:
As someone to stop and smell the roses with.
As someone to speak the sea with.
And, as someone to share the burden with.
Oh, his naive pet. He can’t bring himself to say anything back, not when all that’s on his mind is the ardent need to defile you into ruin.
Wondering is a very dangerous thing in the face of lust. His mind is full of curiosity—how tightly would you squeeze your legs around his hips? How much would you struggle with maintaining eye contact? How would you react to him breathlessly rambling about his urge to breed you?
The same person who frequently hums a melody so beautiful that it calms down the forest is the same one who can only whine and whimper as he frantically bucks against you.
Truthfully, Gwylan has been yearning and lusting for you for a very long time now. He tries his best to control himself, but he often catches himself slipping.
Whenever he catches your scent in the wind while you explore the forest, he curiously tracks you down. It’s always with either a playful or kind intention such as sneaking up on you and giving you a twirl or giving you some of the best berries from a bush. But the part he suppresses wants to pin you down against the dirt, tug needily and recklessly at your clothes, sink his fangs against your neck, and fuck you mercilessly until the whole forest knows it.
And more than anything—he wants your reciprocation; he needs you to want him just as much.
During his ruts, all he can think about is you. Granted, you’re on his mind very often to begin with, but the desire to mate with his companion keeps him up at night, leaving him quietly and longingly whining for you.
Knotting you would make him very vulnerable if you happened to be on your back. You could easily reach for his face and kiss him with as much fervor as you wanted until the knot deflated; there’d be nowhere for him to run from everything he has ever wanted. The intimacy of it would be equally as thrilling as it would be frightening.
His head feels soft and fuzzy with thoughts of his cum buried deep inside you while you passionately and ungracefully claim his lips.
Gwylan abruptly tenses and lets out a soft drawn-out moan upon finishing. He weakly rides out his orgasm before slumping against your back and panting heavily.
It feels like there’s a warm, weighted blanket over you. You fight back the urge to doze off, which becomes even harder when you feel him caress one of your wings ever so softly and delicately, a complete contrast to how he had been moving just before.
After regaining his bearing, he moves to curl up by your side instead.
Wincing at the soreness of your limbs, you turn to your side to face him. The brightness of your halo accentuates the flush of his cheeks.
You brush away some of the strands clinging to his damp skin and he immediately avoids eye contact.
Searching for something to break the silence, he takes note of how soaked the sheets are and how much fluid is clinging to the two of you, “we’ve really made a mess.”
“Not to brag or anything but—” You’re briefly interrupted by a yawn. “I’m really good at washing bed sheets.”
“Temple duties?”
“You’d be surprised by how messy some of the monks can be.” You pause. “By the way, I’m…sorry.”
He regains the confidence to look back up at you, he giggles and playfully taps the tip of your nose. “There’s no need for apologies. But remember—always ask. If you wanted to experiment with sex toys, you could have just told me instead of resorting to stealing.”
You feel a little embarrassed at being reminded about that again, you murmur a ‘thank you’ under your breath before clearing things up. “I promise I will. But that’s not what I meant. I meant…you’re always the one pleasuring me and I…I feel like I haven’t done much for you.”
He blinks. Once. Twice.
“Oh, my sweet pet.” He pulls you closer and guides your head to his chest. “I’ll have you know that I really enjoy our intimacy. One doesn’t need to be touched in order to feel good. Haven’t you noticed that I…well…that I sometimes come when you do? In fact, it happened earlier.”
“It did?” You must’ve been so lost in your own world that you hadn’t even noticed he actually came twice.
“And plus,” his blush becomes even more prominent. “I did say earlier that next time you could use your mouth on me.”
Your worry subsides and is replaced with excitement for the future. “You’re right, you did. Also..”
“Yes, dear?” He’s fully prepared to soothe you again.
You should’ve brought this question up before this. You would feel somewhat at a loss if this had all started based on a false assumption.
Hesitantly, you ask, “are you able to knot?”
That catches him off guard
“I—” He feels shy again. “I am. I’ve never been able to before though because…”
He decides against giving you an explanation. You asked a simple yes or no question and he replied appropriately so there’s no need for him to say more.
But oh, he should’ve known better than to think he could escape your curiosity.
“Because?”
Because he hadn’t been poisoned by your kiss back then. You managed to charm the most enigmatic witch in town, sentencing his heart to complete disorder. And by doing so, you unlocked a part of him he struggles to keep under control.
But instead, what Gwylan says is: “I think there’s a customer downstairs.”
“What?”
“I should go attend to them.” He suddenly sits up.
“What? But…” You let your eyes do the talking, trailing them over his bare torso and then down to the wet spot just a little further below.
“I’m sure the people in this town would appreciate this look, thank you very much.”
“You said business was slow the other day.”
“Slow business doesn’t mean zero customers.”
You’re utterly confused.
“They can just leave exact change. You leave this place open when you go to Sam’s cafe for breakfast.” Sitting up, you pull him into your arms, draping your wings over the two of you like a blanket without a care in the world if you come across as clingy. “Stay.”
Gwylan’s heart softens and he melts against you. But deep down, he feels a bit unsettled with the knowledge of what the future might hold.
Perhaps your question will turn out to be completely unnecessary soon.
After all, you’re dangerously close to experiencing the answer yourself.
despite your knowledge on how transformations come to be, it never crossed your mind that one could occur because of gwylan. needless to say, this only brings you closer to him | x gn!reader, MDNI
an angel's relief
angels with chastity vows aren’t immune to the temptation of worldly pleasure, and gwylan (your personal walking aphrodisiac) helps you get some relief | x gn!reader, MDNI
love will swallow you whole
love is dangerous for someone like gwylan—he’s all too aware of the pain that can come from it | x gn!reader, MDNI
𓏲˚. ˖ . ݁ KYLAR . ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘
just pathetic at this point
in which you ask your stalker to milk you after weeks of getting no relief | x gn!reader, MDNI
novice kisses & lit up eyes part ii
you find yourself reciprocating kylar’s feelings in a world that seems to have it out for him | x gn!reader, MDNI
the first (and perhaps last) to ever touch
you find out kylar’s been creeping on one of the sweet orphans and decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. it doesn’t end like you thought it would | x gn!reader, MDNI
honeyed affection & autumn's promise
it’s hard for autumn—the season of change—to not become kylar’s favorite season when it transitions him into a stage of safety and love | x gn!reader
three lust-struck hearts beneath a cross
in which kylar finds himself in bed with not only his lover, but the first ever recipient of his longing—sydney | x gn!reader, MDNI
who’s the most pathetic of them all?
toying with kylar is one of the best sources of entertainment | x gn!reader, MDNI
𓏲˚. ˖ . ݁ WHITNEY . ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘
hate you (want you) a little too much
with the changes in your body comes the unwanted desire for the peer you hate the most—whitney. said peer relishes your predicament a little too much | x gn!reader, MDNI
