♱

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.

I do think Gwylan loves the PC at the end of his content for now. His interest at 100 will turn into Love on Dol Vanilla, he gets super affectionate, and it changes from wanting to do the ritual to just wanting to mate with you.

I just think that love isn't the one most people are thinking of. Where he respects your boundaries and is a true pure love where he loves you like a person. The way Robin or Sydney love the PC is not the same way Gwylan does.

Even pushing aside the forced petplay he drops in the PC's lap, It's not really an master and pet relationship fully to me. I would call it a witch and their favorite treasure.

I want to really focus on their confession scene because it really sets the tone for how Gwylan loves you and sees you this whole time.

This is from reddit because I can't pull it from my own save and I didn't screenshot at the time. Evil work that the Scene Viewer doesn't have this.

Link

Everything in his shop reminds him of something, someone. Memories long past, of the lives he used to be before being Gwylan. Take the Chain Tunic for example, the one belonging to Fayne.

This screenshot is from another save of mine.

Deadly protective and really attached to it, the only thing reminding them of Fayne. I can't help but think, the PC is like that for them.

"You're a treasure I can't have" A treasure that walks and has a mind of it's own. A treasure that can just disappear in the corruption of this town one day and he won't hear from you. He makes it clear that he worries about missing you, telling you in the cafe that if you ever disappear, he would dearly miss you.

Now, he also says that he doesn't actually love you. I would say his yearning isn't high enough. Multiple times in his route, it seems that he is actively holding himself back.

From the kiss scene where he kisses back, to how he keeps going to hold your hand but to pull away, or that he longs to sink you deeper into his hypnosis. His yearning is him slowly falling in love with you, unable to hold himself back at some point.

To the point where he starts kissing your cheek and you many times, becoming more affectionate the longer this goes. I still think he views you as a treasure though, judging by how he just ignores your consent and your identity as a person.

At highest yearning, he ignores your freedom, something that he was worry about at the start of it. He puts a collar on you, that lets him go to you whenever he wants, that shocks anyone that tries to take it off, that marks you as his.

His treasure that he can now take anytime, no matter how far they go. His to keep and own no matter what they think or want.

I like to add that with Harpy players, that Gwylan can request that he personally preen your wings. When you do, you get this trait.

Hmm..Preening a bird so thoroughly that they can't fly away from you. Many thoughts on you, Gwylan.

He also calls you the nickname Canary, a bird people tend to know as ones who sings in mines. When it stops singing, poison gas would be in the mines.

I wonder, who would be the poison in this scenario then.

One more thing, about Fayne and Nona. In Ending S, Nona actually returns Fayne's affections and is taken away by him. He takes care of them the rest of their lives, making Nona gain the Stockholm Syndrome Trait with him.

Nona gets this trait because well, her body is all fucked up and she needs someone to take care of it until she can get a new one. Also you need to be very, very dedicated to her. You need to put flowers in her hair, wash it, get her robes, save her, and make a deal with the Ivory Wraith.

Fayne has to care for her, more then any other route and dedicated his life to her, devoted in a way.

Like the PC is for Gwylan.

Devoted to their witch, only feeling whole when they are with them. Like a cycle repeating itself.

But this time, the witch's body is healthy and whole, with a collar and leash on the gaoler.

I wonder, if the PC ever got into a soft bad ending with such high yearning, with Gwylan having such a tight hold on them, and they disappear for a while...

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.