#ferro x reader

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

a/n: fluff, implied female reader (”princess” pet name). I have no idea how to deal with the brainriot that came with the appearance of this shady man, like what.

Honest Fellow (teasing kisses)

“My little star,” Fellow’s lips trail your knuckles, and you can feel a smile against your skin as he senses your pulse quicken. He has the audacity to look so gentlemanly, oh so very blithely, as if this idea has just struck his head under this evening’s romantic atmosphere. “May I have this kiss?”

You’d like to reply, really, but in the next second there are lips on your jawline and a glowed hand that raises your chin; the words you had on your tongue die as you gasp slightly, your eyes fluttering open by the sudden sensation.

Well, you’re charmed. Infatuated with love or ensorceled by a thick layer of Fellow’s unique magic, you don’t reject those dramatic touches, scenic enough to feel like being pulled into a play where a gentlemanly prince kisses a princess.

And while Fellow might have the reputation of being a gentleman, he’s too impish, too rouge to be one. He can only play the role, the facade might even drop, but dumb princesses—you dare to compare yourself to one as Fellow uses that pet name, among countless others—are known for falling even for twisted men.

“Why so quiet?” He asks, and you quiver with frustration, as he seals your lips again. That damn bastard; he thinks the navy suit he wears makes him look sleek and the way he tucks his holey gloves off is luscious enough to make your cheeks blush. He isn’t that wrong, yet…

…It is infuriating to dance to Fellow’s tune in a choreography he is a lead to. Even if you love him.

“Stop… teasing me like this,” you manage to lift your head enough so that you break the kiss. Fellow snorts at your poor attempt to catch a breath and at the weak try to keep him at your elbow’s distance, as he holds you close to his chest. The sweet scent of the cologne he wears makes you even more dizzy.

He moves his hands to your hair and tucks the stray locks behind your ear. If he could grab the camera, he would capture the adorable expression you wear—but he doesn’t want to waste his time searching for that fickle thing, no, no. He isn’t able to concentrate on anything else, and he needs to satisfy the whim of alluring you (once again) before he’ll be physically able to move away.

“My, you don’t sound very convincing,” he smiles and strokes your cheek so gently. “But I will believe you. Loveliest, just say a word, and I’ll just kiss you goodnight for the last time.”

Like you could’ve expected, you aren’t granted a chance to say anything else. He kisses you more and more, and at this point, the most fastidious princess would be already satisfied.

…Fellow might be scared. He might not want to hear your answer, even if the look in your eyes and the way your heart beats should be enough to suffice any of his questions.

If you could utter a word, you would confess your love once for the thousandth time.

“That’s right. The silence says it all,” he whispers as his thumb traces your lips. “You are so gorgeous, and you are mine.”

Like a doll. But you’re no doll, you’re more beautiful than any masterpiece magic could ever create. You’re free, and you choose to stay with him. There are no strings attached to your hands that keep him at his side. There is just one, tightly knotted on your heart and it’s a cherished bond you put on yourself.

He doesn’t have a puppet in you. He has a lover who will shower him with selfless love, yet he still can’t believe anyone would have given it to him for free.

So, he must’ve stolen it.

He smiles. “By obligation of being a thief, I will steal your heart all over again, and keep it safe with me.” I love you. "That’s the duty I owe to myself as you are my treasure.”