FrancexReader: Prisoner

FrancexReader: Prisoner. Part 1

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As you walked down the street, you couldn't help but feel you were being followed. Turning your head slightly, you gasped as, with a flash of blue eyes and blonde hair, a large pair of hands took hold of you and held a cloth to your mouth. You became dizzy, and felt black numbness take over.

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You woke, your eyes burning and seemingly filled with lead. As the light filtered in through the unfamiliar, curtain covered window, you felt that you had quite the headache. It pulsed with the bright sunlight shining in. With as much light as you had, you looked around, wanting to know your surroundings… and just where the hell you were.
You were lying on a bed- handcuffed to the bed post, actually- in a small room, smelling of perfume, roses and sweat. Wrinkling your nose, you looked down at the floor. Discarded clothes were everywhere… But they were familiar- besides the random bras- and you suddenly felt wary of whose house you were in… whose bed you were trapped on.
Oh God, no… not 'Him'! You thought. Looking back up to your trapped hand, you wondered how the hell you'd get out of there. Pulling your arm back, trying to pull out your hand, you found yourself unsuccessful, and began to get frustrated every time you attempted to get free. Sighing, you lied back and calmed down. No progress would be made if you were frustrated. But when you were finally able to focus again, the door of the bedroom- or prison in your case- swung open, and in walked the tall French man.
"Ah, good morning, my little prisoner~" he cooed. Coming to the side of the bed farthest from you, he placed a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast on an end table. "Did you sleep well ____?" Francis Bonnefoy smiled, looking back up at you.
Glaring at your capturer, you hissed, "Let me go, Francis, this isn't even remotely funny!"
"Funny? Non, it wasn't meant to be funny, mon cheri…" Francis sat down next to you on the bed, taking the plate again and setting it in his lap. "It was meant to be romantic. Is it not?"
"Not in the slightest bit!" You spit, attempting to pull your hand free again. Growling as you failed again, you felt his eyes on you. Turning to meet them, you saw the amused look on his face. His lips were pulled into a soft smirk, and his chin rested in her hand as he watched you. He seemed to be studying you. Looking over every bit of your body, he looked down and then back up, locking eyes with you.
"You're so beautiful…" He said softly. His light blue eyes seemed to be staring right through you, and you suddenly felt the urge to cover yourself, even though your clothes were still intact and on your body.
"Shut up, bastard, and let me go…" You said, growing impatient. The French man chuckled and stuck his fork in the eggs. Reaching out, he grabbed your face and forced your mouth open, shoving the fork of eggs into your mouth. He held your mouth closed, and you were forced to eat the eggs. You couldn't deny they were delicious, even if you tried.
"Oui… Eat… You're going to need energy~" Francis winked, releasing your jaw. He went back for another forkful of eggs. As he fed you, you wondered what the hell he had planned to do with you- although you had quite the idea- and decided it would be best to go along with it. You might be able to sweet talk your way free.
After breakfast, Francis left you to put the plate away. Taking the chance you had, quickly, you reached into your hair for a bobby-pin. You had learnt to pick a lock from your friend Gilbert last summer, and so maybe picking the handcuffs lock would be just as easy. Pulling on out, you stuck it into your trapped hands holder. Twisting and turning the pin, you felt for the unlocking of the cuffs. Just as you managed to get them to release you, Francis came in again and smirked.
"Well, well, well…" He said softly, closing the door behind himself, locking it. "You're smarter then you look…"
Standing from the bed, you glared at him through icy eyes. "Piss off, Francis. Let me outta here, now!"
He chuckled and walked up to you, "I don't think I will, mon cheri. You're quite the clever one... I rather like your intelligence. It's different. But a problem for yourself…"
Before asking how, or in anyway retort, Francis closed the space between the two of you, latching his lips to yours. He gripped your shoulders, preventing you from pulling away. Despite your protesting sounds, muffled by his lips, he continued kissing you, and you felt yourself giving up. Damn you, French bastard… You thought, closing your eyes and accepting your fate.
After a moment or so, you felt the bed beneath you. What was to come next, you found a surprise. As Francis, prepared to take your body and use it to his pleasure, he opened his eyes and looked at the shame, hurt and pure depression on your face. Usually, this was normal with his prostitutes, but... there was something about the look on your face… It was different to him... it pained him to see you like this. You were strong, fiery and stubborn, and he liked that about you. But now, as he had you like he had wanted you for so long… he felt a pang of regret in his heart, and pulled himself off of you. This wasn't how he really wanted her. Given up, looking so small, weak, frail beneath him… This wasn't you. This wasn't his ___.
And with that, Francis left you lying there on the bed, confused and relieved. He locked the bedroom door behind himself, sealing you in. No… You weren't the strong, beautiful, fiery, passionate ___ that he craved so much. He wanted you the way you were. He wanted that __. He needed that ___. He loved that ___.