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cherienymphe · 3 days ago

Text

His Little Bird

Carmine Falcone x Reader

Warnings: DUB-CON (bordering Non-Con), violence, power imbalance, escort!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @whimsicalrogers

summary: Carmine would rather clip your wings so long as it kept you right where he wanted you.

⭑

You paused in your counting, lips parted as you looked between the bills in your hand and making sure you counted that right.

“You–.”

“I gave you what I wanted you to have.”

You looked over your shoulder at those words, blinking at him for a moment.

Carmine was buttoning up his suit jacket, paying you no mind as your brows drew together in a slight frown. You contemplated between voicing your confusion or simply taking the extra money with a smile. After all, Carmine Falcone wasn’t the kind of man you questioned about anything, but your curiosity won you over, and you took the risk.

“...why?” you hesitantly asked him.

Your question came out soft, but you knew he heard you. He didn’t answer you right away, and part of you started to accept that he was going to ignore your question entirely when he proved you wrong.

“You don’t need it?”

The question was obviously rhetorical, and you looked down.

“No, no I do. I just…” you shrugged. “I charge the same every time, and you’ve always paid exactly that so I was confused.”

When you looked up again, his gaze was already on you, and you watched him slide those familiar shades over his eyes.

“That’s all,” you weakly added.

You remained seated at your desk chair as he approached you, his shoes against the floor sounding so loud in your otherwise quiet room. When his fingers gently met your jaw, you relaxed under the familiar ministration. You gave him a small smile when his thumb brushed along your skin.

“Anybody ever told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

You gave a soft closed mouth chuckle at that, nodding.

“Sorry. Thank you,” you finally told him as he stepped away from you.

You were right behind him as he made his way to your door, grabbing his coat from the couch on the way.

“Buy yourself something nice,” he told you as you let him out. “Maybe a bigger bed.”

The hallway in your apartment complex was poorly lit as he crossed the threshold, and you watched him disappear down the stairs before returning inside. When you made your way back into your bedroom, you approached the window, eyes landing on that familiar expensive car when you looked down into the street.

Carmine stepped out of your building only a moment later, and like always, he turned to glance up at you before dipping inside the backseat.

The moment the car disappeared down the street, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. In a matter of seconds, you became all too aware of the soreness in your neck and the dull ache between your legs. With a small sigh, you looked down at the money on your desk, pulling your lip between your teeth at the extra $500 staring back at you.

You knew what Carmine said, but you couldn’t help but to frown at it.

Gotham had no shortage of corrupt and immoral men, and so you saw no reason why you shouldn’t take advantage of that. Most of them only ever seemed to want one thing from girls like you, and you didn’t see the harm in making sure you got something out of it too. It certainly allowed for you to be as selective as you wanted with who you gave your time to, and Carmine Falcone was someone you’d given your time and energy to on numerous occasions.

It was always the same—you met up, he liked what he liked and never went over an hour, and a grand was in your hand before he walked out of the door. Of your small handful of regulars, you were reluctant to admit that Carmine was your favorite. He was simple and consistent, and unlike some people, he understood how this worked.

He was predictable…until now.

He wasn’t what you would call a soft man—although sometimes he seemed uncharacteristically soft with you—and he certainly didn’t just do things out of the kindness of his heart. There was no wool over your eyes about the kind of man Carmine was…and yet…he’d given you an extra five-hundred dollars tonight for what? Because he felt like it? Because you, as he so politely reminded you, needed it? It was very strange, and it unfortunately plagued your thoughts well into the night, robbing you of much needed sleep.

“That happened to me once,” one of your friends told you a few days later. “He was a real decent guy, you know?”

She tapped her coffee mug in her hand.

“Simple and easy and not bad on the eyes either, but then one day he starts paying me way above my rate, and then he starts buying me all these gifts. I’m talking handbags and shoes and jewelry—the real stuff.”

A frown passed over her features then.

“The penny finally dropped, of course. He wanted to take me out on a real date and was talking about pursuing a real relationship with me,” she sighed. “He wanted me to give it all up, and he’d been trying to butter me up to the idea, and I told him ‘look this is how much I make a week and if you can’t maintain what I’m used to then I’m just getting screwed over here by someone who might dump in a month’.”

She suddenly chuckled to herself.

“You should’ve seen how mad he got,” she shrugged. “Naturally, that was the end of that, and I imagine he found some other girl to sweet talk into becoming his kept girlfriend.”

You mulled over her words before eventually shaking your head.

“No, he… I promise you, that is the last thing this guy wants.”

She tilted her head at you.

“Trust me, if you even knew who I was talking about,” you trailed off with a genuine chuckle. “This man likes his image, and sure, he may pay us and buy us drinks when the occasion calls for it, but he’s not trying to butter me up so he can parade me on his arm.”

“Well, how do you know?”

She continued before you could argue that.

“You are a bit of a sweetheart,” she gently teased, poking your arm. “I think you could melt anyone’s cold heart.”

You knew that she wasn’t completely joking, and that only made you roll your eyes.

The idea of Carmine Falcone ever pursuing an actual relationship with you was laughable for so many reasons, but namely because of who he was. He practically ran Gotham, and you sometimes wondered why he didn’t just go ahead and become Mayor. It’s not like it would be the first time a corrupt politician was in charge, and you were sure he could ensure he’d win with no problem.

You’d even brought it up to him once while he’d been getting undressed.

“You just seem like a guy who likes being in charge,” you’d said, cheek resting on your arms as you watched him. “Surely being Mayor is way better than running some businesses.”

You’d watched him unbutton the cuffs of his shirt, immediately pushing yourself to your knees as he approached you.

“Being the Mayor isn’t as powerful as you think, sweetheart,” he’d told you in that low baritone of his.

“Oh?” you’d cheekily wondered as you undid his tie, sliding it from around his neck. “You know something I don’t?”

He hadn’t responded, only throwing you a crooked smile, and moments later the conversation was forgotten entirely.

Your rapport and relationship with the man was nice enough, but truthfully, everything could be nice enough when money was involved. Fact of the matter was that he was a kingpin from a revered family, and you simply couldn’t fathom that your friend’s situation was currently yours. Carmine Falcone paid you chump change to have sex with him and let him choke you, and when it was over, he got to pretend you didn’t even exist. What more could the man possibly want from you?

Your nails dug into the hand around your throat, a choked gasp escaping your lips as your stomach harshly pressed against the pool table from the force of his thrusts. The billiard balls rolled around on the surface of the table, and your free hand was pressed against the material to steady yourself. Every time your eyes started to close, it was like he could sense it, and he’d hit you with a particularly hard thrust.

When Carmine wanted to have you brought to the Shoreline Lofts, you had to admit that your curiosity made you excited. You’d never been to the loft before, and you’d always been curious about it every time you found yourself at the Iceberg Lounge. While you prepared yourself for what was undoubtedly going to take place the moment you arrived, you hadn’t expected it the very moment you stepped out of the elevator.

With no time to even take it all in, you’d found yourself manhandled and bent over the pool table within a minute.

It was reminiscent of the few times Carmine stepped into your apartment without a word, hands on your arms to guide you exactly where he wanted you. Just like those times, not a single word left his lips, and his tight grip on your throat told you that this was purely about frustration. He didn’t make a habit of talking about work with you, not a fan of pillow talk, but the few times it came up in conversation, you surmised that it was a lot more than just a king sitting on his throne and telling people what to do.

You always knew when someone fucked up because your body bore the brunt of it.

When he came, it was with a grunt, and spots danced in your vision from how hard he was choking you. Your nails scraped against the felt of the pool table, and when he let you go, your knees buckled. You were miraculously able to hold yourself up while he got presentable, and before you could pull your dress back down with your trembling hands, Carmine beat you to it. When you started to help him, he stopped you by grabbing your hand and putting a thick roll of money in it, and you eyed it.

Even without counting it, you could tell that it was too much…again.

You were fighting to catch your breath, trying to hurry up and do so and question him about this again because you really didn’t know how to feel about this becoming a habit. However, you didn’t get the chance to, Carmine putting his phone to his ear as he told Kenzie to escort you back downstairs.

“My driver will take you home,” he told you as you straightened, struggling to do so as he ended the call. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

You frowned at him at that, and once again, your confusion almost prompted you to question him for a second time when the sound of the elevator reached your ears. Choosing to just coast along on the current that was Carmine Falcone, you made your way to the familiar police officer as he escorted you into the lift. You tucked the money into your purse as you mulled over his words, wondering if you understood him correctly and that meant he’d be riding home with you.

No one in the club paid you any mind with the exception of a familiar face or two that paid you for your time in the same manner that Carmine did. As you followed Kenzie out, you were even tempted to charm your way into getting the other man to reveal a thing or two about his boss that would explain his strange behavior lately, but Kenzie was nothing if not professional around you.

When you slid into the backseat of Carmine’s car, the driver didn’t take off, confirming your earlier suspicions. It only added to your confusion, and you found yourself unable to relax during a time where you’d be nothing but relaxed. Your conversation with your friend came to mind, and you bit your lip. You weren’t about to jump to any conclusions, but one thing was certain.

Your once predictable client was becoming quite the opposite.

You were unsurprised when the dark-haired man slid into the backseat next to you about fifteen minutes later, his driver pulling off and taking a familiar route almost immediately. It felt strange to be sitting beside him in the backseat of his car. Either he was showing up at your door or he was sending his driver to take you to him, the same driver taking you home once you were done. You were already paid for your time and it didn’t exactly include the ride home, so you didn’t know if you should attempt small talk or ignore the thought of keeping up pretenses altogether.

You were almost to your complex when he finally spoke after a silent ride.

“I want to discuss something with you.”

You finally looked at him just as the car slowed to a stop, and you gave him your full attention, both nervous and wary of what he was about to say.

“When you count that money tonight, you’ll see that it’s a lot more than an extra half a grand tacked onto it…”

You took a deep breath at having that confirmed too, giving him a soft ‘okay’.

“...but I’m sure you already guessed that. You’re a smart girl,” he said to you, finally looking at you. “...and I have no doubt you’ve thought about why.”

You only nodded, feeling wholly in the dark about where this conversation was going.

“My businesses are steadily growing, and with more demand comes more hands to hire to meet those demands…”

“Right.”

“That means more money, yes, but that also comes with more screw ups from new people and more stress from the screw ups…and I’ve been finding myself a lot more stressed these days,” he continued.

You thought to yourself that this was the most he ever talked about his line of work, but you didn’t have the proper chance to linger on that because he was revealing the point of this conversation.

“I want you to free up your time—all of it. I’ll pay whatever I need to.”

It took a few moments for his words—and the meaning behind them—to process, but once they did, you blinked. Then you blinked again, lips parting before you mentally told yourself to close them. Carmine didn’t look away from you the entire time, feeling the weight of that intense gaze even from behind his shades. Telling yourself that your silence was bordering on rude, you cleared your throat.

“Can I think about it?”

It was obvious he hadn’t been expecting that response, even if he didn’t show it, but his silence told you enough. He took a deep breath, and you knew it wasn’t because he actually needed it, but because he was thinking about what to say to you and how to say it. It was interesting to think that because Carmine had been seeing you for a few years now, you knew more about him than probably anyone else.

People tended to reveal a lot about themselves in between the sheets, whether they intended to or not.

“What’s there to think about?” he asked you, voice lowering in the dark car.

Only a lamp on the street lit the side of his face.

“It sounds all good and dandy, Carmine, but what happens when business starts running smoothly again and you don’t need me for stress management anymore and I’ve cut off all my other regulars?”

You licked your lips under his unwavering gaze.

“It just doesn’t seem smart.”

“Have I ever not taken care of you?” he asked you, and you almost wanted to laugh.

“I provide a service, and you pay my rates. Outside of these last couple of meetups, I wouldn’t really call that ‘taking care’ of me,” you hesitantly answered.

Only silence followed your response, and you wondered if you’d crossed the line—if you’d offended Carmine Falcone.

The longer the silence stretched, the more nervous and unsure you became, but you didn’t dare look away from him. When he lifted his hand, you actually flinched, and you didn’t know if it was a trick of the light, but you swore that the corner of his mouth curved. You only relaxed some when his thumb met your chin, his index finger gently grazing underneath.

“Alright,” he finally relented, to your surprise. “Think about it…but don’t think about it too long, okay?”

Your brows drew together at that, getting the feeling that he only expected one answer when it was all said and done, and you had a feeling it wasn’t ‘no’.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m just not feeling well,” you said over the phone. “I should be available next week.”

The man on the other side sighed, his familiar voice wishing you a speedy recovery albeit with an exasperated mumble. When he hung up the phone, it was your turn to sigh, closing your eyes in frustration. Even the simple act of sighing made you wince, and you mentally cursed Carmine Falcone to whatever hell birthed him. Slamming your work phone down onto your nightstand with a bitter satisfaction, you made your way to your kitchen to make some tea.

When you told Carmine you’d think about his offer and when he told you not to think for too long, you knew then that he eventually expected an enthusiastic ‘yes’. After all, in his eyes not only was it an offer you’d be silly to pass up, but why would you ever say no to him? What you hadn’t expected, however, was for the rich man to essentially punish you for your hesitation.

You reached up to graze your cheek, wincing at the skin to skin contact.

Carmine had met up with you days ago, and you were still sporting the evidence of it. He claimed that the stress of things at work got the best of him, but you knew better than that, and you didn’t doubt that he knew you knew. The man liked to be a little rough in bed—wearing a few bruises along your neck in the past—and you got paid to fulfill a service, not judge, but you knew that this was different.

Not once had the other man ever slapped you, bit you hard enough to draw blood, and choked you so hard that you actually passed out. When you came to, you’d been all alone with the sheet covering your frame and a thicker stack of cash on your desk. For a brief moment after coming to, you’d even forgotten what had happened. The bruises in the mirror afterwards were nothing in comparison to how they’d darkened over the course of a day or two.

You knew that Carmine was vicious at times, but you suppose you’d never given him a reason to be so towards you.

When the number of the man in question flashed across your phone hours later, your heart actually skipped a beat. You contemplated ignoring it, but there was no doubt that would bring about a whole new slew of problems if he thought you were ignoring him. Blinking back angry and frustrated tears, you answered on the fourth ring.

“What?”

You didn’t even try to hide your annoyance.

“Is that any way to greet me?”

You sighed, and he seemingly let it slide, continuing before you could respond.

“I’ll be coming by tonight. I should be there in no more than an–.”

“I can’t tonight,” you cut him off, tapping your fingers against your thigh. “I’m not feeling well.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Did you come down with something?”

Feeling like you’d be caught in a lie, you sighed.

“No, but–.”

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

The line went dead before you could even process that, and the breath you let out was full of frustration. The thought of going through tonight what you went through the other night made a ball of dread form deep in your gut, and you wondered what would happen should you choose to just…not answer your door. If anyone in this city could scare you though, it was Carmine Falcone, so when that knock came exactly one hour later, you were slow to answer it.

…but you answered it nonetheless.

You gazed at him through the cracked door, one hand on the wall as he stood in the hallway in all of his glory.

“Carmine, I told you that I don’t feel good,” you whispered.

He merely hummed at you, the facial hair above his lip twitching.

“You don’t look sick to me…”

You rubbed your forehead in frustration.

“That doesn’t matter…”

Your words died in the air as he moved towards you anyway, pushing the door back and forcing his way by you with ease.

“Carmine…!”

You quickly shut the door behind you, hurrying towards him.

“I told you that I can’t tonight–.”

“Is this about this?” he evenly asked you, gesturing to your appearance. “You’re calling out sick because I got a little rough with you?”

“Bullshit!”

It came out before you could stop yourself, and you regretted it almost as soon as you said it but before you could let that fear linger, tears kissed your eyes against your will as he callously mentioned your last meeting. You attempted to turn away when he reached for your face, pushing at his hand and hating yourself for crying in front of him.

“What is this?” he harshly asked you. “What are you crying for?”

When you finally shoved his hands away, you turned your back on him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Got a little rough with me?” you quietly repeated, looking over your shoulder at him. “Look at my face, Carmine!”

You gestured wildly to your throat.

“Look at my neck…”

You collapsed onto the couch, hands in your lap as you looked up at him.

“Why did you do that to me?” you asked him, voice cracking. “...because you were mad at me? Because I told you something other than yes?”

You really hated that you were crying in front of him, but while you’d had your fair share of bad experiences with men in this line of work, the other night with the man in front of you felt so different. You didn’t know if it was because you and Carmine had known each other for years and a level of trust had been built between you—because you both needed to trust each other on some level for this to work after all—or because he’d gone out of his way to intentionally hurt and demean you for daring to tell him anything other than what he wanted to hear.

Maybe it was a mix of both.

“I told you I’d think about it,” you whispered.

“There isn’t much to think about unless you plan on turning me down.”

You closed your eyes at that, wiping your face with a sniffle.

“Carmine, it’s not just about bills, you know. I have a future to plan and think about and I cannot cut off every other man I regularly see just to put all of my eggs in one precarious basket,” you tearfully spat at him.

“I told you that I would pay whatever you need me to,” he eventually said, slowly moving to sit in the loveseat across from you. “Surely you don’t think I’d have any problem taking care of you and giving you more than enough to plan whatever future you’re imagining.”

You briefly closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Carmine, you scare the hell out of me. God forbid I piss you off again–what are you going to do, break my jaw next time?” you quietly wondered. “I had to turn down two of my regulars this week because of you.”

You watched him watch you as he leaned back into the chair, an elbow on the armrest.

“Do you think that’s something I’d be upset to hear?”

You blinked at him with a frown before briefly glancing away, struggling to swallow.

“Is this really about work and the stress it’s causing you?” you finally asked, voice hushed.

Carmine held your gaze.

“I would be a liar if I said that the thought of you only taking my money doesn’t upset me, at all.”

You slowly nodded at that, wanting to let out a humorless laugh.

“...and if I said no?”

There were a few moments of silence before his shoulders rose and fell.

“Well…we’d just cross that bridge when we got there.”

You didn’t like his tone at that, and you shuddered as you brought your legs up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees.

“I could just leave, you know. The world doesn’t start and end with Gotham,” you lightly threatened. “...and there will always be someone willing to pay to spend the night with a pretty woman.”

“...and what makes you so sure I’d allow that to happen?”

Your face crumbled again at that, and you threw your head back.

“Carmine… There are plenty of girls who work at your club who also do what I do,” you said to him, frustration coloring your tone. “Plenty who would be ecstatic to–.”

“I don’t know those girls like I know you.”

His response was simple—and understandable—enough.

When you didn’t have a response for that, he sighed, and you watched him stand with wide and fearful eyes.

“Well…so long as you’re still mulling it over…”

You jerked your hand back when he reached for you.

“We might as well do what I came here to do.”

“I told you–Carmine, no…”

You were pressed against the couch as he towered over you, and he paused at that, so still as he stared down at you that it genuinely terrified you.

“No?” he hummed. “I really hope I won’t have to hear that a second time.”

“Carmine, please…”

“Don’t you need the money?” he wondered as he roughly pulled you off of the couch. “After all, you had to turn down two offers this week because of me, right? Hmm?”

You kept digging your feet into the floor while he manhandled you towards your bedroom. His hands were tight on your arm and waist, and you winced at the pressure on parts of you that were already sore.

“Isn’t that what you said? Let me make up for that…”

“Stop! I–.”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when you found yourself shoved onto your bed, and your attempt to move back away from him was cut short when he pulled you back to him by your ankle. No matter what you did, he was successful in getting you right where he wanted you, and the thought of enduring another night like the other night had the words tumbling from your lips without hesitation.

“I’ll do it!”

He didn’t hear you at first—or was enjoying scaring you too much—and so you repeated yourself louder, the words coming out more jumbled because of your tears. When he finally paused, you swore that you could feel your heartbeat in your throat, and when his hand loosened around your neck, you let out a choked sigh of relief.

“I’ll do it,” you tearfully told him as he let you sit up. “My time is… It’s all yours, now.”

Carmine didn’t respond right away, but he did rest his hand on your unblemished cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin as he looked over you. He let out a deep hum, taking your chin between his fingers.

“I knew you’d see things my way,” he told you, and you wiped your face. “Besides…”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, hand on your jaw.

“You’re soft,” he murmured against your skin. “Always have been, and it can’t hurt to have me around more.”

His lips moved from your forehead to your cheek and then finally your lips, his other hand resting on your waist. Your heart sped up in your chest, and you made a small noise of protest just before he shushed you.

“I’ll be gentle tonight,” he told you, voice low and rough. “I promise.”

You recognized that you didn’t exactly have a choice, and you blinked back tears as he laid you back down although a few did escape despite your efforts.

Carmine kept his promise, his hands the most gentle they’d ever been while he kept you in his lap, lips brushing over the bruising on your throat. The sensitive parts of your skin were going to hurt regardless, and every time you tensed up at every touch, he shushed you with what you were sure was meant to be a comforting sound.

“You’re alright,” he said to you while he guided you up and down his cock. “Just a little banged up…”

It wasn’t lost on you that had you given a different response tonight, you’d be ‘a little banged up’ even more, and you shuddered when he pulled you closer. Your professional relationship that thrived on mutual benefits had morphed into something a bit more sinister overnight, and you wondered just how truthful Carmine had been when he insinuated that having you all to himself was only a minor perk to his proposition.

As he flipped you over and gently pressed his hips against yours, you wondered if that was the goal all along.

#Carmine Falcone x reader #carmine falcone #the penguin #the penguin hbo #mark strong #the batman #dc comics #dc fanfic #dc imagine

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