Originally posted by qveendiorsworld

Carmine Falcone x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, age gap, power imbalance, mentions of organized crime

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

Summary: Your friendship with Sofia Falcone is tested when her father decides you aren’t just good for his daughter, but him too.

⭑

Your gaze was pulled away from the coat in front of you by the sound of your name, a familiar voice carrying it. You felt like a deer caught in headlights, thinking to yourself that you could only be this shocked to see one other person and you found yourself briefly scanning the mall for him as she approached you. Sofia Falcone wasted no time pulling you into a hug, completely oblivious to your demeanor.

“I thought that was you,” she said, her Jersey accent strong. “Last time I talked to you you told me you were sick.”

There was a bit of an accusatory tone in her voice, but she didn’t look upset as she pulled back to look at you. You wouldn’t blame her if she was though, you did lie to her, after all. The lie you told her a week ago was fresh in your mind as she brought it up, and you licked your lips, preparing to lie to her again.

“Yeah, yeah, I was, but…” you shrugged. “You know me. Nothing makes me feel good like looking good.”

Sofia chuckled at that, turning to look into the window you were just gazing into yourself.

“It is gorgeous,” she agreed. “…and it would look so beautiful on you.”

You sheepishly waved her off.

“You know I can’t afford that,” you replied.

“Like that’s ever been a problem,” the other woman scoffed. “Let me buy it for you.”

“Sofia, no–.”

“What’s going on with you?”

Her sudden question took you by surprise, and you snapped your mouth shut as she frowned at you. You hadn’t expected her to acknowledge the elephant in the room, and you felt bad at the hurt on her face.

“If I have it, you have it, you know that. It’s been that way practically since we met, and now all of a sudden you don’t want my money?”

“No, it’s not like that…”

“…and we haven’t hung out properly in months, and every time I bring it up it’s always some excuse with you.”

You looked away, eyes landing on the other shoppers in the building.

“You gotta go see your mom or you have an interview or you’re sick,” she gestured to your perfectly fine demeanor. “We used to be conjoined at the hip, and now it’s like you don’t want to be around me.”

“Sofia, it’s not like that at all,” you quietly told her, feeling defeated and cornered.

“Okay, so what is it like?”

The silence between the two of you stretched as you contemplated coming up with another lie. Although, a lie was really your only option because there was no way in hell you could just tell her the truth. As she raised her dark brows at you, you realized that you didn’t have to be completely dishonest…but you didn’t have to be completely honest either.

“I’m just going through some stuff, right now.”

“What kind of stuff?” she pressed after some time, voice softer now. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“No, yeah, I know,” you breathed. “This is just…something really personal, and I haven’t really wanted to be around anyone.”

Sofia looked like she understood, nodding, and you watched her take a deep breath. 

“You could’ve told me that,” she finally said, and you nodded. “I would’ve got it.”

You both chuckled, and she rubbed your arm.

“…but you think you should be alone though?” 

Your gaze found the floor.

“I understand keeping some things to yourself, believe me, but I miss my friend, and… I don’t know,” she waved her hand. “I get the feeling it’s something you’d like to get off of your mind, and that’s going to be kinda hard if you’re isolating yourself, you know?”

She wasn’t wrong.

It absolutely was something you wished you could forget, and keeping to yourself wasn’t going to help with that, but hanging around Sofia wasn’t going to help with it either.

You looked into her eyes again, and she looked so hopeful to have her best friend back. She once told you that she felt like she didn’t have many friends—many real friends anyway—and that she felt like she could really talk to you and be herself around you. Something about growing up a Falcone had made her a target for fake friends after one thing or another—her brother, her money, the influence that came with the name.

Sadly, you’d felt like you’d found a real friend in her too.

“You’re right,” you conceded with a sigh. “I’ve just really wanted to be alone.”

“Yeah, but sometimes what we want isn’t what we need,” she brushed you off, making you laugh. “Besides, I know Alberto won’t say it, but I know he’s missed seeing you around the house.”

You rolled your eyes at the mention of her asshole of a brother, but her next words had you freezing.

“…and my father asks about you.”

There was an awkward silence before you cleared your throat, looking back at the coat in the window.

“He does?”

“Of course he does,” she confirmed, lightly hitting your arm. “He likes you which is saying a lot because he’s never been a huge fan of my choice in friends.”

You grew silent at that, but Sofia didn’t notice, looping her arm through yours and dragging you inside to get the coat. She had moved onto another topic of conversation, pausing to ask the sales associate about the different sizes of the winter piece. She told you how great you looked in it when you tried it on, refusing to take no for an answer when she instructed the other woman to save it at the register.

She couldn’t stop talking about what you were going to do the rest of the day as you carried the huge shopping bag out of the store, but all you could focus on was the knowledge that her father had been asking about you.

“For the millionth time, I told you,” Sofia started. “It’s just us. Alberto’s off with whoever’s time he’s paying for and my father’s out of the city for a few days on business.”

It was what she’d told you a thousand times throughout the night, but you yet again heard a noise that had you spooked. It was never your intention to even come over to the Falcone mansion, Sofia never having an issue hanging out in your tiny apartment, but she’d said the house would be empty and so you’d given in to relaxing at her place instead. Truthfully, you didn’t know why.

Chills had traveled down your spine the moment the car pulled into the familiar driveway, the mansion looming over you both as you stepped out. The large house had always been a little scary and intimidating to you, but it was even more so now. As you’d stared at it, all you could think about was the last time you were here and the way you’d practically tripped over yourself to get out of the house, some excuse on your lips to Sofia as you’d fought the urge to cry.

You were sure you would never step foot into this house again…and yet…

The truth was that you’d grown to love Sofia like a sister—never having any of your own—and the thought of never seeing or talking to her again was enough to break your heart, but you didn’t know how to be friends with her now. It was harder than you thought—being in this house again and in a place that once felt so safe to you was harder than you thought. Instead of the pleasant and warm memories you’d accumulated with Sofia and her family here…

You could only think about the one night that ruined it all.

By the time you went back to your apartment, you saw Alberto once in passing as he was coming home, the young man straightening a bit at the sight of you. He pretended to be oh so bothered by your presence, but like Sofia had said once before, it was easy to see right through him. Her father—as she’d said—was out of town for the duration of your stay, and you’d left the mansion feeling relieved.

It was amazing how quickly you settled back into your friendship with Sofia, riding around Gotham with her and letting her take up your time like she used to. For just the briefest of moments in time, it allowed you to forget, something she turned out to be right about. However, forgetting was just as equally a curse because when you were standing in her kitchen one day when her father wasn’t supposed to be home for another day, no one was more shocked than you to come face to face with the man in question.

“Mm, Dad,” Sofia said, mouth full of food. “I thought you weren’t going to be home til tomorrow night?”

The older man didn’t respond right away, his dark gaze on you, those familiar shades in his hand as his daughter approached him. She was welcoming him home and asking him all kinds of questions about some building and contracts, but his eyes never left you once, and you didn’t know how Sofia didn’t notice. The piece of pizza in your hand was still uneaten as your hand hung in the air, somehow stupidly shocked to see the other man in his own house.

A shiver crawled down your spine as memories that you wished you could forget stirred in your mind.

The smell of alcohol and a breaking glass, a hiss from your lips as you stepped on some with your bare feet, jumbled words falling from your lips as you pressed your hand against a chest that was steadily coming closer. You recalled the pain in your neck as strong fingers pressed into it and rough lips on your skin without any intention of stopping. It forced you to blink back tears, and only when you broke your gaze did the air in the kitchen return to normal.

“You know how unpredictable these things can be, beautiful.”

Sofia laughed at that.

“Besides, it seems like more exciting things are happening here,” he changed the subject, and you stared at the pizza in your hand just as he looked at you.

“It’s just Y/N, dad,” she tried to play it off, but the excitement in her voice at having you back made your heart clench. “I told her you’d been asking about her.”

You looked up just as she smiled at you, and you forced one of your own.

“Well, Y/N’s got a solid head on her shoulders,” he praised. “She’s a good girl, and you need a friend like her.”

Unthinkingly, your eyes met his at that, gut churning, and you quickly looked away. You put your slice down just as he told her about his trip, all of your appetite lost, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. You kept quiet as they filled each other in on their days, uncaring about how uncharacteristically quiet you were. You only looked up again when you heard your name.

“She can sleep over any time,” he said to her. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but you know I like to be polite,” Sofia told him.

All she got in response was a gentle touch to her chin and a smile. 

When she turned to face you, however, Sofia completely missed the subtle change in her father’s expression. You didn’t though, and your heart skipped a beat as the older man pressed his lips together, a look passing through his eyes that you couldn’t and—to be quite honest—didn’t want to name. It made you feel completely naked despite the layers of clothes you had on, and you quickly looked away from him, afraid of what else you might see.

You stood in the foyer of the Falcone mansion, impatiently fidgeting as you waited for Sofia, under the impression she would just be a few minutes. Your decision to never step foot into this place after the unexpected run in with her father had been holding strong, but then halfway to the restaurant she couldn’t find her wallet. You didn’t doubt that she’d indeed left it, but you suspected other motives, recalling how fussy she’d been about her top with ‘that skirt’.

Her father was somewhere in this house, and it was enough to make your skin crawl.

Carmine Falcone could absolutely run Gotham if he so desired. Truthfully, it wouldn’t shock you if he already did run Gotham, hiding behind the scenes like some puppet master. He certainly had the money and he certainly had the gall and he absolutely lacked the fear. You didn’t think there was anything in this world that a guy like Carmine Falcone feared and that lack of fear allowed him to say and do whatever he wanted.

He knew that absolutely nothing would happen to him.

He could rob someone blind and walk away feeling like a king. He could buy off half of the GCPD and barely blink at the money spent to do so. He could have people disappeared who rubbed him the wrong way, and there was once a time where you thought people were exaggerating. You met Sofia and she seemed lovely and her family—Carmine included—seemed equally so, so it all seemed like stories people told to scare themselves.

…but then Carmine Falcone expressed explicit interest in his daughter’s new friend.

…and when her friend didn’t want him back…he hadn’t cared.

Your gaze found the marble floor as you thought about the months you’d spent avoiding Sofia and going without her friendship. It hurt and it was lonely, but you hadn’t known what else to do. Men like Carmine never got what they deserved, you’d come to that conclusion when you’d been standing in front of the police department with bruises on your neck and whatever else between your thighs. You’d looked up at the building with tears in your eyes, knowing exactly how this would go.

You’d chosen to skip the painful middle part and just jump to the end where absolutely nothing would happen. You didn’t have it in your head that you’d never see Sofia again, but you didn’t know how to be around her and pretend as if everything was okay. You’d needed time and a week turned into several and several weeks turned into months of excuses. The truth was that you missed your friend, but how could your friendship possibly survive with this hanging between you?

“Sofia missed you a lot, you know.”

Your entire body went cold at the sound of his voice.

You didn’t dare look up, but you could tell that he was standing in the corner just to your right. You wondered how long he was standing there just watching you, and you swallowed as the silence dragged on. You didn’t move, and he didn’t say anything else for a while, but that didn’t last long.

“What? You’re never going to speak to me again?”

You finally looked at him when you heard him move closer.

“In my own house?”

His haughty tone was not lost on you, and angry tears kissed your eyes.

You glanced at the stairs as he stopped just before you, praying and wishing for Sofia to hurry up. Your attention was forced elsewhere though when Carmine took your chin between his fingers, making you look at him, and you actually flinched at the feeling. His thumb brushed along your skin, and you hated the way he was touching you—the way he was looking at you.

Like a lover.

“You call yourself mad at me?”

He only hummed when you snatched your face away from his hold, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a step back.

“Don’t I have a reason to be?”

The dark-haired man only stared at you from behind those intimidating shades.

“Sofia wasn’t the only one who missed you, you know,” he said after some time.

His words made your face crumble, and you looked away from him. You tripped over your feet when he moved closer, and Carmine reached out to grip your arm, keeping you steady. Your attempt to pull your arm away was unsuccessful, and he chided you.

“Hey,” he firmly said to you in that deep baritone of his. “What did you think you were doing running off like that?”

“Let go of me,” you harshly whispered, looking towards the stairs again. 

“Hurting Sofia like that? Making her worry? Making her cry?”

His words made guilty tears spring forth, and it was unfair really. Why should you feel guilty for wanting to be away from him and this house after what he did? Why did he hurt you but you and Sofia were the ones crying? Hurting?

The sound of her footsteps had him letting you go, and you briefly turned around to wipe your face and gather yourself. You heard him talking to her, and when you turned around, you watched as he gave her some shiny credit card.

“Use this one, beautiful,” he told her. “Get yourselves something nice after lunch. Maybe a lovely dress for my birthday dinner.”

He looked at you as he said that, and your stomach twisted into knots.

Sofia had mentioned it earlier in the week, and you’d yet to come up with some excuse as to why you couldn’t go. One look from Carmine and you knew that he absolutely expected you to be there, and you had the feeling that if you weren’t, he’d find you and make sure you were.

“Mr. Falcone,” you slurred, stepping back. “Sofia, she–.”

“She’s asleep,” he interrupted, taking your glass and setting it aside. “There’s no need to bring her up.”

One of his hands was on your face, thumb intimately grazing the skin, and it made your head spin even more than it already was. Her driver had brought you both back from the party in one piece, and while Sofia had stumbled upstairs in search of her comfortable bed, you’d gone in search of some water. You’d found it, of course.

Along with her father too.

“No, she…she’s my friend,” you told him, nervously shaking your head. “My best friend, actually.”

You barely remembered coming up the stairs, only recalling the conversation the man held with you while he guided you up the steps and down the hall. It had taken you an embarrassingly long time to realize he hadn’t walked you to Sofia’s room…but his.

“…and you’re so good to her,” he told you, his other hand joining in now. “You’re not like her other friends she’s had.”

He cradled your face, and you looked around, trying to think of a way out of this unexpected predicament. 

“You’re smart,” he told you with a nod, as if all of her other friends were bumbling idiots or something. “You and her both are tough and strong. You’ve got a fire in you that quite frankly…reminds me of her mother sometimes.”

You were wholly uncomfortable, and your attempts to get away from him were futile. You bumped against the corner table, and you flinched when your glass fell to the floor, the sound of breaking glass reaching your ears. Your drunken footing had you stepping on the glass, crying out as he backed you into the wall.

“Carmine–!”

Your words were swallowed by his lips, and you weren’t prepared for the vigor behind the kiss. Carmine Falcone moved his lips against yours in a way that signaled he’d been thinking about how to do this for some time. Your hand was against his chest, but it mattered little. The man was hungry, and he moved with the confidence of a man who always got what he wanted.

His lips tasted your jaw and your neck, his hands running over you. His fingers unintentionally tickled you, forcing you to lean into him, and he liked that. He hummed against your skin, and you felt so out of control as he led you towards his plush bed.

“Wait…please, wait…” you begged, pushing against him, but he opted for shutting you up with a kiss.

With your back against his sheets, it was not lost on you that Sofia was just down the hall, in a drunken sleep as her father kissed his way down your body. You felt overheated from both the alcohol and his actions, trying and failing to sit up. You were not prepared for how harshly he shoved you back down. It brought tears to your eyes, but they were of no consequence to him.

Carmine fucked you well into the night.

It mattered little to him who else was under the same roof and just down the corridor. You felt like you were drifting as he curved his hips against yours, hands holding you in place and keeping your legs parted to take his cock. Your nails dug into his skin as he stretched you around him, his facial hair tickling you and making you whimper beneath him. 

Sometimes you had brief moments of clarity where you remembered that you didn’t want this and that you wanted to be anywhere but here, but then he’d slide his cock into your wet folds, and your eyes would roll towards the back of your head. Even in your drunken haze, you knew that you couldn’t be loud, and in those brief moments of lucidity, tears would spill over.

“Carmine…”

He shushed you, kissing your lips and sliding his hand up between your breasts.  

“Be a good girl, hmm.”

When his hand found its way to your neck, you could only reach up to hold onto his wrist, one foot tucked behind his as he thrust into you. Every breath you let out was shaky, and you could feel yourself dripping around him although you had little choice in the matter. He groaned with every dip of his cock into your soaking cunt, and the cold metal of his ring stood out against your skin.

He was hurting you, and you were positive it was making him harder.

His other arm was bent, hand pressed into the pillow above your head as he rutted into you. You felt mentally and physically pulled in every direction, wanting no parts of this but the thought of stopping made you cling to him more. Your body was betraying you in every way, and even in your drunken mental prison, you made the vow to never touch a glass of alcohol again, absolutely hating the lack of control you felt over your own body.

…and as you thought back on that night, you wished you could’ve told yourself that alcohol had nothing to do with it.

Carmine Falcone was a man who didn’t need any extra help getting exactly what he wanted.

Sofia was downstairs with the rest of the family—chatting with Carla the last time you saw her—and Alberto had long given up on trying to keep your attention. The whole family had flown in for Carmine’s birthday. They had dinner and they cut a cake and wine was poured while presents were given out, most of them being just money. 

Carmine had no interest in any of those gifts, it seemed.

“Think about what you’d put my baby through if you disappeared on her again,” he said to you, one hand harshly holding your cheek and the other in between your legs.

Your tears dripped past your ears as he kept you trapped beneath him, wrists snapping with every thrust of his fingers into you. You sank your teeth into your lip as he held your gaze, curling his fingers inside of you and gently massaging your walls.

“You’re not pulling that again. Do you hear me?”

When you didn’t answer him, he made himself comfortable between your legs, and you squeezed your eyes shut at the sound of the excited commotion downstairs. It was muffled, but it was enough to remind you of what was going on just downstairs and it made your predicament seem even more hopeless.

Unlike last time, the alcohol was on Carmine’s breath this time, but nothing about his movements were sloppy. You cried beneath him as he pulled his fingers out of you, his hand reaching for his belt, an eagerness in him to release himself and lose himself inside of you again.

You gasped when he pushed into you with no hesitation, filling you up and he watched as your lips fell open in  silent ‘O’ shape. Your chest arched up into him and your gaze was on the headboard behind you. You watched as it started to shake when he pulled his hips back before sheathing himself inside of you once again.

Carmine was rougher this time, loudly grunting and groaning with every push of his hips. Your dress was pushed up around your waist—something Sofia had put onto his card and that he’d hummed at the moment she took it out of the bag—and your underwear were long ripped and tossed somewhere. 

He was a man starved as he fucked you in some guest room, lips hungrily tasting your skin and fingers harshly pressing into you. His breathing was harsh, and when he started to whisper into your ear, you were reminded of his words from only days ago. 

Sofia wasn’t the only one who missed you.

“I could be so good to you,” he whispered to you. “Sofia tells me you don’t have much. She tells me about your little apartment and your measly job.”

You felt uncomfortable as he talked about her, turning your head away.

“She wishes you’d let her do more for you, but that’s okay.”

Carmine pulled the top of your dress down, taking one of your breasts into his hand.

“…because you’ll let me.”

Your heel dug into the bed, a choked whine escaping your lips against your will.

“I’m going to be so good to you, beautiful.”