#luca changretta

[theundercoversquid]

An Unexpected surprise

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Shelby!Reader

Request: hello! love your account and writing <3 any chance of more luca x shelby sis? love that forbidden pairing maybe an unexpected baby thrown in there haha love ya​​

Warnings: Pregnancy

Masterlist

You were so screwed. You were so completely screwed.

Tommy was going to kill you. Or rather, he was going to kill Luca, and then he was going to kill you.

Oh, god, Luca. You were going to have to tell Luca.

Oh, you are so screwed.

Your hands are shaking as you bring them up to your mouth, trying to muffle your sobs.

Once you have gotten it all out of your system, you straighten up. Walking to your mirror, you look at your red-rimmed eyes. Sniffeling, you splash some cold water on your face. Determined to make it look like you hadn't been crying. Not that you were going to succeed.

When you were sure you looked at least vaguely presentable, you went out in search of Luca.

When you find him, he is in his office. Looking important as people scurry about around him. But you ignore him. Heading straight for him.

"Luca," you call out. Trying to control your breathing so you don't break down again. "We need to talk."

As the words slip past your lips, Lucas's gaze snaps up to look at you. Worry fills his eyes and only gets worse when he takes in your shaking frame.

"Vita mia, what's wrong?" Luca asks as he rapidly approaches you. Pulling your shaking frame into him.

"Luca." You blubber as you break down crying again.

"Whats wrong tesoro." Luca murmers. Rubbing your back as you sob into him.

You don't say anything for a moment, trying and failing to get the words out.

"I'm pregnant." You admit, eventually. Your voice muffled. But you can tell he hears the words by the way he freezes for a moment before pulling himself away from you.

"Really?" Luca questions, and you can't guess anything from his tone of voice

"Really." You sniffle, preparing yourself for a painful reaction.

But ineasted Luca bundles you up into him.

"Vita mia thats amazing. I'm going to be a dad!" Luca exclaimed, holding you tight to him. "Oh, that's amazing." He tells you, dropping kisses onto your head.

""Really?" You question, looking up at him.

"of course!" Luca exclaims. "Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"Well, I was just worried. What about my brothers? People don't know about us. Luca, we aren't even married." You tell him.

"You are the mother of my child and the light of my life." Luca assures you. "I'd marry you right hear and right now if you would let me."

Laughing, you bat at his chest, all your worries fading.

Maybe you weren't screwed after all.

[zablife]

When They Leave Bruises

A/N: 🔞 A few quick headcanons. No editing just my unfiltered thoughts.

John

🖤 John can't help his strength, pinning your arms above your head as you play fight in the betting shop after hours.

🖤 His fingers dig into the delicate flesh of your wrists as he kisses you hard, reminding you why you pretend to be slower than him when he gives chase.

🖤 As you half heartedly push back against the crushing weight of his hips, you have to admit his dominance is a turn on.

🖤 You’d let him do anything to you so the press of his fingertips is little to worry over, until you notice the marks next day.

🖤 John rolls your sleeves back to examine your skin the moment he glimpses the first mark and kisses each one softly.

🖤 He promises not to be so rough with you, but you only shake your head in disagreement. “I like it when you’re rough,” you confess and he smirks against your neck.

Tommy

🖤 Tommy loves taking you against his desk, gripping your hips in a vice like grip.

🖤 When he’s in need of stress relief, he’ll pull you toward him knowing you’re the only one who can stop the wheels turning in his overactive mind.

🖤 He often doesn’t realize when he crosses the line from passionate to brutal as he fucks you and it’s in those moments he’s most likely to mark you up. Crescent shaped marks dug into your supple flesh.

🖤 When he catches sight of the bruises marring your skin, he’s wracked with guilt and tries his best to make it up to you.

🖤 Even if you tell him it doesn’t bother you, he’ll shower you with kisses and presents until you’ve assured him many times over that you wanted it just as much as he did.

Arthur

🖤 Arthur isn’t like his brothers, he won’t apologize for his lovemaking, esp if he’s under the influence.

🖤 You belong to him and being insecure, he marks you up to show his ownership.

🖤 He’s been known to leave handprints around your throat when he’s high on snow, choking you for your pleasure and his.

🖤 Tommy is the one to make him stop, threatening to hide you away from him if he doesn’t stop hurting you.

🖤 What Tommy doesn’t understand is your masochistic streak, needing Arthur’s punishments to feel loved.

🖤 When you explain this to your brother-in-law, he leaves you and Arthur to your own, twisted desires.

Luca

🖤 Luca expects obedience from his girl. If you so much as look at another man, his jaw clenches in anger to be revisited upon you later.

🖤 He’d never lay a finger on you in front of others, preferring to teach you a lesson at home.

🖤 His particular brand of punishment isn’t entirely unwelcome tho. He’ll spread your legs with his large hands, coaxing you into a trance like state with his tongue and leaving prints along the inside of your thighs as he holds them open to deliver another shattering orgasm.

🖤 The final mark comes from his possessive bite to your thigh, the sting causing you to whimper.

🖤 He’ll soothe it with his warm mouth and gentle words, telling you how much you mean to him. Then he’ll insist you reciprocate.

🖤 And you’ll echo the sentiment back to him in your blissful stupor.

Alfie

🖤 Alfie might seem fearsome to others, but he’s a gentle giant with you.

🖤 You practically have to beg him to choke you and even then, his hold is disappointingly limp. “You can’t hurt me, Alf,” you assure him, but he’s resolute in his decision. “I could tho, dove,” he answers with tears in his eyes.

🖤 He’s far more open to spanking tho, knowing it’s a safe area for impact. He enjoys watching your ass jiggle as he delivers a firm slap.

🖤 When he begins walking with a cane, you are the one to persuade him to strike you with it.

🖤 Tho hesitant at first, he comes around to it when he hears the lovely little gasps of pleasure from your mouth.

🖤 He’ll insist on rubbing the red marks with ointment to care for you tho.

Michael

🖤 Michael is a sadist and your pain is his pleasure.

🖤 He makes it clear to you when you begin dating that he wants full agency over your body.

🖤 He trains you to crave his brutality until you’re practically begging for his hand against your skin.

🖤 He delights in your corruption as well as the breathtaking sight of purple and blue blossoming over your skin.

🖤 And you wear them proudly, knowing you’re his and his alone.

Bonnie

🖤 Bonnie is a gentle soul who only shows his temper in the ring. His opponents are the ones most likely to receive the brunt of his aggression.

🖤 However, the adrenaline pumping thru his veins after a fight often means he takes certain liberties with you.

🖤 Without realizing, he’ll force you down for a fuck while he’s still feeling that high, his hands and mouth clamping down against you possessively.

🖤 It never occurs to him until later that he’s capable of hurting you and he always chastises himself when he sees the damage he’s done.

🖤 He’ll beg forgiveness for the bruises left across your swan like neck, fingertips tracing the pattern lightly until his forehead drops to your collarbone in shame. But you always stroke his hair and whisper words of comfort to assuage his guilt.

———————-

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

@thomasshelbyswife

@runnning-outof-time

@pacifymebby

@novashelby

@peakyltd

@garrison-girl-08

@rangerelik

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@look-at-the-soul

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@remembering-angels

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@dandelionprints

@darklydeliciousdesires

@moral-terpitude

@shelbywhiterose

@look-at-the-soul

@kittycatcait219

@kmhappybunny240

[novashelby]

"The Shirt"-Luca Changretta x Reader

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader Word Count: 289 Warnings: None Prompt Inspiration Summary: You couldn't possibly be that mad at him...you're wearing his shirt.

Thank you @zablife for playing along. My first Luca fic thanks to you. Hopefully you will enjoy it.

He was looking for that shirt, and there she was, rolling out dough in it in their Italian villa style kitchen. He took the toothpick from his mouth, and pointed to her, “you know, tesoro, you aren’t very good at staying angry…come here.” She continued to ignore him, banging the ball of dough at the counter with increasing aggression. “Ay, ay, ay,” he sighed, rolling his eyes and pushing off the door frame before making his way to her. He could be so…annoying she had thought. “Ah, my sweet honey,” he said in an almost sing-song as his arms wrapped around her waist. He chuckled, “you couldn’t possibly be that mad at me-”

“I don’t know,” she said, jaw tight. “I was kind of imagining your head as I kneaded this bread, but fortunately for you and unfortunately for me, it needs to rest now…get me the olive oil.” With one hand wrapped around her waist, he reached over for it with his longer arm. 

“You can’t hate me that much,” he teased, kissing at her temple. “You are wearing my shirt.”

She lathered some oil on the ball of dough before hanging a cloth over it. Between his tight grasp, she managed to shift herself around to look at him. She playfully tapped his cheek with the oiled hand. “Well, if you’d help with the washing and the hanging, I wouldn’t have to take your clothes-”

“Is this what you are so angry about?” he teased, grabbing her hand and kissing it. The only half amused facial expression confirmed it. “Had I not offered a maid? But you have your control issues…Come here, tesoro, take a break with me upstairs, hm? For you can give me back my shirt, of course.”

[reiwanwan]

Beneath the streetlamp

While walking the streets of London, Y/n Shelby unexpectedly encounters a grief-stricken Luca Changretta. As Luca reveals the pain driving his revenge against the Shelbys, y/n offers him quiet compassion.

content includes: Mentions of angels, slight violence, Y/n is referred to as a woman, Y/n has a complex relationship with Luca.

Y/n walked the dimly lit streets of London, her footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones. The city had a way of feeling both alive and desolate at night, the flickering gas lamps casting long shadows that danced along the walls of the narrow alleyways. She had no particular destination in mind, simply wandering to clear her thoughts, to momentarily escape the constant tension that surrounded the Shelby family.

As she turned a corner, her heart skipped a beat. Standing under the faint glow of a streetlamp was Luca Changretta, his figure unmistakable even from a distance. He was smoking, the ember of his cigarette glowing red in the darkness. Y/n’s first instinct was to turn back, to avoid any confrontation, but she had barely taken a step when she heard his voice.

“Y/n,” Luca called out, his tone almost casual, as if they were old friends meeting by chance.

She froze, cursing her luck. There was no escape now. Reluctantly, she turned to face him, forcing a calm expression as she approached.

“Luca,” she greeted him, her voice steady. She kept her distance, though, her eyes never leaving his.

He smiled at her, a cold, almost predatory smile, but there was something behind it—something darker, more tormented. “Out for a stroll?” he asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Y/n nodded, keeping her answers short. “Yes, just needed some air.”

Luca exhaled the smoke slowly, watching her with those sharp eyes of his. “A dangerous time to be out alone, don’t you think?”

She didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she looked at him directly and asked, “Are you going to kill me now?”

Luca’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. “No, not tonight.”

They stood there in a tense silence, the distant sounds of the city barely reaching them. Y/n waited, sensing that Luca had more to say. She knew that despite his casual demeanor, there was a storm brewing inside him.

He broke the silence first. “Do you know why I’m doing all this, Y/n? Why I came here, why I won’t stop until every Shelby is dead?”

Y/n said nothing, simply watching him. She had heard it all before—revenge, blood for blood. It was the code they all lived by, the cycle of violence that seemed never-ending.

Luca’s expression darkened, and for the first time, Y/n saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Arthur killed my father,” he said, his voice low and filled with anger. “He took him from me. And now I’m going to take everything from him.”

Y/n remained silent, though she felt a pang of sorrow for him. She understood his pain, his desire for vengeance. But she also knew that nothing good would come of it.

Luca’s composure suddenly shattered. His face twisted with emotion as he began to cry, his tears mingling with a bitter smile. He looked like a man unraveling, caught between rage and despair.

Y/n watched quietly, her heart heavy. This was not the Luca Changretta she had expected to see—a cold-blooded killer, yes, but this? This was a man broken by grief, consumed by the need to avenge his father.

Without thinking, Y/n reached out, her hand gently resting on Luca’s tear-streaked cheek. He flinched at her touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he suddenly grabbed her, burying his face against her stomach as he sobbed.

Y/n stood there, looking down at him, her hand still on his face. She didn’t say anything, didn’t try to comfort him with words. She knew that sometimes, words only made things worse.

As Luca cried, he looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, a strange, almost pleading look on his face. “Are you an angel?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Are you an angel sent down by God to make me feel alive?”

Y/n smiled, but it was a sad, pitiful smile. She didn’t know what to say to that—how could she, when the man in front of her was so lost, so desperate for something, anything, to ease his pain?

“Pray,” she told him softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luca nodded, as if in a trance, and he began to pray, his words flowing in Italian. Y/n didn’t understand all of it, but she could hear the anguish in his voice, the way he begged for some kind of solace, some kind of peace.

When he finished, he looked at her with a mix of hope and despair. Y/n knew she should walk away, leave him to his grief and his madness. But something kept her there, rooted to the spot, her hand still holding his face.

“What do you want?” she asked, using the ability she didn’t fully understand herself.

Luca blinked, as if startled by the question. He seemed to think for a moment, his gaze dropping to her lips. “A kiss,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

Y/n hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she should refuse, should walk away before this went any further. But then she saw the look in Luca’s eyes—how broken he was, how much he needed something, anything, to hold on to.

Still holding his face, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. It was a soft, almost chaste kiss, but it lingered, a moment of fleeting connection between two lost souls.

When she pulled back, Luca’s eyes were still closed, as if savoring the moment. Then, slowly, he opened them, and the cold, dangerous Luca Changretta was back.

“Do you still want to kill me?” Y/n asked, her voice quiet.

“Yes,” Luca replied without hesitation, though there was a softness in his tone that hadn’t been there before.

Y/n nodded, letting go of his face. “Then remember that,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness, before turning and walking away, leaving Luca alone with his demons.

[qqqkrolek]

lukaposting

[electronicladyheart]

Luca changretta x reader

Heavenly,

Luca is obsessed with how soft and sweet his pretty wife is, and those lingerie sets she wears aren't helping him.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, age gap, explicit language, sex, slight overstimulation, Riding him, unprotected p in v sex.

The night air in New York was thick with the scent of rain, the kind that clung to the cobblestone streets and made everything feel softer, slower. But inside the grand estate of Luca Changretta, the world was warm, wrapped in the glow of golden candlelight and the quiet hum of a gramophone playing something slow.

You sat by the vanity, brushing through your soft hair, humming gently as you did. The silk of your nightgown brushed against your skin, pooling at your thighs, the lace trim delicate and barely-there. It was a soft pink tonight, with a little bow at the center of your chest, a detail you knew would drive Luca wild.

And he was watching.

Leaning against the doorframe, his dark eyes never left you. He was still in his suit, the tie undone, the first few buttons of his shirt open, exposing the olive skin of his collarbone. He looked tired, but there was something else in his gaze ... something hungry, something that burned slow and deep.

“You know,” he murmured, voice thick with his Italian accent, “it is impossible to come home and not lose my mind when you look like this.”

You turned, your pretty smile making his heart lurch. “Like what?” you asked, innocent, so sweet it made his chest ache.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, like a lion circling its prey. His fingers trailed over the vanity, then up your shoulder, his touch featherlight but possessive.

“Like you were made to torture me,” he whispered, voice low as he leaned down, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

A blush bloomed on your cheeks, heat rising from your chest. “Luca,” you giggled softly, your hands coming to rest against his chest as he towered over you.

“Mia dolce,” he purred, fingers trailing down your arm, his thumb brushing the edge of your nightgown. “You make me crazy, you know that?”

You bit your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. “I only wear what you like,” you admitted shyly, fingers curling into his shirt. “Because I love when you look at me like this.”

His breath hitched, his grip tightening ever so slightly. He tilted your chin up with two fingers, his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. “Then you must love seeing me lose my mind,” he murmured, voice heavy with adoration.

You giggled again, soft and sweet, and Luca felt something in him snap.

He lifted you effortlessly, placing you on his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. His hands roamed over your thighs, feeling the lace of your stockings, the silk of your lingerie beneath your nightgown. He exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing to yours.

“You are too soft for a man like me,” he admitted, his voice raw, his fingers trembling slightly as they held you. “Too sweet. Too perfect.”

You cupped his face, your thumb tracing his sharp cheekbone. “And yet,” you whispered, “I am yours.”

His eyes darkened, his grip tightening as he kissed you, slow and deep, as if he was trying to savor you, to commit the feel of you to memory.

You sighed against his lips, melting into him, letting him hold you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And to Luca Changretta, you were.

His obsession. His weakness. His entire world.

Luca's hands slid reverently down the curve of your back as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours with sensual strokes. He breathed you in, the scent of your perfume mingling with the subtle lavender from your bath. His body hardened beneath you, responding eagerly to your nearness.

"You're killing me," he murmured against your lips, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair while the other maintained its possessive hold on your waist. His mouth moved to your jaw, kissing along the sensitive line before nipping gently at your ear, making you shiver.

"I want to do bad things to you," he growled, the admission sending a thrill down your spine. His voice dripped with desire, heavy with the promise of sinful touches and whispered words. His hands moved to the hem of your nightgown, brushing gently against your legs.

His fingers hooked under the thin fabric, slowly pushing it up, revealing inch by inch of creamy skin. He paused, his knuckles brushing against your thighs, looking up at you through his dark lashes, seeking permission in your eyes. "Lift your arms," he commanded softly.

As you did, the nightgown was pulled off, leaving you in just your soft pink lingerie. The way Luca's eyes raked over you, filled with adoration and hunger, made your heart race. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the soft skin above your chest, then another to your collarbone.

Luca's lips trailed down, every kiss sending sparks across your skin. He reached the swell of your breasts and paused, his breath hot against you. Slowly, reverently, he hooked a finger under the lace of your bra, tugging it down just enough to expose your nipple.

He flicked his tongue over the hard peak, and you gasped, your fingers pressing into his shoulders for support. Luca chuckled lightly, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently, teasingly, as if he was savoring the taste of your skin.

Luca's skilled mouth worked magic on your sensitive breasts, each pull of his lips sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His hands roamed your back, kneading the muscles as he held you close. He lavished attention on one nipple before switching to the other, ensuring neither felt neglected.

"God," you whimpered, your head thrown back, baring your neck. Luca took full advantage, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses there, his hands sliding down to your thighs, squeezing.

"The sounds you make," he whispered against your neck, "drives me fucking crazy." One hand slipped between your legs, cupping you through your panties, causing you to moan louder. "Is this what I do to you?" he asked, applying gentle pressure with his fingers.

Luca's touch was light but deliberate, building a slow burn that had you writhing against him. He watched your face, his eyes dark with desire, reading every micro-expression. "My sweet little wife... you like wearing these cute sets?"

"You know I do," you murmured, finding the courage to look down into his eyes. He grinned, a wicked curve of his lips that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. "we won't be taking these off then, I want you to keep them on while I fuck you."

Luca's filthy words sent a jolt straight to your core, your panties now damp with your arousal. He slid a hand into your hair, gripping it gently but firmly as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you, dominating you utterly.

His other hand slid down your body again, cupping your lace-covered center possessively. He could feel the heat coming from you, the dampness. He pressed two fingers down, right above where you needed friction, making you whimper into his mouth. He swallowed your sounds, deepening the kiss.

His touch was unhurried yet effective, driving you slowly out of your mind. He rubbed you over your panties, gathering the wetness there, making the lace see-through. His fingers found your clit through the lace, rolling the sensitive bud gently. You moaned, breaking the kiss.

"You're so wet already, my love," he murmured, watching your face as he continued to tease you. His fingers moved down, slipping your panties to the side. He slid a finger inside you, then two, pumping slowly. "So fucking tight."

You let out a soft moan, your hips involuntarily rocking against his hand. Luca's eyes never left yours as he fingered you, his thumb circling your clit through the lace. "Do you want to be my good girl, Dolcezza?"

"Yes..." you whisper, barely able to hold back moans as he slowly picks up the pace, hitting that perfect spot inside you while keeping the rhythmic pressure on your clit. "Only good girls get rewarded..." he growls softly, nipping your bottom lip before capturing it in another passionate kiss.

Luca increased the pace, his fingers curling expertly inside you, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. His thumb kept up the relentless pace on your clit, ensuring that every inch of you was being stimulated. And then, he pulled his fingers out, all of a sudden.

"Luca..." you whimper, feeling empty and aching. He chuckled, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties. "Not yet," he murmured, as his eyes took in your flushed cheeks and hard nipples peeking under your bra. "I want you to ride me... I want to watch you fuck yourself over my dick with this lingerie on. can you do that for me baby ?"

You nodded, too turned on to refuse. Luca undid his belt and trousers, freeing his hard cock. He sat back down on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Straddle me, Dolcezza. Take what you need."

You shifted and positioned yourself over him, the lace of your panties brushing against his hard cock. Luca gripped your hips, slowly guiding you as you rubbed yourself against him. He then lifted your hips slightly, helping you to slide your panties to the side. The head of his cock teased your entrance.

"Take me inside you," he demanded softly, his thumb pressing onto your clit as you began to slide down onto him. Inch by slow inch, you took him into your body, holding onto his shoulders for support. Once fully seated, you paused, relishing the feeling of being completely filled by him.

A deep groan escapes his lips as he feels your tightness surround him completely. His hands squeeze your hips harder as he fights the urge to thrust upwards. Instead, he whispers against your neck, "Ride me baby... Fuck yourself on this dick."

You began to move, slowly at first, taking him almost fully out before sliding back down. You found a rhythm, your hips swiveling as you rode him. Your breasts bounced slightly with the movement. Luca caught one breast in his mouth, catching the nipple through the lace making you moan louder.

Luca's tongue swirled around your nipple, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive bud through the lace. His hands guided your hips, encouraging a deeper and faster rhythm. "Fuck, Dolcezza, you look so sexy riding my cock like this," he growled, releasing your breast with a wet pop.

The wet, slick sounds of your combined bodies filled the room, punctuated by your increasingly desperate moans. Luca's cock stretched you perfectly, hitting that special spot inside with every downward thrust. His fingers dug into your hips, surely leaving marks but you couldn't care less, too lost in pleasure.

"That's it, baby," Luca groaned, his teeth grazed against your neck as he sucked and kissed it. "Use my cock. Make yourself come all over it. ruin those panties" His thumb found your clit again, applying steady pressure as you rode him faster.

Your movements became erratic as your orgasm approached. Luca felt your inner muscles clench around his dick, pulling him deeper. You cried out, burying your face in his neck as the waves of pleasure washed over you. Your warm juices coated his shaft, indeed ruining your panties.

Luca groaned loudly as he felt your orgasm hit, your pussy fluttering and gripping his cock like a tight fist. He pistoned his hips upwards, fucking you through your climax and prolonging your pleasure. "That's my good girl,"

"Look at you, taking my cock so beautifully while you come apart..." His voice was husky with desire as he continued to thrust upwards, extending your orgasm. "I'm addicted to this pussy, Dolcezza..."

With a sudden movement, he flipped your positions, laying you down on the bed without slipping out. "I'm not done with you yet."

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up completely to his deep thrusts. He pounded into you, his hips slapping against your thighs. "Luca...Luca..." you whimpered, already feeling another release building within you.

"That's it, call out my name..." Luca grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "I want the entire world to know whose pussy this is." He leaned down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he continued to pummel into you.

"Fuck, baby..." he breathed against your lips, picking up the pace. "You're taking me so perfectly..." He reached between you to rub your swollen clit again, wanting to push you over the edge one more time. "Come on, sweet girl. Give me one more..."

You screamed into his mouth as he hit that spot inside you again and again, his thick length stretching you wide open. He felt your inner walls convulse around him, milking him closer to his own release. "You're so good to me," he growled, his voice muffled against your lips.

Luca groaned as your body clenched around him, his control snapping as he thrust up into you, chasing his own release.

His mouth found yours, swallowing your moans as he buried himself deep, his body shuddering as he came, his release spilling into you.

He held you there, his forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged.

"My obsession," he whispered against your lips. "My weakness. My world."

And God help anyone who tried to take you from him.

[thegarrisonpub]

My little cousin was born blind. As a result, I now donate a considerable sum of money to a charity which gives dogs with eyes to blind Jews. The chairman of the board recommends that those of us who were blessed with the gift of sight, and that we spend, you know, at least half an hour a day with our eyes closed so that we may better understand the...well, the darkness, and um...also to increase our donations and that. What time is it? Twenty-nine minutes past eight. Peaky Blinders | 4x05 The Duel

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Merry Christmas You Filthy Animals - Luca Changretta

"You look way too magnificent in that dress." Luca regards you studiously from his spot on the divan. "Is there such a thing?" You ask. Luca chuckles. "Oh, my sweet, you are not going out like this. Only I am allowed to behold this much beauty." He purrs.

He gestures for you to sit down beside him. "You are mine and mine alone, remember?" He grabs your chin. His thumb runs gently across your lips. You lick at the pad of the digit, looking him in the eye. Luca tuts softly. "Pretty little temptress you are." He murmurs, slipping his thumb into your mouth. You sucks lewdly, moaning for him.

If he 's going to demand you stay in, you will make it worth your while!

"I need you to get the fuck out of that gorgeous dress." Luca murmurs. He fucks your mouth with his thumb. You whine softly for him, doing your best to keep sucking. Luca scoots closer, rucking up your dress so he can slip a hand up your thigh. He grins wolfishly at you. "Open your legs."

"Do you want me to take off my dress or not?" You ask. Luca chuckles, giving your tight a squeeze. "Open your legs." He murmurs. You roll your eyes and oblige. The split in your dress allows you to part your thighs wide. "Good girl." Luca rumbles. He crawls on top of you, cupping your cheek and pulling your face to his for a kiss. You moan into his mouth. Luca swears under his breath and pushes his tongue into your mouth.

Slowly he rucks up your skirt more, up around your waist. He pulls your panties down, too.

"I am going to make you regret wearing that dress." He rasps. "Promises promises." You purr. Luca scoffs and nips harshly at your throat. You moan and run your fingers into his hair. "I won't be gentle." He growls. "I don't want you to be." You reply. "Perfect." Luca rasps.

He rubs his thumb over your clit and you moan loudly for him. "Hmm, those are the sounds I want to hear." Luca smirks against your throat. He sucks a dark hicky on your skin. "M-more.. Luca, please." You arch into him. "My good girl. You are being so good for me." Luca praises. His thumb slips into you. "Oh God." You rock your pelvis into his touch. "Hmm, very good." Luca whispers against your neck. His thumb slowly thrusts in and out. You are reduced to wanton moans. Luca does his best to fiddle open his trousers while still fucking you with his thumb. But it is not really working. "My trousers." He growls. You obey, opening his trousers and digging his cock out. "Good girl." Luca purrs, thrusting into your hand. "Line me up." He orders. "You gotta pull your thumb out first." You cooe. He nips your jaw. "Cheeky woman."

But he pulls his thumb from you all the same, so you can line up his cock. You shudder a little at the loss, your inner walls giving a bit of a throb. Once Luca's glans kisses your wet wanting core, he thrusts forward. You cry out for him, wanton moans welling up from your throat. Luca groans in reply. He sheathes himself all the way. You cry out in utter pleasure. "God! Luca!"

He fucks you without mercy. The sofa groans and scoots a little bit along the luxury hardwooden floor.

"Harder! More!"

You claw at his suit jacket, digging your heel into the flesh of his ass. Luca obliges, pistoning into you with all his might. You squeal with delight. A tearing sound makes Luca stop dead in his thrust. "What was that?" He asks sharply. You run your fingers over the seam of the arm of his jacket. "I .. I ripped it." You whisper. Luca chuckles lowly. "Your passion tore my jacket." He purrs.

He sits on his haunches and shrugs out of the torn jacket. He seems not in the least bit upset. "Now, where were we." He purrs, his thumb flicking on your clit. You moan wantonly.

[khalilxs414]

Tofie

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x You

Summary: It was supposed to be an entertaining evening. Boxing fights, booze and party. It wasn't supposed to be one of the worst days of your life. || Featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 4.5k

TW: angst+++, alteration of canon events, canonical violence, depictions of slaughter and body horror, main character death, Reader's husband dying, suicidal thoughts, graphic murder. Parts in bold are direct quotes from the show. Parts in Italics are direct quotes from preceding chapters. Also, Tommy will take more space in the next chapters.

Notes:

✞ Shorter chapter because it's extremely violent and angsty. Also, I'm super rusty so I tried to write it in a more direct style so it's prolly less poetic and beautiful.

✞ This is chapter 16 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The extraordinary general meeting of the Shelby Ladies Club.

This is what Polly called this unexpected little meeting in the bathroom right in the middle of the rigged fight happening a few rooms away. When you entered the lavatory with Ada complaining about the sparring between Goliath and Bonnie, Aunt Pol was taking a cigarette from the silver case she was holding while Lizzie was fixing her hair.

“I love your messy bun, Heaven.” Lizzie complimented when she saw your reflection in the mirror she was using.

“Thank you Liz. Ada scolded me and decided that it would be a better hairstyle for tonight.”

“You never style your hair except for braids and it’s a fucking shame considering how beautiful and long your white mane is.” The young Shelby sister insisted.

“If you say so,” You snorted, amused, “What are you doing here? Plotting and scheming? Leave these for Thomas.” You smirked, sitting on the edge of a sink with movements as nimble as a cat. Your little cutting remark had the expected effect: the three girls laughed with sincerity, somewhat amused by the beef between you and the family’s boss. They had eventually learned that nothing could ever ease the tension between the two of you, so laughing about the matter was the only thing they could do. A part of you couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t find it that amusing anymore if they knew the unhealthy turn your mutual hatred had taken.

What did you feel when we kissed? A shiver ran down your spine as you heard Tommy’s husky voice, as charming as venomous, whispering in your ear. It might only have been a memory, but you could almost feel his hot whisky breath brushing your skin.

“Heaven has some news.” Polly’s voice resounded in the bathroom, snatching you from your thoughts.

“Me?” You asked, batting your bambi lashes in incomprehension before the understanding of the situation slapped you right in the face.

“Well, tell her. Now! While the men are screaming for blood.”  Polly sneaked a cigarette between her thin, red lips. 

Your blood momentarily froze in your pale veins for this unexpected pregnancy wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. For sure Aunt Pol didn’t mean to do harm, but the surrounding chaos and your last encounter with Luca Changretta seriously eroded your wish to have a baby. The baby who made you so vulnerable during times that were anything but good. Moreover, a quick glance at Lizzie’s sad and anxious eyes had been enough for you to understand that something was weighing on her shoulders. Something you had guessed for a few days. Something she needed to talk about more than you. The corner of your mouth turned up in a half-smile.

“Well, I discovered something about Lizzie but I think she should be the one making the announcement. Shouldn’t you, Lizzie?” You winked, replacing one of your long white strands of hair behind your pierced ear with a naive pout. Glitters of hope and gratefulness suddenly sparkled in the ocean blue of the secretary’s eyes to whom you replied with a discreet nod before grabbing Polly’s cigarette case.

“I’m up the duff. And it’s Tommy’s.”

You took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke by your nostrils as the attention was now on Lizzie. Even though Ada almost choked on her sip of gin, she quickly showed interest in the tall woman’s pregnancy. The only one you didn’t fool was old and cunning Aunt Pol who gave you a brief “okay I get it” glance before turning back to Lizzie.

It’s a girl. Call her Ruby. Ruby Shelby. She’ll be a star in a Hollywood movie.

You watched the scene with a light smile floating upon your plump and glossy lips, satisfied by the outcome of your little trick as well as the surprising unconditional support Lizzie was receiving after years of being seen only through her job as a prostitute. Admittedly, the reason behind the little push you gave to Lizzie Stark was purely selfish, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you kind of liked the woman despite never really interacting with her. She got the attention, and you got peace. It was a win-win situation.

“Congratulations, Lizzie.” You said, your siren-like voice as soft as a lazy ocean.

“She’s a real Shelby lady now. Just like you, Devil.”  Polly’s smirk betrayed her amusement. You rolled your eyes teasingly before proudly showing your left hand and wiggling your small fingers to display the magnificent wedding ring Arthur had gifted you.

“What about you Hev? When are you planning to give us a little Arthur?” Ada suddenly asked, Lizzie's news had visibly rendered her sour mood better.

“I think one Arthur is enough for now, don’t you?” You got up from the sink and carefully smoothed the folds your revealing black dress, “Anyway. Ladies, let’s rejoin our gentlemen.”

“I guess the meeting is over.” Ada added with a little chuckle

Joining deeds to words, Polly gently hooked her arm with yours in a motherly gesture and guided you outside, where the crowd’s roars were echoing.

Laughs and cheers filled the room as Johnny Dog put on a show to get more men to bet on the winner of this fight. Swallowing a mouthful of gin, your seraphic traits turned into a wince at the burning sensation the alcohol left in your throat – that new batch was strong, indeed. The sweet taste that exploded on your tastebuds, when the tip of your rosy tongue licked your juicy lips, made you grin, or maybe it was the all-consuming smell of sweat and blood that lingered in the air. It might come off as surprising for other women, but you enjoyed watching fights. There was something brutal but so real about them. After all, humans were just animals wearing suits. Animals which, according to you, had barely learned to speak instead of growling.

Your lips pinched the cigarette as you took another drag you quickly blew, your eyes following blood spurting from Bonnie’s nose and splattering the ground. Although quieter than Polly, Lizzie, and Ada, who were laughing, screaming, and sometimes nudging you in excitement at each violent blow the Romani boy gave back to his opponent, you had a lot of fun. Until a peculiar but familiar feeling blossomed within.

It started with a chill creeping down your spine and ended up with light tremors shaking your frail silhouette. Instinctively, you raised your piercing gaze and searched for Arthur somewhere among the crowded rows of folded seats. Your usual calm demeanor faltered as you noticed that your husband seemed troubled by something, rapidly glancing from here and there, attempting to read the room for whatever reason. He didn’t even pay attention to you, far too busy observing the men that were around the boxing ring. Eventually, Arthur stood up and left, his steel blue eyes fixed on someone he followed through the depths of the building. Let me do my fucking job! That’s what he barked at Tommy, or at least what you thought you overheard.

You frowned as a strange sensation rippled through your mind – like a distant, haunting whisper of something looming, a threat. Nervously swallowing your saliva, your first reflex was looking at Tommy. You couldn’t place it, but the odd feeling gripped you tightly like an omen you couldn’t shake, warning you of an approaching storm. It seemed like little King Shelby shared your inner agitation though, for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes dived into yours with the same nervousness and incomprehension. Whatever the many reasons behind your hatred, you were definitely on the same wavelength at this very moment. The silent conversation, expressed through brief eyebrows and eye movements, was more or less the following:

-Where is he going?

-I don’t know. It’s prolly the booze and the pills.

-It’s not. I’ll check.

-Don’t fucking do that.

You stood up from your seat with a clenched jaw and, feeling the vibration of this bad omen quaking your soul itself, you nimbly snaked in and out through seats and followed Arthur’s steps. As was the case for your husband a few minutes ago, the dark corridor into which you rushed engulfed your ethereal silhouette like a hungry giant.

“Fuck.” Tommy mumbled, straightening on his seat and leaning forward, “Fuck.” He repeated, torn between his own doubts and his disdain for you. Nevertheless, if there was one thing he had learned since you joined the family was that your gut feelings were never wrong. You proved it several times, starting by foreseeing Charlie’s abduction. The dark-haired gangster sniffed and nervously rubbed his chin, his catlike eyes going back on forth between the corridor and the crowd. A few minutes later, Tommy finally left the fighting pit.

Something was definitely off.

Cautiously walking through the maze of dark hallways dimly lit by a bluish light, you tried to ignore the maddening beat of your heart that was drumming so loud you felt it hammering in your temples. You didn’t really know where you were heading, nor where Arthur went, but the more you moved forward, the more this unbearable feeling of dread and panic invaded you. Your aimless wandering came to an end when the strong and metallic smell of fresh blood and the atrocious sight that followed jumped at your face.

No.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw him – your husband, slumped on the ground, blood soaking through the collar of his shirt as it gushed from the wound across his throat.

No!

Time seemed to slow down, and your heart seemed to stop as you took in the scene: the gun the Italian bastard was holding in his steady hand aimed at Arthur’s head.

Panic crashed over you like a tidal wave, washing away everything but the rage that had piled up within you during all these years. In that moment, something primal and destructive snapped inside of you. In a blur of rage and raw instinct, and with a guttural scream that seemed too inhumane to come from you, you launched yourself at the mafioso, who barely had the time to turn around. Another furious shriek escaped from your quivering lips, similar to the rabid screech of a wounded banshee, and with your fingers curled into claws, your sharp nails slashed across his face.  

“PUTTANA!” The man yelled and gasped, taken aback by your unleashed fury.

The mafioso fired with his gun in a desperate attempt to kill you but the brutal impact between your two bodies threw him off balance and the shot reached the wall instead of your brain. As his spine crashed against the tiled ground, Changretta’s henchman dropped the weapon. You gave it a brutal blow to make it slide away from him.

Another wave of insults followed as he realized that he struggled to overpower you. You were fighting like a cornered animal, wild and relentless. Your claws scratched him again and again, leaving raw and jagged lines of blood all over his face. The mafioso's strength was starting to falter as he realized that you weren’t just fighting to win; you were fighting to kill him, your body moved by the instinct of a bloodthirsty beast that refused to be caged.

"Stop it, you fucking bitch!" A scream of utter pain brutally tore the air as, completely out of your mind, you dug your thumbs into his skull, pushing harder and harder in an attempt to gouge his eyes. The Sicilian man produced a second sound so twisted that it seemed beyond anything a human throat could produce. The more you pushed with your thumbs, the more you felt his eyeball turning into a viscous pulp. The feeling of the moist and warm liquid on your fingers didn’t stop you. Nor the man’s wails of pure agony, with its pitch far too high and too broken.

“Ajùtami! Ajùtami!” He pleaded, his hands felt the ground in panic, searching for anything he could use to push you away from him. Anything to make you stop. Realizing that nothing was around him, not even the thread he used to attack Arthur, he managed to overcome the pain and gather his strength to grab your throat.

With your air squeezed, you wheezed and removed your fingers from his skull to claw his strong hands. “S-Stop!” Panic flooded you as your vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges. The harder you fought, the harder he strangled you. Seriously lacking air, you clawed at his arms, desperate to breathe, but his grip was iron. Now you had to do something and do it quickly if you wanted to have a chance to save Arthur.

Your thoughts raced, frantic, until instinct took over.

I love your messy bun, Hev!

The judas stick – now you had a chance. With one quick movement, you brought your hand to your bun and your fingers fumbled for the sharp metal judas stick that was holding your hair in place. It came in handy. With a choked sound, you drove it upward and sunk the sharp edge of the stick into the man’s side.

One time.

Two times.

Three, four, five, six…

Side, chest, shoulder, face… 

Each impact was vicious and powerful, tearing through the flesh like butter and drilling into organs and bones with the sheer will of maiming your enemy. Hot blood splashed all over you and around, but you didn’t care. The only thing that made you stop stabbing him was when you felt the man’s grip loosen around your throat until his arms dropped on the red-smeared ground in a loud thud.

“Fuck!” You sucked in a sharp breath, your voice hoarse from being choked. However, you quickly got up from the corpse to run to your husband.  “Arthur!” You screamed, rushing to his side, your hands trembling as you knelt beside him – or rather as you dropped to your knees, your legs unable to support your weight anymore. Panic seized you even more violently as you saw Arthur's deep wound and the blood—too much blood.

“No, no, no… not like this,” You whispered, voice cracking. You couldn’t lose him, not here, not now. Never. Your fingers brushed over his chest and, in your deepest desperation, you looked for his pulse. A pulse you found, but which was becoming slower and fainter as seconds flew by. “Arthur! Please!” You started sobbing, tears streaming down your face and mixing with the fresh blood that was painting your skin in a disgusting shade of red. You had to face the truth: Arthur was dying. The damages were too serious and the bleeding too much… But you were a witch. The gift of healing was coursing through your veins. The only problem was that if you tried to save him by using your magic, you’d hurt the baby. After all, that was what happened when you tried to kill Luca Changretta with a heart attack.

The baby.

Your husband or the baby?

Your heart painfully raced in your chest. Your erratic breathing and your sore throat made you feel like you weren’t getting enough air.

 “I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”

You could save him. You had to. Despite this torture of a dilemma and the harshness of the decision, nothing could change your mind, not even the feeling of your heart shattering into millions of shards. Closing your eyes, you placed one hand over his throat, the blood warm under your palm, and the other on his chest. Wasting no time, you channel all your strength – the connection sparked, and the raw, untamed magic you inherited from your mother surged through you. It seemed to work at first, his pulse lightly responding to yours.

But the more the magic surged, the more you felt a terrible pain in your belly. It started as cramps but quickly escalated into suffering so high that you felt like someone was stabbing you. A trembling squeal escaped from your red lips. You were killing it, you knew it. You were killing your own baby.

"Come on, come on," You muttered, pushing harder, forcing your will into his body. "Stay with me, Arthur," You whispered, tears streaking down your face, each sentence cut by muffled cries of the mafioso you had slaughtered and who was still alive— not for too long to be honest. He seemed to say something in Sicilian but you couldn't understand what. And you didn't care. "Just... stay with me." You gritted your teeth, doing your best to put up with the pain.

Click.

You froze.

“You nosey little slut. You should've stayed with the others.” 

Your heart missed a leap at the unknown male voice, carried by a thick Italian accent. The mafioso’s colleague looked at you, gun pointed right to your head.

"Remember me?" He asked with a wicked smile, recalling the moment he had offered you a cigarette a few hours ago. During your brief chit-chat, he told you that his name was Damiano but you didn't make the connection between Changretta and his Italian heritage.

“Don't cry, you're going to meet with your husband again very soon." the imposing man added, a few seconds away from ending your life. However, Damiano didn't know what you were capable of. Even less now that you were driven by pure rage and despair.

“Shut the fuck up!” You suddenly yelled, your claws firmly anchored in your husband to make Damiano understand that no one would snatch him from your arms. Your voice, a seductive melody that could enchant like a siren’s song, suddenly sounded monstrous. Raw and primal, the way you screamed the threat echoed in the entire maze of hallways and made Tommy’s blood freeze in his veins, a few corridors away. “Fucking die!”

Damiano didn't know that he never stood a chance. You sealed that man's demise with one blunt arm movement as if you had wanted to chase a mosquito from your face.  

"Wh-What..."

Damiano, fell on his knees next to his dying friend, and writhed on the floor. With his two hands pressing on his chest, he suddenly started to choke and, right after, threw up a great amount of thick blood. Apart from the vomiting, blood soon seeped from his eyes and ears, bubbling like something inside was boiling them alive.

"P-Please!" He begged but you didn't stop. The man obviously tried to scream but the only sound he could produce was disgusting gurgles.

"Don't worry, you're going to meet your friend pretty soon." You replied with a cold and sardonic tone before closing your fist, the man's lungs responding to your gesture by imploding in his chest. Like his colleague's arms did a few minutes ago, Damiano's whole body crashed against the floor with a thud.

Quickly, you shifted back your attention to your husband and kept giving him all your energy while ignoring the black dots that were dancing in front of your eyes, as well as the awful, unbearable stabbing sensation in your core. You were definitely hurting yourself by using your power that much but you didn't give a fuck. “Arthur, please.” You growled, a feeling of dizziness building up so bad that you didn’t even hear the hurried footsteps that were coming closer, nor the hoarse, familiar voice of your brother-in-law.

"FUCK!" You exclaimed. You were losing Arthur again.

The three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.

The Peaky Blinder's boss took two steps back and brought his calloused hand to his mouth, fighting against the urge to puke – and God knew it took him a lot considering the atrocities he witnessed and did during the war. His turquoise gaze scanned the room, which had turned into a slaughterhouse. A fucking pool of crimson blood. First, he saw the limp and distorted corpse of Damiano, whose eyes were open wide in horror despite him being dead and cold. The terror in his frozen facial expression left no doubt about how awful his last moments must have been: he had suffered, and he had suffered more than a lot. Then, he caught a quick glimpse of the second victim. With his eyeballs reduced to a reddish foul mush, the lacerations on his face, and the abnormal number of stabbing wounds, the mafioso’s body was so maimed that it looked disgustingly grotesque.

Then he saw Arthur.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"

Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and pungent scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.

Tommy reacted immediately and knelt near his brother with a panic so uncontrollable that it swept away every ounce of coldness and self-control he usually displayed. He slapped his brother's cheeks several times in a vain attempt to help him come back to a conscious state but it didn't work. Thomas Shelby's fist hit the floor with frustration as the feeling of powerlessness crept into his heart. He was losing another brother and there was nothing he could do to save him.

But you could.

"Heaven, d'ya hear me?"

You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses saturated with one unique sound: a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.

“Oi! Listen to me!” Tommy’s powerful voice suddenly snatched you from your daze just enough time to catch your attention and plunge his turquoise iris into your Arctic eyes.

“I—I can’t. I can’t, I can’t...” You repeated in a whisper, just like a broken record, because your husband’s pulse was weakening again, blind to your exhausting and painful efforts. Arthur was dying, your baby was dying and the intensity of the pain you went through was so insufferable that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wait for death to make this nightmare stop.

Tommy rapidly shifted his body to be by your side, his sharp eyes focused, but softer than usual. “You’ve got this,” he whispered, meeting your panicked gaze. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” He pressed his hand firmly over yours, steadying the trembling fingers that worked to save his brother. His voice was low, gravelly, but laced with a quiet strength he tried to share with you. His grip was warm, grounding you in the chaos, his presence like an anchor. At that moment, the weight of the world felt momentarily lighter with him by your side. You replied to his help with a muffled sob.

"You've got this!" Tommy tried to keep you from falling apart but the sight of a thin trickle of blood slowly running down your nose worried him almost to death. He looked at you and he knew. He knew that you had given everything – every ounce of your energy to save his brother, your magic now drained. Your hand trembled, still pressed to Arthur’s chest, but the world around you was seriously fading to black.

Caught amid this Hell with Tommy by your side, you didn't hear nor feel Polly, who had found the crime scene.

"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him,

"We're fucking losing her too!" Tommy exclaimed, "fucking help me!"

"Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream one last time. A haunting and otherworldly wail that pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.

The smell of blood hid Tommy's musky perfume that was tingling your nostrils. The deafening ringing in your ears covered Polly and her nephew's voice. Your breaths came shallow and weak, your body becoming heavier as darkness crept in. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut. In one final movement, you collapsed beside your husband, your last thought a silent hope that he would live.

Or that you would at least die trying to save him.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature

[warnersister]

“Ultimatum” Luca Changretta x Reader

Luca Changretta x reader, Thomas Shelby x sister!reader

Tommy has a choice. Your life or many.

“So, what will it be… hmm, Shelby?” Changretta asked, arm wrapped tightly but not constricting around your neck as your brother refused to meet your eyes. You were swaying slightly as a large gust of wind blow you, its cruel breath frosty and sharp.

You were stood atop a building, a tall building. It’s lankiness had never intimidated you nor even crossed your mind until that moment but now you had decided that heights weren’t for you. You were stood with several members of the Mafia, reason being your brother’s stupid Vendetta. They’d taken you in the dead of night - tied you loosely with rough ropes and blindfolded you with Luca Changretta’s own tie.

They’d woken you at dawn and Luca spoon fed you a meal, explain where you were and why and what could happen that day. And that he wouldn’t kill you but your brother could.

You were situated parallel to your brother, who was stood watching the situation unravel before him - the Italians threatening to drop you off the side of his very own building as an ultimatum for this Vendetta. The Birmingham council members were stood looking up at the bottom, pistols pointed to each of the politicians temples.

“Your sister or your precious council?” Time seemed to stop, Luca leant you back slightly so your tiptoes were barely on the ledge, desperately clawing at his forearm to stay on the side of the living. ‘Please’ you mouthed to your brother, eyes teary and vision blurry. His expression turned from remorseful back to that cold; expressionless, merciless Thomas Shelby you were so familiar with.

“I’m sorry yn” he said, but you knew he wasn’t. He spun on a pivot and left you for dead. All to protect his reputation as a politician. You screamed out, awaiting your demise and to be dropped to a sudden and messy death.

But suddenly you were pulled back from the edge and onto the safety of the rooftop, Luca spinning you into his chest and shaking his head, studying your terrified face. “I would’ve saved you.” He whispered.

[tragicsiblings]

Adrien Brody as Luca Changretta

Peaky Blinder S4

[zablife]

*Skids to a halt after crashing through inbox door* DID SOMEBODY SAY SLEEPOVER? I am here, bestie!

Can I please request something spicy for my Italian husband? I will let you have creative choice over scenario. I’m craving some Luca smut in whatever form! 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Tysm for your request, Claire! I had so many ideas I wanted to share, but settled on this naughty encounter about the first time Luca makes you squirt. I would apologize for my filthy imagination, but I'm not sorry in the slightest 😂 I hope you enjoy!

18+ MDNI

Let Me Spoil You

"Luca, I'm not sure I can," you whimpered, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you studied him nervously. "I've never done this before."

"Then it's a good thing I have," he teased, sucking at the ticklish spot near your hipbone as your breathy moans filled the air. Pulling away to tongue the blossoming bruise, a mischievous smile spread across his lips as he returned his attention to your sticky inner thighs, peppering them with delicate kisses.

"Let me spoil you, principessa," he begged as though he hadn't already spent the entire evening lavishing you with attention.

You gulped and nodded slowly, opening your legs wider to welcome his touch. With a hitch of breath, you felt his long fingers slide against your dewy folds once more and into the tight clutch of your cunt.

Green eyes sparkling with nefarious delight, he wasted no time seeking the soft, spongy spot inside you that turned your legs to jelly. As he added firm pressure and lapped gently at your clit, the warmth in your belly returned with rapid speed.

Soft pants turned to whimpers as your hand fumbled in Luca's dark curls, grasping a bit too tightly as your brow furrowed at the odd tingling sensation. He drank in your adorable look of confusion, smirking at the memory of the times before when you'd stopped him, insisting you'd wet yourself if he continued. As he predicted you began to whine in a familiar high pitched wail that made his cock ache. "It's too much, Luca! I'm gonna...gonna..."

"Shhh, angel, you're doing so well for me," he cooed without giving you reprieve. Crooking his fingers against your sensitive walls in such a way that had you clamping down, hips bucking against him. He held you against the mattress with his muscular forearm, watching your face and neck begin to flush with the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, taunting, “You want it, don't you?"

A sizzle of electricity charged down your spine as he pumped his fingers within you, forcing shuddered breaths from your trembling body. Knowing you were staving off the inevitable, Luca added another finger, betting you wouldn't be able to fight the exquisite feeling of fullness. As your back arched against him, he praised, "You look so fuckin' beautiful like this." Then in that deep, commanding voice you couldn't ignore, "Cum for me, gorgeous."

Before you knew what was happening, a wave of pleasure crashed over you, black spots dancing across your vision as your legs shook. Luca moaned appreciatively as the first gush of fluid drenched his wrist, opposite hand pressing down on your abdomen to coax another squirt from your pulsing cunt. As your head dropped to your shoulder in exhaustion, Luca watched a little puddle collect with a swell of pride.

Focused on the pleasant little aftershocks rippling through your spent body, you were only vaguely aware of him withdrawing his fingers from you. The lewd squelching sound was soon replaced with the satisfied grunt of a man tasting his victory and you began to giggle. You'd never met a man who enjoyed giving pleasure so much as Luca Changretta.

He took such good care of you as evidenced by the gentle way he woke you after you'd drifted off to sleep, insistent on bathing you and changing the sheets before bedtime. Carrying you toward the bathroom for a hot soak in the tub, he nuzzled your check and whispered soft words of praise. “I knew you could do it, angel.”

Zablife Sleepover

-----------------------

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[novashelby]

"Attitude"-Luca Changretta x Reader

Pairing: Luca Changretta Word Count: 163 Warnings: mention of smut, language. Overall, I think SFW. Prompt Inspiration Summary: His wife is a little cranky with an attitude. Thank you anon for submitting this. Let me know what you think!

“Where did this attitude come from, hm?” he asked. “I mean, it’s endearing, but please, love. Now?” Luca sighed, motioning to the beautiful spread of food before them. It’d been their third anniversary. Three whole years married. Neither of them could understand how time went so fast. Though, surely, the honeymoon stage was lingering on a thin thread. 

“I’m not upset,” she said, pursing her lips as she popped an olive in her mouth. Her eyes kept her glance, and he found it amusing, hopping to the seat closer to her. “What?” she asked as he took her hand, kissing it. His lips travelled up her bare arms until it reached her jar.

“Your attitude-”

“What about it?” she challenged with a grin.

His hand found its way to her, gripping it. “Change it-”

“And if I don’t, honey?” she asked, almost sarcastically.

Luca laughed, kissing her jaw up to her ear. “Then I will fuck it out of you over this table.”

[reiwanwan]

Whispers of the Tide

On a peaceful shoreline, Y/n Shelby awaits her executioner, Luca Changretta.

This is part 2 of Beneath the Streetlamp

content includes: Mentions of guns, blood, mentions of killing

The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the water as the waves lapped gently against the shore. Y/N stood at the water's edge, her feet bare, toes sinking into the wet sand. The sea had always been a place of peace for her, a place where she could let her mind drift away from the chaos of life. It reminded her of simpler times—playing with her siblings along the shoreline, laughing, running, and forgetting, if only for a moment, the troubles that always seemed to chase them.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed the footsteps approaching from behind. But she wasn’t surprised either. Luca Changretta was the type of man who always found his way to her. It had become almost routine, this quiet dance they shared, knowing what was coming but never acknowledging it outright.

"Always finding me, aren’t you?" she said, her voice calm, as if greeting an old friend rather than a deadly enemy.

Luca smirked as he stepped closer, his hands in his pockets. "I’ve got a knack for it," he replied smoothly, his eyes studying her. There was something about her calmness that always unnerved him.

"How’d you find me this time?" she asked, a faint smile playing on her lips as she turned slightly to face him.

He shrugged, glancing out at the sea. "I’m always finding you, Y/N," he said softly, a strange note of affection in his tone. They stood there in silence for a moment, watching the waves, two people who should have been enemies but seemed more like two weary souls sharing a quiet moment of understanding.

"Do you like the sea?" he asked after a while, breaking the silence.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving the horizon. "I do," she replied. "It makes me forget about everything. Just for a little while, it’s like none of it matters."

Luca stared at her, and for a brief moment, he saw a glimpse of something—something he wasn’t sure he had ever seen in her before. Peace, maybe. Or acceptance. He wasn’t sure.

Y/N’s next words cut through the air like a knife, casual but heavy with meaning. "So," she said softly, "is today the day?"

Luca’s heart skipped a beat. He looked at her, the faintest hint of regret flickering in his eyes. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "Today’s the day."

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t try to run or fight. She just nodded, as if she had been expecting it all along. "I didn’t bring anything to protect myself," she said lightly, almost like it was a joke, but there was no humor in her voice. "Maybe it’s just my time."

Luca’s grip on the gun tightened, though it remained at his side for now. "I prayed for you once, you know," he said, his voice low.

Y/N’s lips curled into a faint smile. "I remember. I told you to pray." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Thank you for that."

He let out a short laugh, though it held no real amusement. "What are you going to do? Will you tell my father I’m a good boy?" He tried making one last attempt at a joke.

Y/N turned to him fully, her expression soft. "Maybe I will."

"Don’t," Luca said quickly, shaking his head. "That’d be lying. And anyway, he’s probably watching over me right now, seeing everything I’m about to do" He said pointing to the sky.

Silence hung between them again, heavy and suffocating. Luca knew what he had to do, and Y/N…well, she was ready. Or at least she acted like she was. He didn’t know why she wasn’t fighting back, why she wasn’t begging for her life like everyone else had. Maybe she was just as tired of all this bullshit as he was.

The time had come. Luca raised the gun, pointing it at her head. Y/N met his gaze, her eyes unblinking, calm, and full of acceptance. She didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle. And in that moment, Luca realized she wasn’t afraid. She had resigned herself to this fate long ago.

He pulled the trigger.

The sound echoed along the shoreline, the seagulls flying off in startled flocks. Y/N fell, her body crumpling to the ground like a rag doll. Luca stood there for a moment, staring down at her. He felt something, but he wasn’t sure if it was regret or relieved. Maybe a bit of both.

After a moment, he knelt down and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. She was gone, her eyes closed peacefully, as if she had simply fallen asleep. He carried her to the nearby hospital, placing her gently on the steps, making sure her body was arranged in a way that looked respectful. Then, without a word, he took off his coat and draped it over her, covering her completely.

It was only when he walked away that he allowed himself to feel anything. He lit a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he smoked. He didn’t feel bad exactly. He had to do it. He wanted to do it. It was part of the plan, part of the life they both lived. But there was something about her—about Y/N—that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, she had been as lost as he was.

He stared at the sea for a long time, thinking of her, of the calmness in her eyes, the acceptance in her voice. He exhaled a long breath, letting the smoke drift away with the wind.

"Maybe she was just as broken as me," he muttered to himself, flicking the cigarette into the sand before turning and walking away from the sea, leaving behind the only person who had ever truly understood him.

[jonathancraneswife]

Tommy and Luca are reunited at the oscars 2025