#devils crossroad

[nocturne-pisces]

Chum The Waters

Pairing: Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x PlusSize!MafiaDon!Reader

warnings: violence, murder, gore, smut- my warnings are not exhaustive: dead dove, do not eat

a/n: welcome to part one. i've been sitting on this draft for like six months and finally i have dedicated the time to it. thank you to @branded--with--a--j for beta reading.

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It’s visceral.

It always has been.

And Bobby thinks it’s something about that viscera that keeps him coming back for more, thinks it’s something about that sinew and flesh and how easily it rips and tears that makes him crave it like a fucking drug.

The skin on his knuckles is bruised, broken from jagged teeth and protruding bone, but he doesn’t stop. He loves his work, he loves the person he does it for, everything in his life has come up aces and he’s just fucking robbed Vegas.

He grunts as he lands another blow to the man he has chained down. He’s going to kill the guy eventually, but they all talk sooner or later. It’s all about finding that sweet spot of too much pain to stay quiet, right before you get to I give up let me die.

He has to keep them hopeful enough that they’ll survive, that something is still in it for them, keep them delirious enough to believe that he would let them go, so they’ll keep feeding him information that he can give to you.

The man below him grunts as Bobby’s knuckles crunch against his already broken nose.

“C’mon Baizen, you know how to make it stop.” Bobby swings again, Carter’s lip under his fist busting open. His head lolls forward, the flow of blood and saliva falling into his lap.

“I don’t fuckin’ know anything, man,” Carter sobs. He’s lying. Bobby knows he’s lying. Carter knows that Bobby knows he’s lying, but he’s still hanging on to hope that someone is coming for him.

“Your funeral.” Robert fists Carter’s hair, lifting his head so another blow can break his browbone. His goes to rear back and swing again, but stops short when his phone starts ringing a 16-bit version of You Are My Sunshine. He bought it specifically for you.

His thumb smudges blood across the screen as he swipes to answer, bringing it to his ear as Carter spits at his feet. Bobby’s face twists in disgust and he kicks Carter’s chair backward, the thump of his head hitting the concrete floor reverberating off the walls.

“Hey, baby,” he’s breathy from exertion and if you didn’t know for a fact that he was beating information out of another man you might be concerned. Confirmation of his activities coming in the form of Carter’s groan in the background.

“Hi, honey. How’s it going down there?” Your voice is corn syrup through his system, sickly sweet and tree sap slow.

“Pretty boy hasn’t started talkin’ yet, but I still ain’t busted out the tools either.” Carter doesn’t miss Bobby’s arrogance, answering with a choked laugh.

“Fuck you, Pronge,” he calls, blood pooling under his head from his cracked skull.

Bobby sighs, his heavy breath crackling against the receiver.

“He’s just a pusher, sweetheart. Not big enough to rile you up so much. You’ve never let me down and I know you won’t start now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Get what you can and come back to me. And don’t leave a mess!”

The lilt of your laughter echoes through the receiver, his heart skipping a beat or two as the corners of his lips curl skyward. Another soft Yes ma’am uttered before the call ends.

Bobby pockets his phone, the smile falling from his face as he turns back to Carter. He rights the chair he’s tied to and Carter’s head lolls forward, his chin hitting his chest as he fights the spins.

The slide of metal against metal makes Carter look up, his breath coming out in a huff when he sees the curve of the crowbar in Bobby’s hand. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, man.” 

“Not even a little bit. I told you that you knew how to make it stop.” 

Baizen takes shallow breaths in, steels himself for what he knows is coming as Bobby winds himself up like a Yankee’s batter. All Pronge really has to do is swing like he’s going to shatter Carter’s kneecap and the kid breaks. 

“Okay! Okay, okay, I get it. Fuck. Fuck!” Carter knows he’s about to give up his boss, knows he’s about to have to flee the country to be able to keep his ability to walk. Bobby stands there expectantly, twirling the crowbar in his fist.

“A few days ago Rogers got something like four or five trashbags full of fuckin’ body parts. They were all people that worked for him. People that had come through here to make a delivery and never made it back. They have a suspicion that it was Barnes. All the pieces looked like shark feed. So, they’ve called a meeting in Omaha to settle territory lines.”

The corner of Bobby’s mouth tugs up in a smile, the work that he’s had a hand in still unnoticed by mafia Don’s that seem to be unaware of his bosses presence. It was ideal, what you and he wanted, to be invisible until it was too late- and everything seemed to be going just as you’d planned. You were going to be so pleased with him. The thought of your soft smile pointed in his direction makes his cock twitch in his white slacks.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Carter brings Bobby back to the present, where he’s still standing in the dank basement of a meat processing plant interrogating a kid that can’t be any older than 22. He almost feels bad for what he’ll do next, but all is fair in love and war or whatever Shakespeare said.

“It was six bags.” 

“Huh?” Carter’s eyebrows pinch together, the implications of Bobby knowing how many bags of body parts there were taking just a second longer to settle in his brain. “Oh my god, it was-”

“Me, yeah.” Bobby takes lazy steps towards his toolbox, deposits his crowbar before reaching into the second drawer to pull out a sleek black 9mm. He turns and points it directly at Carter’s head, pulling the trigger before the kid can beg for mercy.

His whites are fresh, not a speck of blood to be seen. His hair pulled back into a low ponytail to get his hair out of his face, you always said you didn’t like it when he hid behind his hair. He checks his reflection one more time before he knocks on your office door, your voice answering from the other side and beckoning him in.

Your hand rests in a fluffy head of hair, your personal security sitting cross legged at your feet with his head rested against your thigh. Justin perks up when the office door opens, surveying the person entering for any ill intent. He knows Bobby, has worked with him quite a few times, so it’s not a surprise when he closes his eyes again and rests back against you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you croon, Bobby’s icy exterior melting almost instantly. 

“Hey, boss.” 

“How did it go?” 

Bobby closes the gap between you, makes himself comfortable in the chair in front of your ornate desk. You don’t miss the cologne he put on for this meeting, he always tried so hard to impress you. 

“I have a couple updates for you,” he replies, and you take the opportunity to get Justin’s attention. You hand him your credit card, plant a kiss on his forehead, and tell him to head down to the arcade for a little bit, that you’d text him when you needed him. Justin dismisses himself with a sweet smile only moments later, leaving you alone with Bobby, buzzing to hear the information he pulled out the west coast kid you’d caught.

You stand from your chair, round your desk so you can stand in front of Bobby, close enough to brush the stray hairs from his forehead. He doesn’t understand sometimes how you ended up a Don. How, through all your sunshine and kindness, you came into power over some of the most violent men he’d ever met. The thought of you covered in blood, terrifying and beautiful, stiffens his already aching cock. 

“What do you have for me?” 

Bobby clears his throat, gathering his thoughts through the haze you cause his brain every time you’re this close to him. 

“Rogers got your presents and they think Barnes sent them. They’re planning a meetup in Omaha soon to come to a truce.” 

Your blinding smile thickens that haze, it makes his mouth go dry when you point it at him.

“Oh, that’s perfect, Bobby.” He feels your praise deep in the pit of his stomach, and it’s not hard to see the way he already strains against his pants. “I couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart.” 

You bend at the waist to kiss his cheek, a low moan rumbling in his chest when you make contact. You’ve always loved being in the position of power you were, loved how dangerous men prostrated themselves before your feet for the chance to make you happy. 

Bobby was one of those men. 

Smart, cunning, ruthless, and absolutely stupid for you.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replies, his eyes fixated on your knees, the flush of his cheeks sending a throb straight between your thighs. 

“Do you want me to show you how grateful I am?”

Your voice slips a couple octaves lower, slides a few decibels south, and the dumbstruck look on Bobby’s face as his gaze slips up your curves makes your mouth water.

Your voice slips a couple octaves lower, slides a few decibels south, and the dumbstruck look on Bobby’s face as his gaze slips up your curves makes your mouth water.

“You’ve always wanted a taste, haven’t you?”

You step out of your heels, dropping the four inches they added to your height when your feet land back on plush carpet. The tip of your toe coasts up Bobby’s shin, using his knee to push your ass up onto your desk.

Your skirt is tight, but not so tight that you can’t pull it up over the globes of your ass and spread your legs wide. His eyeline moves from your face to the panel of your panties, already glittering with the arousal he’s caused.

His knees hit the floor, in worship or prayer you’re not sure, and his hushed oh my god doesn’t give you further clue. You rest your weight back on your elbow and prop a leg up, hooking a finger into your underwear so you can pull them to the side.

He looks back up at you for permission, the ring of blue circling his blown pupils magnified in his glasses.

Your fingers slip between your folds, the pornographic sound of your slick making Bobby growl with a growing need that he swears is going to consume him whole.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” you coo, leaning forward to slide his glasses off his face and set them next to you. “Come get it.”

His vision is fuzzed over but he feels like he could locate the center of your heat by smell alone. He lurches forward, pulls your thighs over his shoulders and feasts on your cunt.

His hungry groans vibrate against your clit, the plush of his bottom lip sealing off for a perfect suction.

“Oh, fuck,” you keen, your hands slipping into the hair he brushed just for you. “That’s it, Bobby. Just like that.”

Your praise only spurs him on, makes him flip his palm up under his chin and work two fingers into your already pulsing pussy. He feels as they get sucked in deeper, and he can’t restrain himself any longer.

The hand not buried two knuckles deep makes quick work of his belt, rips the button open on his slacks and tears down the zipper. He reaches into his boxers and tugs himself in time with your clenching.

His fingers hook up into your silk walls and the brush against your g-spot has your hands curling hard against his scalp, bucking your hips against his mouth and chasing your release. “Shit, Bobby. Right there.”

Bobby tries to time his release with yours, tries so hard to stave himself off until he feels you let go against his face, but he can’t. He spills over his hand like a goddamn teenager at a fucking drive in and his faltering movements have you looking down.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

He should be embarrassed, but he swears if he ever gets the chance to feel you from the inside he wouldn’t be so quick. Your smile down at him is still sweet, even though you’re poking fun, and he takes it as a challenge.

You drag in a gasp when he reattaches himself to your clit, his hands finding a renewed vigor in pushing every button he can find. You drop back against your desk, your knuckles cracking under the hold you have at the edge of the wood.

“Oh, shit. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t have to pull away for you to feel his grunted I won’t against your cunt. Your moans climb in pitch and volume and you fist the hair on either side of his head as you’re shoved over the precipice of your orgasm, his tongue laid flat so you can rut against his face.

He greedily drinks up every drop, the surface beneath your ass dry when he finally gives you reprieve. He stows himself away and shuffles your skirt back down to cover you, making sure your dignity remains intact in case anyone barges in.

It takes a few minutes to recover- for your heart rate to settle and your breathing to even out, but when it does you affectionately fit his glasses back on his face and drop a kiss on his slick stained cheek.

“Thank you, Bobby. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome, boss.”

He looks up at you where the tiniest amount of sweat has beaded against your hairline and thinks that you’ve never looked more beautiful.

You slide off your desk, fit your pumps back onto your feet, and settle back in your desk chair. You scoop your phone from the surface and text Justin that he can come back, getting a singular heart emoji in response.

“Would you mind getting in contact with Barber and letting him know that my patience is waning with those permits?”

“Anything for you,” comes Bobby’s reply, in a love sick tone he hopes isn’t too thick.

“You’re such a sweetheart. What would I do without you?”

It’s that sweet summer smile that makes his heart flutter, the one he’d dismember his own mother to see again.

“I imagine you’d get blood all over those pretty hands.” Bobby doesn’t joke often, so it’s always a treat when he does.

“Well, I’m an incredibly lucky lady to have you taking care of it for me.”

#robert pronge x reader #robert pronge #bobby pronge #robert pronge smut #mr freezy #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #devils crossroad #robert pronge x y/n #chris evans smut

[anonwyvern]

Oh I’m the world ender, baby, and I’m coming for you. They put me in the ground, but I’m back from the dead.

-The World Ender by Lord Huron

((Much more fitting caption 🙃))

AWOOOOGA!

Of course, the only logical thing to do after my first commission from @pirate-cashoo was to go ahead and get another one!!! So amazingly talented and really brought my vision to fruition on this OC that’s been gnawing on my brain like a worm on an apple. Thank you so very much!!! 😭🥹😍

#fallout ghoul #fallout #OC: Cross #glowing ghoul #fallout oc #The Eastern Cowboy #The Devil’s Dealer #Middle of the Crossroads #ughhhhh he’s so perfect!!!!!!!

[dave-windett]

#illustration #drawing #cartoon #devil #demon #crossroads #guitar

[3rdeyeblaque]

On May 8th, we also venerate Ancestor Robert Johnson on his 112th birthday 🎉

A renowned ICON of Hoodoo History, Culture, & Folklore, and a Delta Blue's legend, Robert Johnson's storied yet brief success has cemented him at the crossroads of Hoodoo Folklore & American History. He is known for his exceptionally eerie singing & masterful guitar play amid living a hard and fast life; after having struck a deal with the Devil to become one of the greatest Blue's musicians of all time.

According to Hoodoo Folklore, it was a cool October night when Robert Johnson walked alone with his guitar down a dark road in the Mississippi River Delta on a full moon night to the crossroads at Highways 49 & 61 in Clarksdale, Mississippi. As he walks he thinks about his sorrow. He thinks about the jeers & shouts for him to get off stage. In his misery, he cries out into the night. For his weakness, jealousy, fear, & the anguish of failure. But he’s not alone. Here, he meets the Devil. The Devil heard his cry & appeared, offering to fashion him a talent so he could play unlike any other in exchange for his soul. Thus Robert Johnson rose to fame as the King of the Delta Blues.

Robert Johnson was the eleventh child of his mother's children & born out of wedlock. He was born and grew up with his mother in Hazlehurst, Mississippi until he left to stay with his father for a time in Memphis,TN. His childhood is largely a mystery. Those that knew of him, claimed that he took up the diddley bow (a wire attached to nails sticking out of houses), as music was his life long interest.

As a teen, Robert Johnson met fellow Blue's legend Son House and Willie Brown. They became his musical mentors as they played in small towns throughout the Mississippi Delta. Thus began his showmanship & his iconic fusion of singing, guitar-playing, & songwriting. From then on he lived the life he sang about, the life a mysterious traveling musician. Though as the old folks of the era would say,  “The Blues was never meant to be taken seriously or reflectively. It was simply a force, expressing the deepest roots of their lives”. That there are only 3 known photos of him in existence only adds to his mystery.

By 1931 he was a popular name in bars and nightclubs throughout the region. While passing through Jackson, Mississippi in 1936, Robert Johnson caught the eye of a talent scout who'd go on to arranged his first recording session, which went on to selling 5,000 copies throughout the region. This was the very 1st time that  Robert Johnson's singing voice & guitar play was recorded. Despite his short life & career, he became a major influence on Blue's & Rock N Roll in the '60s & '70s. He'd go on to influence the likes of Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, the Allman Brothers, and Eric Clapton. In 1961 Columbia Records released, King of Delta Blues, which was a compilation of his early recordings; spanning just 29 cut between 1936-1938.

In 1938, a music producer at Columbia Records learned about his recordings & sought him out to perform at Carnegie Hall in NYC in front of an all-Black crowd. Unfortunately, Robert Johnson passed away the night before the show was set.

To this day, the cause of his death remains in dispute. Some say he was shot dead by the man of a paramour he'd messed around with. Others say it was a poison that killed him. His death certificate, however, officially states that his cause of death was Syphilis. Still, whether literally or figuratively, there are those who believe that the Devil did in fact collect his due.

At the time of his death, his grave remained unmarked thus no exumation effort could ever conclude with 100% certainty that the uncovered remains are his. Today, what has long-since been presumed to be his remains, is buried in Little Zion Baptist Church's cemetary, in Greenwood, Mississippi. 

"I pray that my redeemer will come and take me from my grave" - Robert Johnson’s final words

We pour libations & give him💐 today as we celebrate him for his legendary contributions to the art, history, and lore of Blue's & Black Culture. May we elevate him in light & healing.

Offering suggestions: listen to/share his music, play Mississippi Delta Blue's , & menthol cigarettes paired with dark liquor

*Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.

#hoodoo #hoodoos #atr #the hoodoo calendar #atrs #Hoodoo History #Hoodoo Folklore #the crossroads #crossroads #devil at the crossroads #juju #Mississippi delta blues #king of delta blues #blues music #black history

[yael-art-den]

(WIP) This is Robbie, the wettest, saddest musician you'll ever seen

#and his pet Blues #he is an infernal warlock that's literally the personification of #country singer met the devil at a crossroad #dnd #oc #dungeons and dragons #bg3 #bg3 oc #I'll add his ingame design once i finish this one! #original character #sketch #own art

[red-archivist]

also i know ascribing smirke's categories to these new cases is unwise bc its definitely not the same system in place but that story was so deliciously slaughter-coded

#always loved the association between music and violence it was a cool motif #also also meeting the devil at the crossroads and him giving you musical talent is peak folkore/tall tales/urban legend love it love it #tmagp spoilers #tmagp

[hungercityhellhound]

#This is unreasonably sexy #This is the Devil's Guitarist #Steve Vai #Crossroads #my gifs

[my-deer-friend]

It's the blorbo's birthday in three days and the perfect combination of reference image + theme + on-fucking-point lyric just struck. There will be art. 😌

#yes this is about #john laurens #and also #the amazing devil #and also also #the sainthood-martyrdom crossroads

[adamshallperish]

this next episode is called crossroad blues so i am praying to GOD it is about a deal with the devil

#blues? #crossroads? #two staples of american 'he made a deal with the devil and that's why he fucks serverely on guitar' legends #spn liveblog #2x08

[reisakumaproducer]

Some enstarries need to appreciate that Rei is a crafty manipulative guy sometimes

#rei sakuma #remember in the main story when he manipulated the rules of dreamfes to help trickstar win #with the battle of the bands (akatsuki v undead) #and crossroad when he outsmarted keito with deadmanz #and even devils when he won against ritsu #rei manipulating the rules of something is so #just so interesting it makes the activity in my brain do sommersaults #enstars

[feeshies]

Guys here’s my music history conspiracy theory…

Robert Johnson…just practiced a lot and was passionate about his music.

#the Devil lore is very appealing to me as a writer because it is very exciting and romantic #and the Devil at the crossroads is a brilliant aesthetic #but there’s always been a ‘did aliens build the pyramids?’ vibe #and people tend to point to how quickly he improved #but that doesn’t feel unreasonable to me #hendrix apparently had a quick improvement rate after his first performance #Tupac started off occasionally filling in with digital underground #legends don’t always start out with a colossal bang #in fact they rarely do

[slavicafire]

how do you deal with parasitic spirits? do you ward?

oh, if you are asking me specifically - personally - then no, I don't.

in my personal practice I love to perform the spiritual equivalent of stripping naked, covering myself lavishly with honey, and going to the forest's edge to heckle the shit out of bears.

and if you're asking in general - what one ought to do - then please reference above and accept my apologies as I'm really really not the right person to ask.

#I dare things to come at me like I'm a drunk frat boy #crossroads exist to ask the devil out

[anonwyvern]

I commissioned the wonderful and amazing @pirate-cashoo to bring my boi Cross to life and he is STUNNING!!!!! Seriously can’t talk enough about how wonderful their art is, LOOK AT HIM!!!

So beautiful! 😭 I’m normal about this I swear so normal-

#fallout #fallout ghoul #OC: Cross #I’m going to put it in a heart shaped locket and stare at it forever #seriously #middle of the crossroads #The Eastern Cowboy #The Devil’s Dealer

[holycatsandrabbits]

On this day (Oct 22) in 1883, the Met Opera debuted its very first production: the opera Faust, in which a man makes a deal with the Devil at a crossroads.

According to legend, you can meet all kinds at the crossroads...the dying, the dead, the dreaming, the demonologists, and yes, the Devil.

Check out my Weird Wednesday blog post for more on the crossroads and writing prompts, such as

Runs like clockwork. When the Devil makes a deal for musical prowess (legends name  Tommy Johnson and Robert Johnson, among others) , where does he get the talent he sells? Maybe it’s the same talent every time, harvested from a soul who’s died and passed to the next hopeful bargainer. What if there was a whole steampunk-style system for transferring talent from one soul to another via jazzed-up (literally) musical instruments?

Ao3 ~ DannyeChase.com ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers ~ Ko-fi ~ Newsletter

Image credit

#Dannye writes #writing inspiration #writing prompts #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writeblogging #writing community #Weird Wednesday blog #blogging #scifi prompt #fantasy prompt #horror prompt #crossroads #faust #the devil

[meredoubt]

I cannot stress enough that playing the Dark Urge as a Bard is the only way to play any video game

The power of music will save him and also, every last one of you, from his homicidal compulsions

#its about the ability to inspire. its about him being the devil at the crossroads presenting himself a choice. #its about making a beautiful and supremely tottured man serenade me as the player with a violin at any moment. #baldur's gate 3 #well. maybe not everyone. a ha. a hah. #dirge of the dark urge

[necrostar]

Shadowed Starlight

@iilahalzili

Bakura'd always been a night owl. One could chalk it up to being made from a renowned thief and a god of darkness and shadows, but there was just something about it that made him feel more welcome. Less people taking up the streets, less eyes to peer and judge, just him, the other lost souls that wander the streets of Domino City at this hour, the moon, and the stars that line the skies. He'd walked out of the main city to get a better look at them; all the light pollution made it nigh impossible to see anything regardless of how high the building was. He'd know; he's illegally climbed many buildings and fences to try and get a better look!

But there was something about tonight that felt... different. There was something telling him that he needed to go, go, go. Turn back and run. Run like the wind. Run like it's his last day on this earth. But nobody ever called him smart or intuitive to his instincts. He wanted a nice stargazing spot and no bitch-ass suspicion is going to ruin that experience for him. He had a nice clearing picked out, a blanket to lay on, some snacks if he got hungry. He's staying here and that's that. To hell with survival instincts.

But, just to be sure that he's likely just over reacting, he reached into his small backpack to produce a flashlight. A soft click broke the silence of the night, with a beam of artificial light destroying the natural lighting he had gone out to get in the first place. Wasn't particularly thrilled about it but, well, if it means getting some solace around here.

"Hello?" Bakura called out, slowly moving his hand to the right to peer into the trees, just to be certain there wasn't anything hiding in there. "Anyone there? Anything at all?" Maybe it was stupid to draw attention to himself like this, but surely it was nothing... wasn't it?

#(( let me know if I need to change anything! )) #iilahalzili #☾ || Meeting at the Crossroads (Closed Starter) #♤ || Dance with the Devil (Threads)