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2024-11-16
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The deal

Summary:

you give your ass to me follow by a night of fornications sound fair my little imp ... What if the deals went differently and Blitzo didn't have a say in the matter? Would he have been better off? Or would he have been even worse off? stolas is a real asshole in this one....blitzo give up his ass to keep a roof over his head for his daughter , his company running and to pay his employee.

Work Text:

In the grimy, neon-lit streets of the city, a figure known only as Blitzo navigated the bustling crowd with the grace of a predator. His leather jacket whispered against the fabric of his pants with every step, revealing the hint of a tail beneath. His horns, though small, gleamed under the flickering lights, and his eyes burned with a fiery determination. Despite the chaos, he remained unfazed, his gaze sharp and focused. Blitzo was a demon, a creature of the underworld, but here in the mortal realm, he was just another face trying to survive the grind.

Life had been unforgiving, pushing him to the brink with the weight of his responsibilities. His business, IMP, was on the edge of collapse, and his employees looked to him with hope that dwindled by the day. His daughter, the light of his life, depended on him for everything, from food on the table to the roof over their heads. The stakes were high, and he knew he had to make a deal to keep the lights on. But this wasn't the first time he'd been in a tight spot, and he was ready to make a sacrifice, even if it meant giving up something precious to him—his pride.

He found Stolas lounging in a dimly lit alley, the air thick with the scent of brimstone and cigarette smoke. The demon prince had a smug grin, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched the desperation play out on Blitzo's face. "What's the matter, little imp?" he taunted, stroking the tip of his cane. "Can't keep your company afloat?"

Blitzo clenched his fists, his tail flicking angrily behind him. "I need your help," he forced out, the words bitter in his mouth. "I'll pay the price."

Stolas leaned closer, his breath warm against Blitzo's ear. "Ah, but what if the price is more than you can handle?" he murmured. "What if it's your dignity, your body, and your very soul I require?"

Blitzo's heart sank, but he had little choice. He nodded, resigning himself to the inevitable. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Take what you want."

The alley grew darker as Stolas' power swelled around them, the shadows seeming to coalesce into a physical presence. "Very well," he purred. "Your body for one night, in exchange for your company's salvation."

Blitzo felt a cold sweat break out across his brow, but he steeled himself. He had to do this for his daughter, for his employees. He could survive one night of hell. Stolas' hand slithered around his waist, pulling him closer, and the air grew heavy with an unspoken understanding. The prince of hell leaned in, his lips brushing against Blitzo's neck. "But remember," he whispered, "you gave yourself to me. No regrets."

The night passed in a blur of pain and pleasure, with Stolas taking everything he wanted and then some. Blitzo bit down on a scream, his eyes watering, as he offered up his body to the demon. It was a stark reminder of his own powerlessness, a feeling he hadn't experienced since his early days as a lowly imp in the underworld. Yet, every wince and cry was a price he was willing to pay to keep his world from falling apart.

When dawn broke, Stolas finally released him, leaving him bruised and shaken in the cold, unforgiving light. "I've had my fill," the demon prince said with a sneer, tossing a bag of gold coins at his feet. "Your company is safe—for now. But remember, the price is steep, and I expect my payment in full."

Blitzo stumbled back to IMP, his body aching but his spirit unbroken. As he approached, the dilapidated building looked less like a prison and more like a bastion of hope. He knew that this deal would not be the end of his troubles with Stolas, but for now, he had bought precious time. He stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming weakly, and immediately set to work. The scent of grease and burnt rubber filled the air as he tinkered with the vehicles of the damned, his employees watching him with a newfound respect.

Loona, his loyal receptionist and confidante, noticed the marks on his neck and the haunted look in his eyes. She said nothing, only handed him a steaming cup of coffee with a knowing nod. Blitzo took a sip, the bitter taste reminding him of the bargain he'd made. He couldn't tell anyone—not even her—what he'd done to save their livelihoods. It was a secret that would eat away at him from the inside out.

But as the days turned into weeks, the shadows grew longer. Stolas didn't just take his body that night; he'd planted a seed of fear within him. Every time the phone rang with a potential client, every time the lights flickered, Blitzo's stomach twisted with dread. What if the gold wasn't enough? What if the demon prince decided to take more than what was promised?

One evening, as he was locking up the garage, a cold hand gripped his shoulder. He spun around, his heart racing, to find Stolas leaning against the doorframe, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "I hope you've been taking care of yourself, my dear," he said, his voice a dangerous purr. "Our next appointment is approaching, and I expect my merchandise to be in prime condition."

The imp felt a knot form in his stomach. He had hoped the prince would forget, or perhaps grow bored, but no such luck. "I'll be ready," he replied, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. He couldn't let his fear show. Not here, not in front of his employees who relied on him.

The next night, Stolas arrived with an entourage of lesser demons, their laughter echoing through the quiet streets as they approached the garage. Blitzo knew what was expected of him, and as much as he hated it, he couldn't back down. He walked out to meet them, his head held high despite the ache in his soul.

"You're eager," Stolas said, his eyes scanning Blitzo's body with a possessive gaze. "Or perhaps you enjoy playing the whore for me?"