Ask Alastair

nevtelenwriting:

Title: Icarus

Pairing (Characters): Castiel, “The Boss”, Dean, Anna
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2750~
Summary: Castiel is a poor college student clinging hopelessly to the future he thinks he wants for himself. Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, he’s suddenly thrown into the life of a man simply known as The Boss, and his curiosity makes him fall further and further into something he doesn’t fully understand. All he knows is he can’t stop it, and he’s not sure if he wants to.

Castiel prepares himself for the next time the Boss comes. He doesn’t quite get what he planned for.

((Crime!AU where Alastair is a crime boss and Castiel is a college student. Will be eventual Alastiel.))

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural in any way, shape, or form. I do not make profit on the fiction written therein. I just play with the boys.
Warnings: Language, violence, dangerous situations

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thereapernamedbentley:

ask-alastair:

Alastair clenches his jaw at the decrease in temperature and takes a deep breath of annoyance. He hates the cold, he despises the arctic freeze that accompanied the air the further up the soul goes. He liked the deep bowels of Hell where everything bubbled and boiled in the skin from the heat, but apparently the reaper isn’t going to allow that. He sighs sharply and smirks, “That’s cute, Reaper. Really cute. Did I strike a nerve? “

Despite the general aggravation at now being cold, it’s the tell tale sign of the Reaper’s personal involvement. A childish come back to a question he didn’t like. Alastair had a fairly solid inkling of the reaper’s relationship with the Archangel. He likes him, at the very least. More than likely fucked the little bitch, given the emotional ties. How anyone ever lets themselves become attached to sex is beyond the demon. It was of a lesser intelligence, he knows that much.

He narrowed his eyes slightly even as he smiled, “You break my poor little heart, reaper. I’d never bind you so..inhumanely. What kind of man do you take me for.”

Alastair tilts his head ever so slightly as he continues in a soft drawl, “No, I don’t want that. I want…a deal. Here and now. I get a trial run before I make my deal, since I would be giving up god’s greatest warrior of the primates. Let’s see what you’re made of, then I’ll see just how I feel about having a limited time service fee.”

In the partial darkness, Bentley tilts his head, watching the demons twisted features clench and grimace. The reaper just smirks slightly back, “You’re the torturer. I’m sure if you’d struck a nerve, I’d feel it more.” The cold is a comfort for the Reaper, but it won’t last too long down here. This is still Alastairs domain, and even Bentley is well aware of that.

He can see the calculation in the higher level demons white eyes, the narrowing and the way that he moves a clear indication that he’s judging every word out of the reapers mouth.  At the narrowing eyes and smile he raises a brow, “You’re a high level demon, Alastair, as you’re well aware. Wouldn’t be smart to assume what you can or can’t do.” There’s a cold pause, Bentley not at ease being so close to the demon, especially not down here. “And that’s not saying you wouldn’t bind me… it’s saying you wouldn’t bind me like that.”

His eyes narrow at the other, voice cold and tense. “Strange how an apparently whining, begging slut becomes gods greatest warrior when you want something.” He stands slightly straighter and takes a step closer, crossing his arms.

There’s a pause from the dark being, the air going colder. “I’ve no soul to offer nor would I offer something like that for this. So what kind of deal?” There was no intention for Bentley to be bound forever, or stuck serving Alastair ad infinitum, but he was willing to entertain ideas. “Unless you mean literally and you’d like a new frog to cut into…? I’m not sure what you want me to do to ‘show you what I’m made of’.”

The demon simply smirks when finally, the reaper has the balls to take the step forward to him, staring at Alastair with a cool confidence unfounded in unfamiliar territory. Alastair would wipe away the confidence, and the hope, soon enough. “Oh sweetheart, he can be god’s mightiest warrier as well as a whining begging slut. You’d be surprised how far the whores fall from grace down here. And your little celestial’s the cream of the crop. “

Alastair doesn’t cross his arms like the reaper, doesn’t even make any move other than staring the reaper straight in the eyes as he speaks, waiting for the tick, fishing for the breaking point on all the mean talk on his poor little excuse of an angel.

He hums a little to himself, “You’re right, though. Best not to make assumptions down here.” Alastair clicks his tongue and winks once, “Never know who to trust. Good thing I don’t lie. It’s an unseemly habit. Try not to get into it if you know what’s good for you.”

Alastair turns away from the reaper then and walks back to his angelic torture device. “Yes, though, reaper. I’d like to…add you to my… studies. Never had a reaper here before. Don’t really plan to kill you, though. Can’t kill what’s dead, no?” Alastair looked over his shoulder with a cruel grin.

liketheriflewinchester:

ask-alastair:

Under Alastair’s hand he felt the vibration of a groan restricted in Dean’s throat, not quite passing his lips but still there, underneath his fingertips. Alastair tapped his fingers idly over the long column of Dean’s taught throat as he skinned away one side of his face, taking away everything from under his eye down over his cheek bone, to his jaw and bearing the bright red, twitching muscles and nerves underneath. Next he moved up to his forehead, skinning away inch by inch the thin skin over the numerous, pounding blood vessels in that pretty noggin.

Dean tried not to jerk away, he really did. But he couldn’t help it, despite his experience that told him that struggling was mostly futile, and would only make things hurt more, it was an instinctual action that make him flinch away from the incessant skinning of his face.

He bit his tongue till he could taste blood, breathing hard through his nose, which he wasn’t sure if he’d still have by the end of this.

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kristenmadwinchester:

ask-alastair:

 *Alastair resists the urge to roll his eyes and simply points to the back wall again.* Assume your position.

W-with clothes or uh…

*shakes her head at her starting to stutter again, she doesn’t like it and knows Alastair doesn’t but she isn’t able to not stutter at the moment*

Without clothes. It’ll be easier to stick you that way. *Alastair shoves her forward harshly so that she hits the wall.* Tick tock Krissy, I don’t have all day.

nowthatiseroticvalue:

 Eros gave a soft mewl into the covers, shifting his knees as he waited for his master to come back. The action led to him wiggling his arse at the dom he hadm’t yet noticed.

Alastair walked forward while the god mewled, standing at the side and finally, gave a short, low chuckle at the little, tight rump wiggle in the air. So pale, unblemished. Not quite perfect. Alastair didn’t waste a moment after he let the god hear his chuckle before smack the cane down once against his ass hard, a thick wed welt appearing along his skin.

castielofthursday:

ask-alastair:

Alastair watched from the corner of his eye as the angel made himself as small as he could on the far side of the cage. The demon reached out to grip the top of the cage, and gave it a slow spin so that the angel was close to him again. He leaned down and purred, “No need to be so scared. I promise I won’t hurt you more than…I need to.”

Stumbling back away from the bars, Castiel huddled in the center of the cage floor. There was no way he was going to just sit back quietly and let this happen without putting up a fight. He couldn’t win this, but he could make this hard on Alastair. “I would love to see you try it.” He growled out. He was not a butterfly for someone to just capture and play with. He was a warrior. If he was going down it would be fighting.  

The demon just continued staring at the miniscule, frail little body in the middle of the cage with a grin on his face and a dark glaze in his eyes. He picked up the angel blade again and tapped it against the bars. “That’s mighty big talk for such small fry. Don’t think you can goad me into opening that door. Might work on lesser little scoundrels. but not to me. Now. It’s been awhile since I practiced taxidermy topside. It’s…just a little different in Hell where the only stuffing I get is another sack of meat, but… I’m sure the logistics are the same.”

((oh my fucking god this is what a burn feels like? This fucking sucks!))

((ooc: So I may be slightly drunk off of irish creme and still in itchy annoying pain from the burn on my back HOWEVER I has internet where we’re staying! Let’s see if my sunburn and super runny nose doesn’t distract me from getting in character and replying to things :D))

((I’m gonna be gone the next three-four days. And I mean gone gone. I didn’t say anything before because I was sure it wasn’t going to be a problem, but as it turns out I’m staying at a place that has no internet access. Sooo. Yeah. I’ll have my phone (if it stops freaking out on me >:C) but that’s still kinda hard to navigate. So RPs will resume when I get back. *sigh* I want a break in my life.))