#slade is an asshole

[green-eyedfirework]

“Well?” Wilson arched an eyebrow at him.  “I told you to try it out, not stand there like a gaping fish.”

Dick kept his voice controlled and level.  “You’re sitting in the pilot’s seat.”

Wilson’s expression didn’t change, malicious and amused.  “There’s plenty of room for you.”  He spread his legs and something in Dick’s stomach dropped.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about this.  Like he didn’t know what he looked like, or what Slade Wilson’s searing glances and little comments meant.  Like he didn’t know what depravities the Society was capable of.

He had just tried very hard to forget about it.

Wilson’s expression darkened a fraction.  “Do I have to remind you of the consequences of noncompliance?” he asked, utterly calm.  Dick’s fingers tightened in a spasm at the memory of his muscles seizing up in a shockwave of pain for daring to backtalk to Ra’s al Ghul.  Of the holos of his friends with targets on their foreheads, the constant threat of utter annihilation should he step out of line.

Dick walked forward.

Wilson made no motion to get up, only smirking as Dick eyed the space between the controls and his lap.  It would be a tight fit, leaving little to no maneuvering area for Dick at all.

Dick took a controlled breath, his jaw aching from how tightly he was clenching it, and braced a hand on the side of the arm rest to slide in.  Wilson was a solid presence beneath him, taking up the entire space and the arm rests too once Dick had let go to check the dashboard.  He’d spread his legs wide enough that Dick could fit in between, sitting tense and rigid on the older man’s lap.

He waited a stretching second, but Wilson didn’t move.  Dick let out a shaky breath—too shaky, if the asshole’s slight huff of amusement was any indication—and shifted his focus away from the presence bracketed around him and towards the ship.

His new ship.

The Renegade.

The name was fitting.  Dick missed his ship, mourned his ship, would slit Wilson’s throat right here and now if he thought he had a single chance of making it back.  But he couldn’t.  He wasn’t just a hostage, he was forced to work for Wilson and the Society, to be their new star pilot instead.

The Renegade was bigger than the Nightwing, decked out with more weapons and lethal countermeasures.  The sheer amount of explosive power alone was enough to make Dick wince.  The Nightwing had been dangerous.  The Renegade was deadly.

Dick ran through the entire pre-flight checklist and more, familiarizing himself with the ship, taking his time—not only to delay, because he didn’t want to start piloting a new ship, not when it felt so achingly like a betrayal, but also for thoroughness.  Regardless of his other feelings, the Renegade was a weapon, and unless it was an emergency, Dick would not fly a ship unless he knew full well what it was capable of.

He was finally halted by a hand dropped down on his thigh.  It burned through the thin material of his undersuit.  “Enough stalling, little bird,” Wilson murmured into his ear, making goosebumps prickle down his skin.  “I want to see you fly.”

Dick took it as the order it was and started engaging the undocking systems.  The hand on his thigh, a broad palm layered right above his knee, didn’t move.  He forced himself to stop thinking about it and concentrated on taking off.

The Renegade was not as sleek as the Nightwing was—no ship in the world was as maneuverable as his ship, but in Dick’s hands, the bulkier ship still moved with grace.  “The asteroid field,” Wilson directed as Dick led them out of the space station, and Dick set their course to the expanse of broken rocks that stretched across space.

“Show me what you’re capable of, little bird,” Wilson hummed as they shot straight towards the field.  For a brief moment of insanity, Dick considered crashing the ship straight into a rock.

Fingers clenched tight on the yoke, Dick tilted the Renegade to skim through a gap between two asteroids and into the dizzying maze beyond.  It was a difficult task—though not the most difficult he’d ever undertaken—challenging and requiring his full concentration to avoid or blast debris out of his way.  Dick nearly lost control and sent them spinning into a minefield of smaller debris when the warmth on his thigh dragged upward.

“Careful,” came the low voice, breaths huffing against his ear, “don’t lose your nerve now.”  Fingers traced down until they met the seam of his suit, and then began pressing along it.  “Wouldn’t want an accident, do we.”

His heart was pounding in his ears.  Wilson’s hand had moved up half his thigh, fingers firmly pressed between his legs, and when the other hand curled around his waist to feather touches down the side of his ribs, Dick had to strangle a choked gasp.

The Renegade moved through the asteroid field like it was a butterfly, not a warship.  Dick piloted the aircraft half on autopilot, feeling strangely detached from his body.  His body, trapped in the cockpit of a ship that wasn’t his, sitting on the lap of the man holding him prisoner while he practically molested him.

Dick wasn’t there.  Dick was a million parsecs away, back home, with the Titans, with Slade Wilson as nothing more than a wanted poster in their system.  Dick was in the stars, among them, flying free in space, not trapped with a hand gripping the inside of his thigh and moving up and up and up.

Dick was wedged in the seat, wedged between Wilson’s legs, and was all too happy for the excuse to keep his legs firmly shut.  There was barely any space to move, Wilson couldn’t wriggle an inch higher—

Wilson shifted, arm tightening to lift Dick up an inch as he twisted his legs in, and forced Dick to separate his, splaying his legs on either side of Wilson’s and leaving him completely open and vulnerable.

The viewscreen was blurry.  Dick blinked, and didn’t acknowledge the tear that slid down his face.

“Sure you can make something that tight?” Wilson asked as his hand moved unerringly upwards with nothing to stop him.  The Renegade was shooting straight towards a narrow gap in a circle of asteroids.  “You shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew.”

Dick didn’t acknowledge his words, the hand that clamped down and squeezed his inner thigh, fingers pressed against the inner crease, or the way the other hand was drifting up up up.  Fingernails pressed against the hollow of his throat.

The Renegade shot through the gap without scraping a single wing.

“Mm, that was close.”

Fingers wrapped around his throat, firm and hot, and slowly, inexorably, pulled him back.  Dick tried to resist, locked his spine straight for two heartstopping seconds before realizing the futility and letting himself be manhandled back until he was pressed against Wilson, back to front, his head held firmly against Wilson’s shoulder.

“You really are a marvel, little bird.”  Fingers were tracing little patterns against Dick’s thigh.  “A prize.”  The hand around his neck squeezed—not enough to restrict blood flow, just enough to prove the point.

Dick was in Wilson’s hands.  He was a puppet and Wilson would never let him forget it.

The Renegade cleanly exited the asteroid field and Dick brought it to a halt.  The emptiness of space stretched out in front of them, vast and yawning.

“Now that,” was murmured into his ear, “is quite the sight.”

Dick flicked his gaze upwards despite himself.  Wilson wasn’t looking at the stars.  He was looking down, at Dick sprawled out in his lap, unable to stop him from taking whatever it is he wanted.

He grinned, meeting Dick’s gaze and dropping his voice low.  “Stunning,” he breathed out, gaze searing and filthy.

Dick went back to staring at the viewscreen.

“Take us home, little bird,” Wilson said, and Dick didn’t bother to correct him.  Wilson’s base wasn’t his home.  But his home was beyond reach.

[lisholoz]

[madamesmoke]

When Jason gets into trouble that he can't get out of on his own, Nightwing materializes.

And if Dickie is out of reach, one of his morally questionable friends (Harem) arrives.

One time, there's a communication error, and the whole group arrives.

Now, keep in mind that Red Hood is insanely skilled, so his opponent must be something else

Which Asshole makes the opponent the most nervous?

Slade "motherfuckin'" Wilson

John "bloody" Constantine

Midnighter and Apollo

Tiger

And whoever else you wanna add

[anawrites3]

Sea god Slade steals Dick. Bruce stands on the beach yelling at the ocean.

One single wave separates from the rest and comes out to soak him perfectly and leave seaweed in his hair.

This is absolutely perfect kfhskdsjak lemme just-

Bruce was standing a few steps away from Dick when it happened - so close, yet not close enough to be able to do anything and stop his son from being stolen by the sea god. Everything happened so fast. One second they were walking along the shore, chatting and just enjoying each other’s company and the other Dick’s feet dipped into the water and it moved, wrapping around his waist and pulling him into the sea.

He saw the look on Dick’s face when the water started moving, the way his eyes widened in shock more than fear. He looked at Bruce, lips parting to plead for help or maybe just to scream, hand outstretched towards his own. Bruce reached for him without thinking, not knowing what would happen after he caught him - would the lord of the seas take him too, would he drown Bruce for trying to get in the way - but their hands never met. They didn’t even brush, being just a few centimeters apart before Dick got pulled into the ocean.

He had no way of even knowing what happened to his boy; would the sea god simply drown him for his entertainment, would he keep him as his plaything?

There was nothing he could do. Nothing but plead to the god to give him his son back.

“He doesn’t belong with you!” Bruce screamed at the ocean, the hum of waves muffling his words. “Give him back!”

For a moment nothing happened. Everything around seemed to quiet down for a few seconds and Bruce held his breath, awaiting the answer.

One of the waves separated from the rest and came out to soak him completely from head to toes, leaving seaweed in his hair.

From the middle of the ocean, deep deep in the waters, Dick tried not to laugh as he punched his lover in the arm.

[navree]

ok this might just be because i care about MAWS slade wilson far more than like 99.9% of the viewing population but like, he should absolutely care about the fact that waller deliberately let livewire escape, considering that she used her electricity to fry his eye out of his head. that should have an effect on him even if he's her loyalist.

[lulurhythm]

As promised to The People; a few sketches of the Wilson pack from my Platonic ABO story “Psychological Warecare”!!! The trio sketch is VERY much a work in progress; I need to adjust quite a few details, as well as line the entire thing. I’m also thinking of color? Choosing their individual clothing styles was a blast, up to an’ including three different types of combat boots!!! I revel in the small things, like Roy’s bracelets made by his pup (so far off-screen in the story) and Slade’s dog tags. The size differences are also cracking me up. I can’t wait to put more work into that piece.

The second piece happens in a scene unwritten in the same AU where Slade catches Roy struggling with relapse-type thoughts/fears after a string of really tough circumstances. Much aggressive encouragement is quick to follow. (I could also talk all day about the parallels between one mentor finding out about Roy’s demons with resulting anger/rage against Roy an’ another finding out with resulting anger on BEHALF OF Roy, how one is stand-against-you anger while the other is stand-with-you anger, and especially how mortifying yet healing it is at the same time for Roy to GET that reaction from a mentor after his past experiences with trust, a mentor who is a MASTER at manipulating people for evil, no less— but I won’t. Just. Agh. I am so normal about them.)

Speaching summed up the trio’s sketch pretty well from Slade’s POV. “These are my kids and I am NOT happy about it.” That, I think, explains the entire story.

[gayalienwilde]

I can't fully hate Brian because I'd spiral into depression and change my identity too if I fumbled not one but 2 (two) bad bitches + lost my entire career, r.i.p. to that man

[zeroducks-2]

Slade/Barry anon here...I would be really happy to see what you come up with!

My friend, my dude. You have no idea what you have created with this ask.

I was supposed to write a little fun thing just for shiz and giggles, I'm now three chapter into a longfic which involves not only Slade/Barry, but also Eobarry and Sladick and I sure frickin hope I will manage to finish it because I'm loving it to bits.

Here, have a snippet.

(TW: RAPE, smutty smut under the cut, sounding, Barry is not happy about any of this)

The touch on the sensitive wetness of his heat feels overwhelmingly good and he's clamping down on the man’s knot almost immediately, despite the alien feeling of having it stretch him from behind instead of plugging his pussy. 

«I will take it as a yes.» Wilson starts massaging the base of his cocklet, then plays with the tip of the sounding stick and slightly pulls it out before pushing it back in, slowly and carefully enough for Barry to arch on his lap and shake his head. He can feel his sweet spot being teased from there and his pussy is twitching almost as if he was going to come again. 

«Stop, wha-» It happens again and his voice cuts into a throaty whimper. Sweat pearls on his temples and the other nuzzles it away with a low rumble. 

«I told you to relax.» He pulls the sound further out, his own waist slowly rolling to get his knot to slip further in. Barry can feel himself stretch around it at every little inch. «There, breathe. You’re getting to try so many new things tonight.» 

The sound comes back in with a rotating motion and he cries out between gritted teeth, feeling his pussy spasm like with an orgasm, slick gushing out. Wilson is moving the toy more liberally now, prolonging his strange climax, and eventually Barry is shaking and trying to catch his breath, grateful that the sound is being taken out. He glimpses blood running down his forearms where the bindings on his raised arms cut past his skin, the burning sting of raw flesh somehow grounding him. 

«Who's your Alpha?» Wilson asks, calming his breathing as well. He's enjoying himself, that freak.

«You wish.» Barry roughly replies, shaking his head to get sweaty locks off of his eyes.  «Get in the fucking line.»

The man snorts and dips his fingers inside his pussy again, easily fitting three at the same time given how drenched he is at this point. «That’s not what I meant, sunshine.» He says while nosing the side of his head. «I'm asking who claimed you. I can smell it all over you.»

Barry feels his throat closing up even as the man's fingers go over the stretch of his knot, still plugging him from behind. He can't help a noise from coming up but it sounds like his airflow is being constricted, and it also feels like that.

«No one.» He forces out, his body remembering the piercing hot feeling of fangs in his neck, and the helplessness that came with it. He pushes it away, it was long ago. He should have gotten over it already. There is no way anyone can smell it on him anymore. «You're... you're lying.»

[iminaworldofpureimagination]

so i saw Judas Contract and I guess its just my thing to love jerks I love TERRA snarkyness and blunt demeanor I think more so than 2003 /both terras break my heart but JC did have me go welp 2003 terra got a 'happy' ending ... notbeingdead. i dunno what point im making other than.. I love JERKS Men/female . Jerks are fun to watch lol.

[mintaclestentacles]

Digital redraw of Dick being a jealous big brother. Poor little wing is caught between these two trying to out-do each other in pleasing him.

[green-eyedfirework]

Slade rounds his desk and leans against it right next to the omega, whose smile has become rather fixed.  Richard glances at him and quickly cranes his gaze up as Slade settles into position, left leg brushing the omega’s chair.

“The position I’m looking to fill has some extra duties,” Slade says, low and quiet, watching Richard’s fingers twist in his lap.  “I find myself often missing my wife.  Her presence…and her comfort.”

Richard’s expression begins to lose color.

“I don’t wish to marry again,” Slade says.  “But that’s no reason to forsake the pleasures of a marriage bed, is there?”

Richard jumps from his seat, still pale, hands balled into fists.  “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I’m not—”

“Sit back down,” Slade cuts over him.  Richard’s eyes narrow mutinously and Slade adds a low growl.  “I said, sit down.”

Richard sits.  Slowly, cheeks flushed with rage, but still obedient.  Good.

“You know exactly what I’m insinuating,” Slade smiles at him.  “I conducted a very thorough background check on all the candidates.  Running off with a band of outlaws as a teenager?  I’d wager that you’re far from unspoiled.”

Those cheeks look lovely when they’re red.

“This is highly inappropriate—”

“Inappropriate?  Inappropriate would be positioning yourself as a virtuous caretaker with a background of sin.”  Richard’s mouth clamps shut, Slade’s hard-pressed to say if he’s more angry or embarrassed.  “I’m merely requesting you use your other skills in addition to those already mentioned.”

Slade’s looming over him now, one hand casually resting on the arm of the chair as he stares down into those lovely bright blue eyes.  They’re covered with a sheen of frustration and a tremble works its way through Richard’s jaw as Slade watches.

“And if I refuse?”  The omega’s voice is high but his fists are clenched, body coiled in a position that suggests he’s expecting an attack and is ready to retaliate.

Slade backs off, straightening up, stepping out of Richard’s personal space, and walking back to the other side of the desk.  “Then you may leave with the assurance that you will not be getting the position,” Slade says, coldly unconcerned.

Anger blooms hot on the omega’s face.  “And if I make it public that you’re looking for a governess to play at being a whore?” Richard asks, spitting the words out like knives.

Slade looks at him, raising an eyebrow.  “I never said that,” he says, the picture of confusion.  “Omegas.  So prone to overthinking things, so quick to jump to conclusions.  Imagine, misinterpreting a man’s grief for his wife in such an awful way.”

He can’t suppress the smirk at the sheer fury that washes over Richard’s face.

“I’m leaving,” Richard hisses, seething, and pushes himself up and stalks out of the room like he’s trying to stomp through the floor with every step.

“I’ll hold the position open through the weekend,” Slade calls out after him, grinning.

He knows when he’s found his target.  And his aim is never wrong.

[tomtepixiedust]

Huh, kinda have a pretty backlog of these fic cookies, am working through this stuff, guess it's a plate we're serving today. Here we go all comfort, family and murder fluff!

So Batman cookie

Imagine: two assassin kids, well one kid and a teen, meet along the way, both alike in their intention to get the fuck away from the League of Assasins, but really

They can't stand each other. Damian's inferiority complex towards Cass and Cass' lack of patience for the sheer arrogance that brat's projecting.

Despite all that professional assassin co duct requires politeness. As much as two obviously traumatised kids can manage without it sounding at times like very pompous words shoved into a tiny kid and a silent teen who can actually kill you but even then manages to hold an aura of edginess.

Awww these two certainly rub off each other like that.

And still, both work somehow together, to get against the League and not alert Batman (another point in their life that brought them together cause who need more stress from a phantom that may cross their own murder plans).

And along the merry way came Slade.

(now we have an actual adult supervising two kids and fuck now he's starting to miss his own even if dysfunctional family, is this purgatory and where's the actual functional adult oh batman-- shit did you just stab me? ah fuck.)

Remember an asshole is still an asshole so stab anyway.

Signed,

Cass

[87dvhnk]

M

Age-Reversed Sladick

Man this is late lmao. Anyway here's day 3 of @dickgraysonweek: DILF Dick Grayson | Apologizing To Dick | Time Loop

MAWS Slade Wilson conceptually is still so funny to me so he's also thrown in here

[navree]

i lied, anime prince slade wilson is not the craziest version of deathstroke to have ever been created, CHIBI anime prince slade wilson is now the craziest version of deathstroke the literal terminator to have ever been created

[rainbowgothdisaster]

nana: the kids dont do anything they lay in bed all day and stay up all night

*flashback to this morning*

nana, barging in my room at 7am: are you awake?

me, being woken up so suddenly and so violently i was 3 secs away from crying bcuz my dream boyfriend was still real in my brain: wah??? huh???? wha???? wheres...? uhuhuhuhh hhhhh yeaaa...?

[mynameisjag]

This was an easy hit.

Granted the energy guns hurt but he healed fast and pain was barely registered to him anymore.

He was used to the occasional target fighting back, it always made it at least a little interesting, he has too many years under his belt to be taken out by mere civilians. Even as armed as they were.

Masters grudge against a his old collage ‘friend’ wasn’t even a new story, self entitled assholes that found themselves with an abundance of wealth sending a hit out after a perceived wrong was an old tale.

The kid was…interesting…reminded him of a certain other hero…

Ran his mouth a little too much and needed more training…both easily fixed really and Slade…Slade had the experience to help the little hero reach his full potential.

Really, if he thought about it, a vacation of a mission.

Hell, everything he needed to restrain the kid was right in the child’s own home, didn’t even have to buy the equipment or break into anything with the way everything was out in the open.

In fact, he thinks he should be given a good guy point for getting Danny out of that place, it was obviously dangerous to his well being after all.

So, an easy hit, easy pay and a bonus on top.

Respawn won’t mind having a younger brother, not after a few words on how his son was obviously the superior child and that Slade would need his help in aiding Danny’s merge with their family.

If Masters threw a fit about him getting the kid, well, Slade had a few surprises he had lifted from the Fenton’s lab he could show him.