#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.

[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.

[sainzstorms]

why does ppl fancast charles as noah slade when pierre is literally right there?

[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

[anawrites3]

Dick halted before passing the living room entrance, taken aback by the scene he witnessed. When he left - and it's worth noting, only for a minute or two - his father and his fiance sat as far away from each other as sofas and armchairs arrangement allowed it. They weren't exactly engaged in even moderately polite conversation but /at least/ they weren't arguing as well. It wasn't that bad. Now although...

To be completely honest, Dick wasn't sure what happened. They were still sitting in the same places, still not talking, and still not even looking at each other. The atmosphere shifted a little, that was one of the signs that he missed something possibly important. There were more signs, probably way more giving, such as frozen meat Bruce held to the left side of his face, or smeared blood under Slade's nose and his beard that looked like he tried to wipe it quickly.

Of course.

"The fuck?" he asked pointedly looking at Alfred, the picture of elegance and composure, standing straight in the corner of the room.

"Master Bruce and Mister Wilson had a...disagreement" butler explained throwing one of his disapproving looks their way.

Of fucking course.

"It was quickly resolved" to that, Dick noted, Alfred seemed to look a little too self-satisfied "and I proposed something cold to cool gentlemen down. And for the damage, obviously. Mister Wilson refused."

Bruce only murmured something unhappily but Slade was rather stubborn about getting on Alfred's bad side, like refusing his polite act of mercy wasn't enough. "I'll heal in an hour, no need for that sh-"

It's going to be a long evening.

Anon this is BRILLIANT!! Amazing writing too!! Ahhh its so good!!

Bruce and Slade are trying their best to not fight each other but only when Dick is in the same room 😂 They don't even mind Alfred there lmao I love it, I wonder what they were thinking when they started that fight - they had to know that Dick will be back soon 🤣 It's "We'll act like nothing happened, maybe he won't notice" kinda thing 😂💕💕 amazing

I love the idea so much, let me add a bit to that 👀

"I swear to God, you are worse than children." Dick let a sigh escape his lips as he sat down on the sofa, right in the middle of the room. That way he was sitting evenly in between both Bruce and Slade, and they both looked conflicted whether to move closer to him or stay where they are, as far away from the other man as possible.

"He started it." Bruce complained under his breath and Dick sent him a pointed look.

"I really don't care who started, Bruce. And it's not like it matters anyway, you both are way too old to act like this."

Slade crossed his arms over his chest with a mumbled complain and leaned back against the armchair he was sitting on. Dick glanced at the blood still smeared over his face and stood up again with another sigh.

"I can't believe you two, I literally left for three minutes!"

"A lot can happen in that time."

"Yeah, I can see that." Dick remarked, bitter. "Fighting, making a mess of yourselves-"

He reached for a tissue to gently clean up Slade's face. The blood stopped running already thanks to the man's healing factor but his nose still was fractured if not broken from the punch. It would take a while to heal and while Slade got way more serious injuries on daily basis, it still must've hurt like hell.

Dick looked down at the button-down shirt Slade was wearing, at a few drops of blood that got on it and let a small pout enter his face.

"My favorite shirt too..." he lamented quietly.

Bruce looked away. Slade shifted a bit in his place, uncomfortable. Good, they should feel bad about it!

"I can wash it out, it's just some blood." Slade assured him with a half-shrug. His rough fingers found Dick's wrist and squeezed gently. "Or I can buy another one like this."

"I don't want you to buy another stupid shirt, I want you both to stop fighting!"

"Dick-"

"Little bird-"

"No! Shut up, I don't want to hear it!" Dick snapped, taking a step back to glare at both of them. "You're both important to me and I'm so fed up with all your stupid fighting! You are going to start acting like adults and learn how to live around each other without trying to kill each other!"

Bruce ran his hand down his face, suddenly looking tired.

"You know it's not that easy, chum."

"It is! You're my dad and Slade is my fiance, I'm not going to give up on either of you because you don't like each other!"

"It's Deathstroke, Dick! This has nothing to do with disliking, this man killed thousands-"

"I love it when you're calling me your fiance." Slade hummed with an easy smirk as if Bruce didn't speak at all. He sent Bruce a look over Dick's shoulder and enjoyed the way Wayne tensed. "Can't wait until we change it to 'husband' though."

Bruce clenched his jaw with so much force that Dick worried about his teeth. He hated being reminded that Deathstroke would soon become a part of his family and Slade knew it far too well.

"You're not helping, Slade!" Dick hissed.

Slade looked back to him and pressed his lips to Dick's wrist before pulling him onto his laps. Bruce leapt up from his place.

"Not really trying to."

Dick screamed.

[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

[lncarnon]

Sighing out through his nose, part irritated and part relieved that she is finally willing to relent on this nonsense, Slade maintains a fairly neutral expression. This is so far beyond the scope of his normal interactions with people- those being far more violent than what had already happened between them. He knows out there somewhere the ARGUS agents that are almost certainly observing are likely also fairly surprised that he hadn't cut her down right then and there, in a dingy alleyway where her body wouldn't have been found for quite some time. He has far more self control than they give him credit for, but there's no one to blame but himself, after all he'd done.

Raising his brows in the slightest at her motion for an apology, Slade retains his own silence for a few heartbeats longer. Now, this is definitely out of his territory. People didn't say sorry to him, and he rarely if ever gave his own pardon for anything. Dumbstruck for a few moments longer he shakes his head slightly and waves her off. As if what had just happened were nothing more than a mere minor inconvenience and not that she had been planning to kill him.

Forgoing her offered hand, he speaks without a lick of enthusiasm for the fact that he is still standing there instead of making his way home, "You shouldn't make it a habit, either. You're gonna get yourself killed, or worse."

He knows firsthand that there are plenty of things worse than being killed. Horrible people exist in the world and while he's put quite a few of them either in the ground or locked up in a concrete box, so many more are out there that won't ever be known by the general public.

Slade flicks his eye down to her hand, then back to meet her own gaze, before he is stepping forward and aiming to go around. He is tired and fed up with this excitement for the night, and would really rather not tempt fate with something worse happening.

Wrong guy?

As the stranger talked, Melissa's expression was a kaleidoscope of emotions - confusion, outrage and suspicion all flashed in her amber-colored gaze up to the moment where the man she had just jumped in the middle of the street returned the weapons to her. That gesture - more than his words - seemed to convince the barmaid that she really had a case of mistaken identity to blame for her behavior.

Going by what she knew - the actual attacker who had harmed her friend wouldn't have let her go after that. Well, the guy wouldn't even probably be nice while disarming his assailant either, something that Melissa could appreciate even if her body was still temporarily making the street's pavement its current home. Slowly, as she grabbed the right end of her knives, the brunette felt her cheeks heating up and the weight of guilt sinking down to the stomach.

"Fuck," it was all she could utter, accepting the returned weapons and moving very, very slowly once she was released - and getting them back to their original cases and hidden in her clothing was the first thing Melissa did, even before getting to her feet and patting down the clothes to get the dust and dirty off them. Finally, the girl looked at the dark-haired innocent man she had attacked for no reason (apparently there were two guys in the region with eyepatches going to the same bars), and bowed to him in the absence of a better gesture to convey embarrassment.

"I am... So sorry. I thought..." the paused, cheeks burning while Melissa attempted to hide that behind both hands, but it was futile. The entire body language had changed and it was clear that she was mortified, "My friend came here, got in trouble with a man with an eyepatch. I didn't think... I never thought there would be more than one. No wonder you didn't take me up on any of my lousy lines." the barmaid seemed to only now connect the dots, inhaling deeply and eyeing the man again - for once, without the need to ramble and string together apologies.

"Can we, uh, start again? Hi, I'm Melissa," she extended a hand, smiling at him despite the subdued blush on the cheeks, "I don't normally jump innocent men in the streets by means of a first meeting."