#prompt trick/treat

[admiralsweko]

Rhyiona Week 2023 Day Two

Prompt: Trick/Treat

Spaces In Between

“You want to kiss me so badly it makes you look stupid,” Fiona taunted the company man. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked an eyebrow as she gave Rhys an arrogant smirk. Despite her outward appearance of imperious confidence, uncertainty roiled beneath the surface. 

Why did I just say that?

She had to admit it wasn’t her most witty rejoinder. But now that it was out in the air between them, there was no turning back.

“What?” he scoffed. “That’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. But coming from you, I’d expect nothing less.” With a disparaging wave of his hand, he turned away and continued down the hall.

“Hey,” she snapped, irritation flaring at his abrupt dismissal. 

Usually, there was something so satisfying about their verbal sparring matches. Most of the time she had no trouble talking circles around this corporate dork. This time, however, she was admittedly off her game. 

I’m just tired. That’s it. 

They had been going nonstop since they’d opened the vault and she could probably benefit greatly from a nap. Fortified in that contrivance, she’d almost persuaded herself that her comment had, in no way, been influenced by her recent revelations as to the depth of her feelings for this goofy stringbean of a man. 

Running to catch up to his impossibly long stride, she rounded his shoulder. He halted as she stood defiantly in front of him. Stubborn to a fault, she poked him in the chest and doubled down on her ridiculous accusation. 

“It’s true. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” 

“And how is that?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Like I’m trying to test out the saying ‘If looks could kill’? Because if that’s what you’re referring to, then you might actually be right for a change.”

Despite his words, Fiona caught the subtle pink hue to his cheeks. Rallied by the possibility that she might be onto something, she ignored him and continued, “I always thought it was Sasha that I should be worried about but I was wrong. It was me you were interested in, wasn’t it?” 

Enjoying the look of shock that flashed over his expression, she was gratified to learn she had touched a nerve. Before he could deny it, she hurried on. “You may not want to admit it, Rhys, but I can see it written all over your face.” 

His eyes narrowed as his mouth fell into a pout. Attraction zipped through her at that stupid little pull of his lips. 

“I bet you think about me all the time. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you —” Her barbs were cut short as he rolled his eyes and tried to move around her once more. Instinctively, she snagged his elbow as he passed. “I’m not done with you,” she blurted, even though she knew she should just let him go. 

“Enough,” he growled, his voice ripe with aggravation. Swiftly, he stepped into her space. She was forced to retreat back in order to look him in the eye. The expression on his face shifted, becoming predatory, as he realized he had her on the defense. He took another step. 

Withdrawing further, her back hit the wall of the corridor. Before she could twist away, his right hand met the wall beside her head with a click of metal on metal, his left quick to follow on the opposite side. He had effectively trapped her, crowding into her space without touching her. 

A strange awakening occurred within her at his proximity; her pulse kicking up. She frowned as she tried to stamp down the budding arousal that unfurled in the pit of her stomach. 

Curiously, he was quiet as he searched her face. His gaze was hypnotic; the captivating contrast of his mismatched eyes pinning her in place.

“What is it you want from me, Fiona?” he finally asked. “Do you want me to tell you it’s true?”

She blinked in shock, shaken by the question. Her heart skipped a beat as her mind raced to catch up. Wholly unprepared for this turn in events, she remained silent. 

“Do you want me to tell you that I think about you?” he continued, “That you’re constantly on my mind?” 

The words rang in her ears. To every question he posed, her heart answered with a wordless aching yes. 

To her chagrin, she realized she was blushing, her cheeks prickling with heat. His expression softened as he gazed at her. With a tender brush of his thumb, he caressed the apple of her cheek, tracing the rosy flush. The chill of his touch against her overheated skin caused her breath to catch.

“Do you want me to tell you that when I think about you, I sometimes imagine you like this?” 

His voice rasped against her frayed nerves, desire making her sensitive to the subtle gravel in his tone. 

Agitated by her reaction, she fought to regain some semblance of control from the storm that raged within her. No matter the truth, no matter the accuracy of his queries, she remained mistrustful. She was terrified he was just goading her on in some attempt to entrap her.

He’s got to be up to something. It’s a trick… Right?

Composing herself outwardly, she raised a brow. “Like what,” she quipped, “Quiet?” 

He smiled and another stone in her defense crumbled. “Something like that,” he answered softly.

She opened her mouth to speak but he stopped her with a finger to her lips before she could utter a word. 

“Ah, ah,” he admonished gently, that devastating smile spreading wider across his stupidly handsome face. “You know what your problem is, Fiona?” As his finger was still held to her lips, her only response was to narrow her eyes at him. “You just don’t know when to stop talking.”

Her snarky comeback died unspoken as he took that same forbidding finger and ran it gently over the sensitive surface of her lower lip. Blood thundered in her ears as her pulse slammed into high gear. Tracking down over her chin, the tips of his fingers trailed the length of her neck.

The last vestiges of her defiance evaporated, whisked away in wake of his exploration. Mesmerized, she watched him as his attention followed his movements. Skimming over the clasp at the hollow of her throat, he took his time tracing along the edge of the opening in her blouse. His touch scorched across the delicate skin of her chest. Despite being fully clothed, she felt utterly exposed. 

Realizing she was holding her breath, she let out a shaky exhale. He glanced up at her and their eyes locked. Bringing a knuckle under her chin, he tilted her head up. Slowly, he leaned closer. And closer.

Anticipation drove all rational thought from her mind. Every inch of her body hummed in response to his proximity; his nearness kindling a dormant craving that she’d refused to acknowledge before. Her lips parted slightly in preparation.

And yet, despite her silent consent, he hesitated. Breathless expectation stretched the moment into an eternity. Impatient, she rose to her tiptoes to try to kiss him, desperate to end this delicious torment.

But he evaded her. 

Using his height to his advantage, he managed to stay just out of reach of her questing lips. Defeated, she settled back on her heels and glared up at him in flustered confusion. A wicked half smile curved across his face as he huffed a laugh.

“Now, who looks stupid?” he teased mildly. 

Humiliation flashed over her like a bucket of ice water. Her temper was quick to follow as she tensed, her hands balling into fists. Ready to lash out, she was just about to cock her arm to strike him right in the gut when he kissed her. 

Fingers curling into a tight grip on the lapels of her jacket, he dragged her into him. His lips captured hers firmly, eliciting a soft sound of shock from her. Taking advantage of her surprise, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Although it was only for a moment, the velvety caress sent a bolt of pure lust straight through her. Anger completely forgotten, she clung to him, her knees weak. 

He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching hers. Something in her expression must have pleased him as the wicked smile returned. He kissed her again, stealing the breath from her lungs. 

This time he kissed her slowly and steadily, remaining totally in control. Only offering just enough to lure her to the edge of satisfaction, he would then retreat, making an opportunity to plant a couple of lingeringly sweet pecks against her cheeks before returning to brush his lips against hers to coax her into another round. 

Driven mad with hunger for more, she clutched at his clothes, pulling at him in desperation. A quiet grunt of dissatisfaction escaped her as her ache for him grew stronger. Sensing her growing fervor, at last he gave her exactly what she needed. 

Pushing her flush against the wall with his body, he took her face in his hands and kissed her senseless. She surrendered herself wholly to the connection, lost in the swirling sea of sensations as his tongue and lips worked in harmony with her own. 

Lightheaded and out of breath, she tilted her face away as she panted for air. Undeterred, his left arm snaked around her waist, keeping her close. He worked his way down the length of her jaw, leaving scorching hot kisses in his wake. His cybernetic hand still cradled her cheek as she tipped her head to allow him better access to her neck. The smooth finish of his metal fingers was exotic against the tender flesh of her cheek, exciting her further. 

Briefly, he stopped to nuzzle her neck. His teeth nipped at the rapid pulse in her throat. She gasped at the sharp flicker of discomfort, the shock further fanning the flames of her desire. Before she could recover, his lips pressed against the soft shell of her ear. The hot flutter of his breath made her quiver. 

She could hear the amusement in his voice as he whispered, “I think I may have found the perfect way to shut you up.”

[prettysilkk]

Me and who? 🖤🤍

[sweetimpurity]

☽༓･˚⁺‧͙ day 11! yayayy! I blacked out for this one 🥵

wc: 2.2k cw: bondage, breeding ;) enjoy!! ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Shit…” He sighs. Running a hand through his hair, the talons peeking out slightly. They’ve been coming out and going back in all day, little pin pricks aching at his fingertips. Sensitive when he touches anything, pissing him off. Like he can’t control it. He’s been cooped up in his office all day. 

“Lyla. Update.” He demands in monotone, brow furrowed and focusing on the levels and charts on the holographic screen in front of him. The hovering pixels refresh as the levels increase and decrease. Numbers calculating. “They’re on their way back… just finishing some cleanup.” She replies. Hovering over his desk before settling, ‘leaning’ on a coffee mug from a few days ago. He hasn’t done anything, hasn’t eaten or drank anything since you left on that damn mission three days ago.  He should have remembered. That this specific time would have him aching for you. And now you’ve been gone. It’s his own damn fault and he’s been beating himself up over it. Feeling heavy, feverish, angry. He’s been tracking his levels every hour. Hormones and brain activity. Why must his warped genetics plague him in this way?

“Lyla I…I thought the serum was supposed to help…” He sighs, brow twitching, eyes closing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It will… but you only took one dose. It’ll be more effective after a few more.” She replies. Watching him with a raised brow. His behavior. 

He sighs again, a slight growl in the back of his throat. Pacing back and forth on his platform and crossing his beefy arms, like trapping his restless hands under them. Finally sitting down in his chair. His legs spread wide. It’s the only way with the pressure in his loins. With the need to be released. He’s in rut. As embarrassing as it is. And you’re not here. It’s like the perfect storm. 

“Oh- just landed…” Lyla chirps, popping up by him and displaying the portal chamber surveillance footage right in front of his face. Too close to his face, lighting his angry features up in a yellow glow. “Lyla!” He growls, trying to grab at her pixelated form. His hand went right through. But his eyes finally land on your form. Walking through the main portal alongside some other spider people. The team he sent you with. You’ve just entered the building and he can already smell you. Your pheromones. You’re floors and floors down and he’s already getting hard. The pressure in his suit tightening. “Lyla. Go.” 

She giggles. Floating around, teasing him. She’s all too familiar with his behavior by now. She puts up with so much. “Have fun, bossman…” She snarks, her hologram dissipating in front of his frowny face. A huff of relief leaving him once she’s gone. Leaving him alone. Waiting for you. 

He groans. The ache. His cock hard and hurting for you. Glancing over his shoulder at the door. Not yet. His hands go down, cupping his erection, only to whine softly at the pain he inflicts. Just the smallest of touches and he’s keeling over in his desk chair. “Ay… Fuck…” He sighs. Sharp canines biting down hard on his lip.

“Heyyyy!” Your voice breaks through the silence of his office. Your scent is stronger than ever when you push the door open. The stimulation goes straight to his dick, like it’s begging for your heat. Begging to be soothed in your slick warmth. Desperate to fill you up. To mate. To breed you. 

“Oh my god, you should have seen me out there… I was pretty good if I do say so myself… got the bad guy and all that. Even got a few common crooks while we were staking out…” You explain, jumping up on his platform. Bringing the box of equipment to his desk and setting it down. It’ll need to be cleaned and assessed. Some pieces to be fixed before they go back in rotation. 

His eyes darken. Watching you walk by. He’s glad you’re back. Of course. He loves you. But his mind isn’t on that right now. Right now he’s thinking about how good you’d look swollen and full of his babies. Full of his cock. Dripping with his potent seed. 

“Ben was a perfect alternative, he stepped in and really helped us out… Peter thought so too…” You keep going. Going over everything that happened over the past few days. “That’s… good…” He manages to say. His voice low and hushed, a croak. Watching your back, your ass. Moving from behind the chair, standing a few feet behind you now. He swallows hard. 

You glance up at his screens. He must have been busy as always. Keeping himself busy. Your hands slow down as you place machinery pieces on his desk from the mission supply. Spider senses tingling. 

In a matter of seconds, he’s pressing up against you. His chest against your back and his nose burying in your hair, in your neck. Inhaling your scent. His hearing picks up on the rise in your heart rate. The way you react to him. 

“Missed me, hm?” You hum, smiling and leaning into him. 

“More than you know…” He huffs. Pressing himself into your ass. Letting you feel just how needy he is. Your suspicions were correct. It’s that time again. Your senses never let you down. 

“That’s good because I missed you…” You whisper. Coaxing him. Leaning your head back on his shoulder. Letting him grind into your ass. Rubbing his erection into the soft plushness. And you hear the releases of breath from his lips, like he’s been pent up so long. “I love you…” He whispers by your ear. One of his big hands wrapping around, splaying across your tummy, imagining himself burying deep, all the way to your womb. 

“I love you too…” You can’t help but smile, rubbing back against him, hearing the slight hiss at the back of his throat. “Remember that…” He hums, something of a warning. The words stir something inside you. And you know what’s to come. This kind of fuck only comes once in a blue moon. Because normal Miguel would never allow himself to be so cruel. 

“Remember.” He hums in your ear. Turning dials on his watch this whole time. Smashing the screen and your suit instantly retracts. The confrontation of the cold on your skin makes you shiver. It’s too much for him. Your scent is stronger than ever. His dick leaking and crying to be inside you already. A strong hand on your back pushes you down to the desk. Tits smooshing and tummy contracting on the cold glass surface. A shiver and gasp filling your body. His hands work fast. White stringy webs leaving his wrists. Letting them bind and wrap around you. Working them around your torso, across your breasts. His webs, decorating your skin, wrapping you up. He wraps them around your wrists like ropes, only stronger, harder to break. Beautiful web designs scatter along your arms, wrapped around your body like a fly in a spider’s web. Like you’re the spider’s final meal. A loud thwip and he’s mounting webs on two opposite walls, letting it connect to your arms and spreading them wide. You can’t escape, you can barely move. Hanging, dangling, ever so slightly. With only the desk under your belly for support. But then there’s his hands. 

His big warm hands, suddenly bare of his suit. His dark tanned skin, fingers running up your hips, down your ass and delivering a gentle smack. Making you whine. Your pussy aching for him at this point. And he can smell it. He can smell your slick, he can almost taste it in the air. Like a drug he knows by taste alone. It’s taking all his willpower not to pound into you just yet. But the rut does not cloud his judgment to that extent. He could never forget that he loves you and would never dream of hurting you. Tying you up in his webs, that’s a different story. 

His hand wraps around, fingers running up your slit, parting your folds and collecting your slick on his fingers. Bring the fingertips to his mouth to wet them further, tasting you and groaning. “Oh baby- fuck so good… so so good…” He mumbles, his hand going back down between your thighs and running along your slippery sex. His fingers teasing your hole before plunging inside. Making you shiver and shake. Pulling on the webs you’re restrained in. One finger, then two. Dripping down his fingers and onto the desk. His hormone levels are off the charts. His mind going crazy. Wanting to come. Wanting to spill his seed but needing it to be inside you. He won’t waste it. He needs to get you pregnant.

“Oh Miguel!! Ah! Mm-ngh…!” His fingers work their magic, bringing you to glorious orgasm. Your juices dripping down his knuckles as you moan and whine. The webs straining and tensing under the pressure of your pull. Panting for breath, your knees pulling up and hitting against the edge of his desk. Bent over, tied up and needy for more. 

When you come down from the high, his fingers pull free. Bringing his fingers to his lips. He’s quiet. In a trance. Hazy and half gone and he hasn’t even gotten to the good part yet. His eyes flutter and roll back at the taste of you on his tongue. Sucking on his fingers ravenously and you can only hear the sucking sounds mixed with his groans. Crimson eyes blowing wide, bashing his watch for his suit to disappear entirely. Instantly grinding his hard, pulsing dick along your puffy pussy. Teasing his tip around your entrance and sucking on his fingers like it soothes him. Pacifies his ache even a little bit. 

“Baby- babe you want… I want- you’re so good, baby, taste so good…” He murmurs incoherently, whining. Pushing his cock through your folds, up to your clit, making your toes curl, knees drawing up. Wrapping your hands around the webs binding you. “Ngh just take it all, okay? I’ll fill you up and-and… and… Dios…ah, te amo tanto… no puedo vivir sin ti…” He whimpers. The softness of your pussy against his needy tip makes him crumble. Keeling over and pressing his mouth to your shoulder. Massaging his dick through your slick. Savoring the feeling for a moment longer. “Ay mami…” 

He bites down on your shoulder. Using his fingers to guide his cock to your core and slipping in. His brain short circuiting at the tight wet pressure. “Fuck!” He growls, instantly spurting hot white. His voice hoarse and needy. Grabbing your hips in the front and pushing in all the way to the hilt. Pushing you up the desk, the webs straining as your arms pull. His body practically mounting yours. Stretching you out on his girth in one go. Pulling a shrill cry from your lips, moaning at the warmth flooding your belly. “Ngh-Miguel! Ohhhh….”

“Oh yes…” He hisses. Finding relief in final release. Who gives a shit if he didn’t get two pumps in before it happened. He’ll pump you with much more cum before the night is over.  

He pulls back, drawing aching whimpers from your lips. Trying to soothe you with kisses to your shoulder blades, your neck. Collecting your hair into his hand and gently pulling back. Moaning as he does it. And he plunges back in, molding you around his cock. Slipping in easier with his cum loosening you up. “T-todo lo que siempre he necesitado, mami…” His sweet words make your heart flutter. His face tucking into your neck from behind as he pumps into you.  

Moaning as he pulls back again and thrusts back in deep. Working up a rhythm, holding your hair back. His other hand wraps around to your clit, rubbing with tenderness in a stark contrast to his powerful pumps. Webs straining, the tension threatening to break the strands as you cry out for him. Legs shaking and trembling. His own moans are broken and hoarse. Full of need and desperation. All he can think of is filling you up. His cum, his DNA tainting you, mixing with yours. Making babies. Lots of them. The image of you full of his children makes him crazy. “You’ll be such a pretty mami, baby… so pretty, so so so…” He pants. His hips slapping your ass with every push, like wild animals in the jungle. His spider half taking over completely. Your soft whimpering moans fill his ears. His words shooting right to your core, making your eyes roll back and gushing on him. Crying out for him and the webs snap! Your arms dropping and you’d fall flat on the desk if he didn't grab you in time. Pulling you to his chest, pumping into you even faster. Climbing up on the desk and kneeling down for leverage. Pushing your body down to arch for him. Pounding into you with unending power. Even after you come, he doesn’t stop. Pulling one more trembling orgasm from you before he’s spurting once more. Filling you just like he promised. Finally stopping with a huff. His mind mostly gone but there’s part of him left, just for you. 

“You okay, mama? Look at me…” He whispers, turning you over gently. Admiring that look on your face. That fucked out smile. “Te amo… needa make sure it sticks…” 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[justaz]

when merlin asks arthur for things, the king is usually inclined to give him what he wants but it is not always guaranteed such as when his emotions cloud his judgement. but merlin’s surefire way of getting arthur to give in? he steps into his space, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says “arthur, please” and he folds like a house of cards.

[abbeyofcyn]

I made this for @pickledcarrotsandradish for the @rottmnt-secret-gifting event

I hope you like it and thanks to everyone involved in organising the event 💜🧡

[caleod]

11-10-24 "Snacks"

[wolfsbanesparks]

Trick or treat! 🍬🍫🍭

Can I see a Billy saving another hero in his human form, leaving the hero confused how and why this child just saved them?

Happy Halloween!

Billy was supposed to be in Metropolis for work, a long weekend of networking and prepping for his weekly WHIZ radio show. He should have known better than to hope for a peaceful conclusion to the journalism conference--not when all of Superman's closest civilian friends worked for the Daily Planet.

In the ensuing chaos following the entrance of the Kryptonite powered attack drones, Billy was forced to duck and weave through the panicked crowd, searching desperately for a semi-private place to hide and transform into Captain Marvel, but he wasn't having much luck on that front.

One of the drones swooped into the crowd, a man's voice shouting out as he was thrown to the ground, a sharp shard of kryptonite in his shoulder. Billy raced towards him, vaguely recalling meeting him just an hour ago before the conference was set to begin.

Billy grabbed a large serving tray from one of the nearby tables, using it to smack the drone away. He may not have been strong as Billy, but smashing it repeatedly with all his strength seemed to do the trick. It sputtered and writhed on the marble floor, no longer able to fly. Billy pulled his foot back and kicked it across the room where he shuddered violently before falling still.

Billy then turned his attention to Clark Kent and the shard of kryptonite in his shoulder. He looked positively green, though that might have just been the soft glow of the alien rock or the sight of his own blood.

"Don't worry, I've got this," he said as he dropped to his knees beside the large crumple form of his fellow reporter. Without giving the man time to protest, Billy wrapped his hand in his own tie and yanked the shard out, careful not to cut himself. He shoved the shard in his pocket, silently reminding himself to turn it over to the Justice League later.

He used his tie to a temporary tourniquet to stop the bleeding before it got too bad.

Satisfied with his work, Billy took off into the chaos again, searching for anyone else that might need his help. He didn't notice the wild look in Clark Kent's face as he vanished into the crowd, nor did he see the identical one on Superman's face when Captain Marvel showed up to help round up the last of the drones.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest & @steddie-spooktober.

Smell My Feet

CCF Prompt: Envy & Spooktober Prompt: Trick or Treat | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Pre-Steddie? They're Kiddos | CW: Latchkey Kids | Tags: Pre-Series, Trick or Treating, Halloween Night, Making a New Temporary Friend Was So Much Easier As Kids

Whoa. This neighborhood is crazy. Eddie pulls up on his bicycle, and looks around. Taking in all the houses. The big, big houses that probably have all the best candy. Kids are running everywhere, criss-crossing the streets, yelling at their friends.

And Eddie can't help but wonder what they're getting. Good stuff, he bets. 

Eddie is all by himself, with Wayne at work. Eddie doesn't know anyone very well, not yet, making friends is hard, especially when you show up a month and half after the first day, but that's okay. He doesn't mind all that much. He's used to moving around.

Tonight though, he's too busy watching the other kids as they're hitting all the houses on the block. He'd listened to his classmates at school gossiping about where the best trick-or-treating would be. He couldn't help but feel jealous hearing them chatter about what they got last year, including dollar bills from the Smith's and the best homemade orange popcorn balls from Ms. Ellen, whoever that is.

All Eddie knew is that he wanted full-size candy bars, dollar bills and orange popcorn balls, too. So, he put on his costume, the cheap plastic thing from Melvald's, and rode his bike the seven miles to get here.

His legs hurt, the pants are kind of shredded, and Wayne's definitely gonna kill him. He was supposed to stay in the trailer park. Trick-or-treat there, because Wayne got thrown on the schedule at the plant, at the last minute. It happens. Eddie's used to it. He's good at taking care of himself. 

But tonight's Halloween. 

And Eddie doesn't want to trick-or-treat in the trailer park, because Eddie knows his neighbors. Knows what he'd get, and he didn't want a pillowcase full of peanut butter kisses and Sixlets.

Instead, he dreams of full size candy bars. Snickers and Hershey and Reeses. 

And Wayne drove him through Loch Nora, showing him the houses he planned to take him to, and Eddie's good at memorizing things he's seen before, so he had no problem getting back. Even if it took a long time. Even if his legs burned from riding uphill.

But he forgets that, the second the candy starts rolling in. And it is good stuff.

After leaning his bike against a tree in the yard, Eddie knocks on the door, remembers to say trick-or-treat, and is surprised to see another little boy standing there with an orange Tupperware bowl of full-size candy bars in his hands.

"Pick one," the boy says, and Eddie looks at all the choices, before taking one from the bowl. 

"Thank you," Eddie says, remembering to be polite. Before he had to work, Uncle Wayne had said they could come to the rich neighborhood, but that Eddie had to be good and polite if they did. Uncle Wayne might not be with him to see if he's polite or not, but he'll still try his best.

The other boy nods, and Eddie can't help asking, "Why aren't you out trick-or-treating?"

The boy shrugs, "My parents aren't home yet. So, I'm answering the door until they get here. And now my friends have already gone without me, anyway. It's okay."

"Oh," Eddie says, and it's not okay. Eddie would hate to miss trick-or-treating. He lingers on the step, then says, "Well, if your parents get home, you can go trick-or-treating with me, if you want to."

"Okay, yeah," the kid says, looking a little happier than he did when he answered the door.

"I'm Eddie," Eddie tells him.

"I'm Steve."

"Okay, Steve. I'll be back later."

"If you forget, that's okay, too," Steve says, and Eddie's not gonna forget. His memory is good.

"I won't forget. You got a costume?"

And Steve nods.

"Good. Get it on."

Steve nods again, and Eddie smiles. He can hit a few more houses, and then go back to see if Steve's ready to go get some candy. 

Eddie takes a long look at the house, memorizing where it sits, and pedals off towards the next house.

Twenty minutes later, Eddie returns, Steve comes out, and he's wearing a Donald Duck mask.

"My mom picked it," Steve says, pushing it up onto the top of his head, and Eddie decides not to make fun. At least Steve still has a mom to pick out his costumes, as stupid as he looks.

"They still aren't home," Steve says.

Eddie takes the bowl, and puts it on the porch, "Got a pen and paper?"

Sign made, they get on their bikes and take off down the bustling street, looking for their first house.

House after house, they run around the whole neighborhood. Steve gives him tips on houses he might have missed otherwise without his inside info.

"Do it," Eddie urges as he pushes the bell and Steve giggles.

The door opens, and Eddie nudges Steve.

"Trick-or-treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat," they both sing-song, and the lady behind the door laughs. Eddie can't believe he got Steve to do it.

"Oh, Steven," she says, but gives them both a big handful of candy.

They both say thank you, and Eddie's having fun. Steve's a year younger than he is, so that's why he's never seen him before at school, but he's tall. Taller than Eddie. 

Eddie's pillowcase is getting heavy and a little hard to handle.

When Steve says he's gotten enough, Eddie happily throws in the towel, too.

Back at Steve's house, they lay on the floor of the huge living room on their bellies, spreading all their candy out, ready to make trades. Steve's parents still haven't come home, and Eddie wonders if they just work late sometimes like Wayne. 

Eddie needs to go.

"Maybe we should ask the neighbor next door to drive you home," Steve says, "it's pretty late."

"I'll be okay," Eddie says, but he does worry about all that candy weighing him down.

Steve follows him to the door, "Thanks for going with me."

Eddie just nods, "Find me at recess. We'll hang out."

And Steve grins, and Eddie really hopes he does.

Steve walks him to his bike, and the streets are pretty empty, trick-or-treating over for another year. Maybe next year Eddie can come back here and do it with Steve again. 

There's one set of headlights, and Steve holds Eddie back at the end of the driveway. It slows as soon as the headlights catch sight of them.

It's a woman, and she rolls down the window, asking kindly, "Steve. It's a little late to be on your bikes, isn't it?"

Steve isn't even on a bike, Eddie thinks. 

"Hi, Nurse Claudia," Steve says, then looks at Eddie. "Um, I know. We lost track of time. This is Eddie. He's just going to ride home."

"Do you live around here, Eddie?" she asks.

And Eddie shakes his head. 

"Can I give you a ride home, then?" she asks, and Eddie really doesn't want to get in with a stranger all by himself. He looks in the backseat and she does have a little kid in a car seat, dressed as a pumpkin.

"Nurse Claudia used to work at the school, before she had a baby," Steve offers, and Eddie nods. That's probably okay, then. It was a long way from the trailer park to here, and now it's dark and cold.

A ride wouldn't be so bad.

"Okay. Thank you," Eddie says, and Steve helps him load his bike into the back hatch of her car, the little kid sound asleep in the backseat, plastic pumpkin clutched in his fist.

Eddie crawls into the front seat, and waves at Steve as they pull away.

"So, Eddie, where do you live?" Nurse Claudia asks.

"Forest Hills Trailer Park," Eddie answers.

"Dustin and I will be happy to take you home. That's a long way, huh?"

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on all the Seven Deadly Sins, or to offer up your own!

For more Spooktober, pop on over to @steddie-spooktober to follow along with the fun!

Notes: I fucking love peanut butter kisses, Eddie, and I will not stand for this slander of them. The molasses taffy? The dry, crumbly peanut butter inside? Sign me up. (They were discontinued a few years ago, and I haven't seen any knockoffs of them locally.)

Want to see what costumes looked like in 1975? Enter at your own risk. (See: Donald Duck, top row, second from the right.)

And I was a door answering kid on Halloween. Though, for me, unlike for Steve, it was by choice. I liked to answer the door and hand out treat bags that I put together with my mom. It's still my favorite holiday.

Happy Halloween! 🎃

[syndrossi]

October Trick or Treat #1: Caraxes's POV of hatchlings

The prompt was "Caraxes's POV of growing fond of hatchlings," but the fill ended up being "Caraxes's early POV of the boys and hatchlings." Maybe there will be a sequel at some point of the original prompt!

I had a blast figuring out how I wanted to write dragon POV, so I'm glad this prompt gave me the chance to explore it.

x~x~x

They are egg-fresh, Daemon’s scaled hatchlings, and they still stink of fire mountain and blood. They are nothing like the little ones of the red rock cave, or the salt-damp fire of Syrax’s clutch. They burn his eyes and tickle his nose.

The blood stink is like the deep black, like tired Balerion. It is like the silence without Daemon.

They do not know their stink, and Daemon’s dark hatchling wraps one in his pelt to mask it, so that it is cold iron blood instead. It helps when he carries Daemon and the dark hatchling in search of the light one, the thunder rain meadow.

They fly over river and grass, but they will not find him there. Caraxes had smelled the iron and thunder from afar in the long search before, Daemon but away, familiar and strange. Kin.

But the thunder is quenched, the rain drowned, and the meadow buried. Only the soft-skinned can do such.

The dark hatchling’s dark hatchling cries for fire mountain and blood, keening its confusion, and the larger hatchling smells of pain and fear. Twin-lost twins, parted from their clutchmates. Daemon burns, everburning, as he has for all the long flight, as he always does. Pain-fear-love-sorrow always bright, always sharp.

Daemon burns like a dragon. He is the most dragon of the riders, Caraxes has always told the others. Enemies are to be burned, kin are to be loved, and all is fire.

(Except on the place of wet stone and metal meat, which smothered the fire to embers, stoked only by wind and flight. Caraxes learned to fear the iron branches, to watch and guard when Daemon would not.)

He lands at last, and Daemon’s flame is fluttering fear-fast. The dark scaled hatchling cries again, scenting its blood stink, but the other hatchling does not understand. Caraxes lets himself rest. They will learn. It takes new riders time, especially when they are only hatchlings themselves.

They will find the light hatchling and the blue, and perhaps Daemon will introduce his new clutch properly at last.

[krenenbaker]

Trick or Treat~!

Pairing: Che'nya x Floyd (could be read platonically or romantically)

Summary: It's finally Halloween night, but Floyd is in a bit of a slump. However, the arrival of a curious companion may just make the Halloween party a bit more interesting for him.

Notes: This is my first attempt at something following a prompt - specifically, "Trick or Treat" for the 2023 TWST Rarepair Halloween event. I'm trying to get more comfortable/practiced with writing prose (which is why this wasn't posted on the 30th... oops), and only vaguely ended up following the prompt. I'm fairly happy with how this little piece turned out, though!

Tags: @dove-da-birb, @azulashengrottospiano, @inkybloom-luv, @eynnwwyjth, @officialdaydreamer00 (please let me know if you'd like to be included or excluded from future writing of mine, or only want to be included in specific types of creations)

Floyd wanted to take a break. 

It was Halloween, and all he had done the entire week was work, work, work. Getting costumes ready, decorating, helping with their dorm's presentation, plus cooking and serving at the Lounge, all on top of normal classes? 

Sure, it was fun, especially getting to show off Octavinelle's cool setup, and 'taking care of' those misbehaving visitors. But now? Everything felt draining and boring, and Floyd simply wanted to leave, which sucked because the actual Halloween party had just started!  

Maybe he should just ditch and go back to his dorm; being in a funk when everyone else is having fun around you is not enjoyable.  He slumped down on a bench and unwrapped a sweet he had picked up earlier, before wrapping it up again. Ugh, not even in the mood for that candy he wanted only a few minutes ago. 

As he shoved the sweet back into his pocket and was about to get up from the bench to leave, Floyd heard a rustle behind him. Someone was quietly humming, and… laughing? The sound gradually moved to his side, towards the empty side of the bench.  

“Trick or treat~”

Floyd turned to face the voice. "Listen, man, I'm not in the mood to—” he froze, staring at the figure beside him. “Hang on a second, where's your body!?"

A toothy smile came to the face of the head that currently floated beside Floyd. "Oh, it's here.... or maybe it's there." A pair of hands materialized on either side of this boy's head, followed by the rest of his body. 

“I'm just kidding. Mind if I take a seat? I’d like to rest up before I keep purrowling around and startling people.”

Floyd blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Uh, go for it.” 

This guy was... weird, and it was hard to tell if he'd be annoying, or interesting. "You don't go here, do ya? At least, I’ve never seen you before. And you’re no ghost, either.”

The cat-like boy shook his head, his jewellery jingling softly. "I'm just passing through for the festivities and collecting treats. Scaring some people, too. That’s loads of fun. And it's always nice to see my friends let loose." 

Floyd had a vague memory surface. "Ohh... you must be that RSA boy who's friends with Sea Turtle and Goldfishie." 

"'Sea Turtle' and 'Goldfishie', hey? Those are good names for my green and red friends. Cats are known for liking fish." He leaned forward, his grin growing. “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Floyd nodded, “Floyd Leech. It's nice to meet you, too.” He looked curiously at the boy beside him, taking in his shaggy hair, piercings, and impish smile.

"You're not what I expected.” Floyd smiled, "But you seem fun, Catfish. I didn't think Goldfishie would get along with someone so... interesting."

Che'nya's eyes lit up slightly. "Catfish? Heh heh heh, most people call me Che'nya, but I guess that works. And I’ve heard some… interesting stories about you, too."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back with his arms behind his head as he sighed. "But yeah, I don't think Riddle could shake me if he tried." 

"I'm almost jealous." Floyd tipped his head slightly. "Most of the time, Goldfishie likes to swim away before I can play with him."

Che'nya laughed, "Well, if you're wondering, he 'swam off' that way." He pointed off to the side. “Just don’t be rough with him. I don’t like people mistreating my friends.”

Floyd looked off into the crowd where he had pointed, and let out a small laugh. “Alright, good to know. Maybe I’ll find him later, if I feel like it”, he smiled and sat back. “And Goldfishie’s stronger than he looks, but I guess you’d know that.”

Che’nya nodded, then leaned closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet we could do something that would really surprise him.” 

Floyd turned slightly towards Che’nya, and flashed a smile. “Yeah, we probably could. I think we should talk more in the future, Catfish. You seem pretty fun.” 

Che’nya grinned, “You seem pretty fun, too.”

"Well,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I think I’m going to go and find some more treats… and play some more tricks tonight. I'll catch you around, Floyd." 

With a haunting giggle echoing in his ears, Floyd watched as the boy beside him faded into nothingness, just the same way he had arrived. 

What a weird guy.

Floyd unwrapped the candy he had pocketed earlier, then popped it into his mouth. Maybe this party was worth staying at after all.

[tlmtwelve]

As mentioned the other day, I wanted to do a companion sketch for my previous @pinahallowsevecloneparty CANDY prompt (this one) - and so I'm ending the month with an exhausted Rex, who passed out after Trick or Treating with his squad 🎃

[its-all-papaya]

trick or treat!!!!

come trick or treating!!

for you... a sequel idea/snippet ! carlando podium (and subsequent carlando Obscenely Husbandly Behavior) in mexico made me think the devil in me thoughts...

Lando is drunk when he returns - a little louder than he usually is, knocking into Oscar's suitcase with his toe and hissing "fuck" under his breath where he usually probably wouldn't.

His shoes hit the carpet with two separate thumps. He giggles at something quietly, phone screen lighting up the room Oscar'd made deliberately dark when he'd arrived back from the track. Still half asleep, Oscar watches through slitted eyes as Lando struggles out of his top and tosses it towards the arm chair for one of them to deal with in the morning. Him, probably. Lando's not sloppy, but he'd been dehydrated enough before dinner that his hangover is going to be a bitch long about their wake-up call at ten in the morning regardless.

The bathroom light goes on only a second before the door shuts, but Oscar gets enough of Lando's back, muscles shifting with the stretch of his shoulders, to reignite the spark from earlier. From the moments after they'd filmed, before Lando had run off, when Oscar had pressed him into the doorway and spread his hand all the way across Lando's fireproofs, still damp with podium champagne. And from the moments even later, when he'd tapped through Lando's private instagram story. And Carlos'.

The shower runs. One complaint from Oscar in Miami about sweat and club grime in the bed had taught Lando his lesson about that. Enough minutes tick by tonight, though, that Oscar begins to wonder which one of them Lando's doing it for. Afterparties always key him up that way, blowing his pupils out and sticking him to Oscar's back in bed even when he's not drunk or on anything. Going out always puts him in that mood, but Oscar's one mental loop of Carlos' face from crawling out of bed and right into the shower anyway. Like tonight's any different.

He writes the thoughts off as sleepy irrationality and forces his mind blank against the white noise of running water. By the time it cuts, he's been in and out enough that time is fuzzy; he can't be sure whether it had gone long enough for Lando to accomplish anything other than a quick rinse.

He smells neutral, like lemon hotel soap, when he slips under the covers and plasters himself to Oscar's side. And he's damp, still, like he hadn't really bothered to towel off much.

And naked.

His lips are hot when they land at Oscar's shoulder, his palm broad and warm when it slips across the dip of Oscar's spine where it's peeking out above the hotel duvet.

"Have fun?" Oscar mumbles into his pillow. It comes out muffled, slurred, like he's the one who'd been downing Ferrari-red shots less than ninety minutes back.

He can feel the way Lando's lips curve against his skin, "Knew you were awake."

"Wasn't."

"Are now."

Lando's half-hard against his thigh, shifting his hips in lazy little movements. If Oscar ignored him, he's probably not too far gone to roll over and sleep himself.

Oscar drags in one last lungful of warm air from his pillow, then turns onto his side, face-to-face with Lando and his cheeky, hazy grin.

"Because you woke me," he argues back lazily.

"You weren't that asleep," Lando's cheeks are still flushed from his shower and his teeth glint in the alarm-clock's light when he speaks, sharp, "You were watching Instagram stories forty-five minutes ago."

Oscar forces his face to hold shape.

"You check your story views?"

Lando's smirk turns delighted. Oscar gets the feeling he's stepped directly into a trap he hadn't known was being laid.

"Wasn't my story."

Oscar's next inhale catches halfway down his throat as his brain whites out at the implications. When he's somewhere between picturing Lando's chin tucked over Carlos' shoulder and trying not to do just that, he's interrupted with lips under his own jaw and five fingers spanning the entire length of his neck, shoulder to ear.

"You like watching?" Lando asks against his adam's apple.

It all plays back behind Oscar's eyes like a stop motion: podium, Carlos' arms out, hands clasped, heads bent together, smiles and shots and a dozen different arms around Lando's shoulders, mumbling happy Spanish into his ears until his grin broke broad and genuine. Oscar knows what they are, Carlos and Lando. But the spark in Lando's eyes when he tilts Oscar's chin back down with his finger and thumb says Lando knows what Oscar is, too.

Oscar hooks his hand behind Lando's knee and drags him closer until their hips are aligned, Lando's leg over Oscar's hip.

"You like being watched?" he whispers against Lando's mouth.

The first roll of their cocks together forces Lando's breath out in a hot rush across Oscar's lips. He threads his fingers into the back of Oscar's hair and kisses him long and deep, tongue so far in Oscar's mouth that Oscar swears he can taste the last of the tequila from Carlos' final story.

When they separate, Lando's eyes are all pupil, lips slick, hand tight around Oscar's nape.

"I like how you get when you're jealous."

Oscar presses his hips forward another time. His protest never comes.

[prettysilkk]

Anyone see long legs? And anyone know if it’s good?

[sisaloofafump]

Treat! Lois and Clark trying to scare Bruce please haha

They think their best bet is to scare him awake when he passed out over casefiles while dami and Jon are out trick or treating. He doesn’t react

[suzylind]

Sonadowtober Day 31: Trick or Treat

(I couldn't resist doing this in particular)~

[in-my-loki-feels]

🎃Trick or treat!🎃

We can never have enough fooling around in the Archives, right? Here is an early S1 scene that I started and then forgot I had in a doc somewhere. 🤭

CW mildly NSFW/suggestive

Loki hadn’t been out of the time collar long before he pounced. Mobius had thought he would run, actually, like he had when he first arrived and managed to get free. Mobius should’ve forced Loki to stick to Miss Minutes videos, instead of letting him tag along like a naughty puppy, because now he was nipping at Mobius’ heels with question after question. It was a miracle he shushed when the Archivist shot him a look.  The silence should’ve been its own warning, but Mobius was eager to break out the files on the variant and put Loki to work, so he thought he’d enjoy it while it lasted. But no sooner had he ducked between shelves, looking for the box he needed, than Loki spun him around with a hand on his shoulder and kissed him.  Mobius had expected more lead up, honestly. A little more seduction, or an appeal to how he could make Mobius’ life very interesting if Mobius let him go. Instead, Loki kissed him like he was trying to take something from him, and it was good, up until Loki bit his lip.  “Ow!” Mobius hissed, mindful of keeping his voice down. He tried to push Loki back, but Loki was pinning him to the bookshelf, grinning wildly. It was easy to see how this was the same variant who had tried to take over New York. “You need to behave or you’re going right back into that time collar.” Loki eyed him and then dove in for another rough kiss. For a brief moment, Loki was flush against him and Mobius realized they were both getting hard. The danger of being caught wasn't helping.  “Hey.” Mobius tore his mouth away and grabbed Loki’s wrists, using that to push him back. “I said, behave.” Loki looked at him a moment more, before his smile took on a wicked edge. He held Mobius’ gaze as he sank to his knees, easily pulling free from Mobius’ now-slack grip. Loki slid his hands down Mobius’ torso to the front of his slacks, all while never looking away.  “Is this better?”