#of course something wants to feed off that but

[angelcqre]

CoD TMA AU

ARCHIVIST

Statement of [Name Redacted], regarding her camping trip in The Grampian Mountains. Original statement given January Fifteenth, Two Thousand and Fifteen. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

Now, before you say anything, I know how I sound. I know that it was stupid to go out into the middle of uncharted wilderness and get piss drunk. Believe me, I'm not interested, the park ranger gave me an earful when he found me and the cops did the same. Especially now. But.. something happened, something bad, and if I don't - if I don't say it, I don't know. I'll explode.

So…

I'm not really an outdoors type. I'm an inside cat, I like to curl up with a good book and a cup of tea and my cat, but Farah insisted for her birthday that we go camping. She's always been like that - hiking, caving, camping, it's her thing, and when Farah wants something, she's set on it. Doesn't let it go, especially because she knows how to cash in favors.

So - we went. I didn't want to go, but we went. Me, Farah, her boyfriend, Alex, and her boyfriend's friend. John. I didn't really know him, but he seemed nice enough. We were supposed to spend a long weekend roughing it, three days and three nights for the holiday. We packed plenty of booze, plenty of food, all the proper first aid crap.. and we spent four hours hiking to what John said was the perfect spot.

He was strange from the get-go. A little too touchy-feely, a little too in your space, but he seemed… enthusiastic, I don't know. Eager. He was obviously passionate about it, kept stopping me to show me edible plants, poisonous mushrooms, whatever caught his eye. If it was notable, you'd best believe he was stopping to point it out. It was almost kind of cute, if it wasn't so.. feverish. [VOICE DROPS, ASSUMING SCOTTISH ACCENT.]

"Look, bonnie, look here," and he kept saying it, over and over. It felt like he was trying to prove something - like that he could take care of me, maybe? I don't know.

He just.. didn't stop. He had so much energy, kept moving, expression bright and eyes wild, kept insisting I call him Johnny. It wasn't.. flirting - I don't know what it was. Too familiar. He was so big, just this huge guy, looming over me, smiling with these insanely white teeth that..

Is it crazy to say they looked sharper than.. normal? I know, cliche, but they looked.. sharp. Like fangs. Whatever.

So we settle down on the first night, and of course we all start drinking, set some sausages over the fire, the whole deal. Farah is a clingy drunk, so she disappears with Alex into the woods as soon as she's got some booze in her, and then it's just me and John - Johnny. He hasn't drank a sip the whole time we've been there, just clutching the same beer bottle, nursing it for hours, just.. watching us, and his gaze is so intense. Like he's sizing us up.

At some point, he gets up. Says something about it being "about time", offers me this wink, and then he's strolling off into the woods, whistling to himself.

A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go…

He doesn't come back for naarly an hour. They don't come back for nearly an hour, and I start to get a little worried. I mean, look at me, I would not be able to, like, fight a bear if it came down to it, you know? I just keep feeding the fire, getting jumpier and jumpier, but eventually, he comes back, and..

At first, I don't know what it is. He just looks.. dark. His mohawk looks wet, and his clothes are stuck to him, outlining every muscle, but he doesn't step out into the firelight, stays in the shadows, so only his eyes and his teeth are visible, reflecting the light, and it feels wrong, feels sick.

He asks me, point blank, if I'm tired, and angles his head towards one of the two tents, and I tell him no, not yet, I'm waiting for Farah to get back, and he, uh.. he tells me she's not coming back.

When he steps into the firelight, it's like he's prowling, stalking more than walking, you know? He's moving like… like a predator, all smooth and uncanny, and now that I can see him, I can see that the wetness is.. blood, and he's covered in it, like, head to toe. It's worse at his mouth, his teeth are totally stained, like he was just.. ripping into something, I don't know. Biting. And his teeth are too sharp, and with the way he's moving, and the blood, and.. the look on his face, I just.. bolt.

And he laughs.

I can hear it echoing through the woods, bouncing off of every tree, but I don't hear him running after me. No, he just.. starts walking, and that scares me more, because he's so casual about it. Like he knows I won't get away.

But I run, and as I run, I can hear it, bouncing off of every tree, and it's December, right, so there aren't any leaves to block the moon or muffle the sound. I can hear him whistling as he walks, always seeming to be too close to me, no matter how fast I run, just out of sight, and eventually, I get to a clearing.

Everything feels too still. No nightlife - and there hasn't been any wildlife, no birds, no squirrels, nothing, and I'm realizing how bad that is.

And of course, I trip. My foot gets stuck in a gopher hole, of all fucking things, and then I'm dropping down, and he's on me.

His hand on my wrist, leaning down, and he's -

I don't know.

His eyes are blown out, manic, his teeth so large, ears.. pointed? I don't know, but he's drooling as he ruts against me, all but frothing at the mouth, mumbling about mates and calling me his little bunny, telling me that I had my fun, but that he's ready to have his prize, and-

And I have my bear mace still.

Because I can't fight bears.

He starts fidgeting with my clothes, and I just.. I pull it out, spray him, and he's so big, so unnaturally big, his muscles all.. I don't know, tense, wrong, and I spray him until he's howling and then I run.

I don't think the park ranger was happy to see me, but I was sure as shit happy to see her.

The thing is.. and why I came to you guys..

I keep.. getting this feeling.

Like I'm being watched. Hunted.

Like I never really escaped him.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends. We attempted to contact Miss [REDACTED] following a similar statement we'd received months ago, regarding a man fitting the same description, but when Martin spoke to her, she informed him that all was fine, and that she was happy now.

That she was expecting pups.

Knowing Martin, he likely misheard her. I'm likely to dismiss this as a hallucination; with the mushrooms she discussed, perhaps she ingested some. The police seemed to think the same, and administered a drug test upon her statement, which came back... clean.

There isn't much more we can do here. If Miss- er, Mrs. MacTavish, doesn't wish to aid in further investigation, we, unfortunately, are stuck at a standstill.

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

[knight-of-flowerss]

cregan stark headcannons for crushing or a blurb pls ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hii!! I sadly haven’t watched season 2 yet so these are js going off fanon and stuff 😭

Also I’m sorry if this isn’t the best I haven’t wrote properly in a good few months 😭

HOTD Masterlist

CREGAN STARK HEAD CANONS || SFW ||

🃃 Cregan Stark is a stoic man. A Stark man. A full beard at such a young age (ik that in the show he don’t have a beard or summin but these are my head canons and he’s a Stark so-).

🃟 He’s the Winterfell darling basically. It was a running ‘joke’ that every girl wants him and every man wants to be him. And it was 100% true.

🃃 And this is how you ended up here. Staring at the young lord with adoration infecting your eyes.

🃟 Your young heart couldn’t contain the crush that had bubbled over. You had known of this man barely a few months and thanks to your brother, you saw him pretty much everyday.

🃃 Preparing for war wasn’t easy for anyone. But with Cregan’s dashing smile reassuring your family during this crisis, how could you not swoon?

🃟 His eyes, his hair, his beard, his smile. Everything about this man was perfect, you melted whenever you saw him.

🃃 Every time your mother was called into a meeting with Cregan, your brother and your step-father, you jumped at the opportunity to accompany her, claiming that “We’re family mother, we should stick by eachother.”.

🃟 Yes you just lied to your dear mother to get closer to your little crush, do you give a fuck? Fuck no. I mean have y’all seen the Starks? They’re literal sex gods.

🃃 In these meetings, you sat down near the vast table they often bickered at over battle tactics while you started in awe at them all, admiration of your mother, respect for your brother, intimidation of your step-father and desire for Cregan.

🃟 While sat in these meetings you’ll take sneaky glances over at Cregan and for a while, he didn’t even glance your way, give you a passing thought. But after a while you noticed his eyes… lingering.

🃃 One day you were walking around Dragonstone with Joffrey, admiring the sheer beauty of your home when all of a sudden, long dark locks catch your attention.

🃟 At first glance you thought it was Jace, he grew his hair out and really started to become your father more and more with each passing day.

🃃 You look down and see expensive furs trailing the floor as the cape the figure was wearing sweeped up any un-seen muck from the floor.

🃟 You trailed your eyes up and met with frosty-grey eyes peering back at you.

🃃 A sly smirk adorns his rough face, his eyes burning holes into yours.

🃟 Your cheeks flush as your lips part, plump and soft, your front teeth peeking through.

🃃 His large frame stalks towards you, boots beating on the stone floors, striding with a cunty confidence.

🃟 The seven had surely blessed this man. He was sent from the Maiden herself.

🃃 A shadow casts over you, the sun immediately cowering from your soft features. Your doe eyes peer up, looking past your dark decorated hair to trail up to his face.

🃟 After a lengthy few seconds of sexually charged silence, Joffrey speaks up.

🃃 “When are we going to the library sister?”

🃟 You blinked out of your trance. Your head moving towards your baby brother while your eyes stay on Cregan’s, but eventually your eyes drift away from him and set upon your brother.

🃃 “Uh- oh yes uhm, we’ll go now brother.”, your head moves to Cregan, “It’s nice to see you again Lord Stark, I hope it won’t be the last time we all see each other on this visit of yours.”

🃟 Cregan nods, once curved lips, that formed a smirk, fall into a flat line as he agrees, “Of course your grace, I’ll see you both in the hall for the feast.”

🃃 The next time you see the rugged man, it’s the feast in the hall a few hours later.

🃟 You were sat with Joffrey on your left and your other little brother Viserys. Your baby brother had smacked his food out of the maids hands so you offered to feed him something while she cleaned the very large mess.

🃃 Your hand dips the spoon into the oats to lift a hefty amount onto the cutlery, heading towards your huffy brothers opened mouth, little did you know his hand would fly up and smack the spoon into your face.

🃟 A shocked gasp left your mouth as you stared at Viserys, his face lighting up and giggling, you couldn’t help the soft smile that graced your oat-y features.

🃃 You quickly got up and went to clean up before anyone noticed and you didn’t want the attention on you due to your appearance.

🃟 But as you hurried through the doors to clean up, eyes followed your body across the hall. Cregan’s mouth curved into a smile and a small chuckle left his lips.

🃃 But, when you came back you saw something that angered you, more than any amount of oats poured on you could.

🃟 A young woman, a daughter of some Lord that was supporting your mother, was throwing herself all over Cregan.

🃃 And he was enjoying it.

🃟 ‘I shouldn’t be jealous,

you aren’t even mine.’

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

[starlightsalvatore]

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

i'm back !!! I needed to write a damon one-shot while I work on a new fic and this just tumbled right out of me lol

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: everything??? drinking, swearing, blood sharing, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v, a tiny bit of degradation?? this is self indulgant filth, seriously 18+ mdni

You ran a hand through your hair as you walked back and forth, unsure of what else to do with the restless energy surging through your system as you tried to fight one of your most basic, primal urges… hunger. Your fingers drummed against your thigh as you tried to focus on anything else, find something in your brain worth occupying your mind and switching course from the visuals running through your head. Your recent transition had been a shock to everyone, and Stefan had you on a tight leash to keep you in check… and you’d been on board, at first. You never wanted to cause harm, to be the reason someone else’s life ended, but with the itch in your veins threatening to undo you completely you couldn’t really find it in you to care anymore.

You heard your door push open and your head snapped up to see Damon walking in, two glasses and a bottle in his hand with an unamused expression, “if you don’t knock it off I’m going to have to replace the floor,” he said, setting everything on the dresser before pouring two generous cups of bourbon. 

“Not now, Damon,” you sighed, ignoring him entirely as your feet remained on course.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Not really,” you said as he shoved a glass in your hand, his eyes telling you to drink which you did… all in one gulp and he was a little surprised as he took it to refill. 

“Well, something’s gotta give,” he replied as you finished the second as quickly as the first. “At this rate the bottle will be gone in a minute and I’m not replacing original flooring.” He gripped your shoulders, halting your movements and you huffed, looking up at him.

“I’m hungry, Damon,” you said, as if it pained you to do so and he furrowed his brow.

“The freezer is full- oh,” he cut himself off, realizing that’s not what you meant as a smirk spread across his features. “You want your blood at 98.6,” he said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you.

“Will you cut it out?” You poured another glass, hoping at some point the alcohol would subdue your cravings but you knew that was about as likely as him leaving you alone, so you tried another angle. “I can’t… Damon, the blood bags aren’t doing it for me, I can’t think, I can’t sleep… will you please take me out?” For a moment you thought he’d say yes, revel in the opportunity to feed with abandon with someone else, but it wasn’t that easy.

“No can do, sweetheart,” he replied and your brows pinched. “I’ve got enough on my plate without you losing control and giving me more bodies to deal with.” He was right, there was too much going on and you spinning out wasn’t an option, but that didn’t make it any easier of an answer to tolerate. He gave you a once over, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to take you out… he would have loved to, but you were new and he knew you could eventually get to where he was, one day you’d be able to feed and leave them alive with no memory of what had happened, but that day wasn’t today, you had a long way to go and he couldn’t afford to have you slip up.

But… he couldn’t afford to have you slip up. One look told him you were wound tight, the diet Stefan had you on was restrictive, never enough to fully satisfy, and the less you drank the tighter you spun, threatening a catastrophic snap he could only assume was looming on the horizon with how frustrated you looked right now. He ran through his options, knowing letting you sit in this hunger any longer would result in a much bigger problem, but the only thing he could think of posed another set of issues and would lead to him teetering on the edge instead of you.

He let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and plucking the glass from your hands to discard on the dresser and you looked up at him questioningly, the invasion of space catching you by surprise. His normally bright eyes were dark and swimming with something you couldn’t understand, deep blue pools you found yourself getting lost in as you waited for him to say something. “You need to feed,” he said and your eyes fluttered shut just at the thought.

“I need to feed,” you whispered and he nodded, catching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head back up when you tried to look down and the action had your breath catching somewhere in your throat. 

“You still haven’t felt it, have you?” he asked, voice low and you shuddered. “What it’s like to sink your teeth into something…” you shook your head, Stefan hadn’t allowed you to drink anything that didn’t come from a cup. “Poor thing,” he chuckled, he could feel the tension radiating off you in waves, you were practically shaking beneath him as you fought to retain your grip on your sanity, on your control.

“Damon,” you sighed, eyes pleading and he just smiled as he gripped your hand and brought it up to his neck, the pulse beneath your fingers driving you wild. 

“When you feed you have to be careful… if you bite just along here,” he said, dragging your fingers along the vein, “you can control the flow. It doesn’t have to be messy,” he explained and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the subtle way his skin moved with each beat of his heart, the sight bringing the veins beneath your eyes to the surface, your fangs descending.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, noticing you trying to rein it in, and you were having a hard time focusing on anything with the way his hands were trailing up your arms, pulling you closer. “Go on,” he tilted his head just slightly, “give it a try.” he encouraged and this pulled your focus, eyes snapping to his as you tried to ascertain if he was being serious. You had a lot left to learn, but blood sharing was personal, and you knew that… but all you saw in those dark blue eyes was a fire simmering beneath the surface you were sure was a mirror image of your own.

You slowly reached onto your tiptoes, as if he were a deer in the woods threatening to startle and bolt, but the closer you got the harder it was to resist, anticipation burning through your veins at the prospect of giving in. Your fangs were tentative as they broke the skin just where he’d indicated, but the first drop of blood immediately made you feel dizzy and intoxicated… It wasn't enough. You quickly grew feverish, your hand wrapping around his throat as you surged forward, crashing into the wall behind you and he let out a grunt as his back collided with the hard surface, pinned in place as you fed.

“There you go… that’s it,” he said, leaning back as he relaxed and let you take what you needed. His arm snaked around your waist while a hand brushed the hair from your face, cradling the back of your head as warm blood radiated through your body. A soft groan fell from his lips as you drank from him, and the sound elicited an unexpected reaction from you, your hand tightening around his throat and your body pushing flush against his and despite everything in you telling you to continue, you forced yourself back knowing if you didn’t stop you’d bleed him dry. 

Your eyes were wild and satisfied as they met his, and he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the remnants and you were almost surprised when your lips wrapped around him, ensuring you didn’t waste a single drop. His smirk returned when he felt your tongue slide across his skin, “better?” he asked and you nodded, keeping him in your mouth for maybe a second longer than you needed to. The air was charged between you, you’d just crossed a line in the sand and you wanted to push a little further, go a little farther… 

Part of him knew he should put an end to this… stop before it went any further. He knew it before he’d even offered up a vein for you, he knew as soon as he did he’d be teetering on this ledge and he didn’t have that much self control when it came to you. Perhaps, if he really analyzed the situation, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind why you’d been so worked up, he knew what you needed and instead of letting you wreak havoc on the blood cooler he let you push him against a wall and take what you wanted, he let you feed from him in the most intimate way he could think of. 

And when you were looking up at him like that, eyes mischievous and holding an unspoken challenge with his blood still on your plump lips, who was he to resist? Your chest was heaving with anticipation as you waited for him to do something, anything, and the movement was so fast you almost didn’t register his hand curling around your throat, flipping you around and slamming you against the wall with such force you were sure you’d be dead if you were human. Your gasp of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, searing and frenzied as he connected your lips and kissed you with a hunger that rivaled your own only moments ago. 

You both fought for dominance, neither one of you willing to submit just yet but you were outmatched… he grabbed your wandering hands and pinned them above your head, grip so tight you whined as he kissed down your neck, biting into you the same way you’d done with him and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as he did. Your hips rolled forward and feeling his hardening length against you gave you the surge of confidence you needed to break your hands free, sliding down his chest to pull his shirt apart, buttons flying and clattering against the floor as you pushed the fabric over his shoulders. 

His lips were greedy across the expanse of your chest as he nipped and sucked the soft skin, tearing your shirt to shreds as he pulled it from you, a mess of fabric in your wake as you surged forward and pushed him into the wall opposite you, regaining your upper hand. Glass shattered on the floor around you as the force rattled the dresser but you couldn’t find it in you to care what had broken as your hands pulled his belt free, fingers quickly undoing the button as you sank to the floor and pulled his jeans with you.

His length stood erect in front of you and you were quick to take him in your mouth, focusing your tongue on his swollen tip as your hand worked what didn’t fit, and you couldn’t help but moan around him at the groan that fell from his lips, “such a good girl,” he cooed, his sweet words undercut by the harsh hand in your hair gripping and pulling you closer, forcing you to gag around him and the sensation had his head falling back against the wall. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sharp pain in your scalp and the way he was hitting the back of your throat, but all you could focus on was the throbbing between your thighs and he didn’t miss the way you clenched them together, desperate for friction. 

You were quickly on your back, too caught up in the moment to bother moving to the bed and you pushed glass aside as he settled between your legs, tearing your underwear off and diving in like a man starved and you could feel his smirk against you at your surprised moan, head hitting the floor as your back arched in pleasure. He switched between your clit and your entrance, not giving either attention long enough to give you what you really needed, and you whined as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging harshly.

“Damon, please,” you sighed, hips bucking against his face and he focused his attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue expertly working you up as you shamelessly moaned his name. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew with the way you kept slamming each other against walls and the floor, the breaking glass, and the sounds falling from both your lips someone might come to make sure you were alright, but you couldn’t find it in you to care… not when he felt as good as he did between your legs. 

Your moan changed in pitch when he slid two fingers into your entrance and it went straight to his cock, his head swimming as he watched you come close to falling apart above him. When he crooked his fingers just so your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him closer as you started to grind against him, “fuck, just like-” you were cut off by your own moan when he started massaging that spot inside you, legs trembling as you careened off the ledge. His touches remained merciless as pure euphoria surged through your veins, your head cloudy as your body trembled. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against you, kissing his way up your body and you tugged him closer to reconnect your lips, tongues swirling against each other as you tasted yourself on him. His hands felt greedy and possessive as they roamed over you, gripping tight enough to leave bruises that would heal before they even had a chance to form, and it was as if neither of you could get enough. You pushed forward, tugging him up with you and all but throwing him onto the bed and his smirk was devilish as he watched you crawl on top of him.

He looked like he was about to say something but you didn’t give him the opportunity as you kissed him, rough and demanding as your hips settled above his, hand reaching between you to line him up at your entrance and you both let out groans as you took him inch by inch. The stretch was sweet, filling you almost to your breaking point as you settled fully and started to roll your hips against him, shuddering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned as you started to bounce up and down, setting an unforgiving pace and you felt like you could feel him everywhere, every nerve ending radiating with fire. He sat up to wrap his arms around you, hips bucking to meet yours in a way that had your head rolling back and he took the opportunity to sink his teeth into your neck and you had never felt pleasure like this before. His hand was firm around your throat as your body shook with each thrust and soon you were boneless in his lap, only able to hold yourself upright as he drank you in. 

When he pulled back you licked along his lips, face changing at the taste of blood and he swore he’d never seen anything sexier. Neither of you was going to last much longer, not like this, and he delivered a rough smack to your ass that had you whining and rolling against him. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, letting your forehead fall against his and he smacked again, gripping the tender skin, “Damon-” you tried, but nothing would come out.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he teased, gripping your hair and pulling you back to look at him, “oh, look at you… all cock drunk and fucked out,” he teased and you had nothing to say as a firm thrust had you seeing stars. You buried your face in his neck, fangs sinking into his skin as you felt your release barreling towards you, the mixture of blood and his steady thrusts too much to bear and a streak of red trailed down your body as you came, only able to shout his name as you cried out.

Your grip on him was maddening, pulling him right over the edge with you as you milked him for everything he had, and when you both slowed to a stop you were having a hard time catching your breath, your mind floating somewhere above you as you tried to return to your body. You felt his tongue along your chest, cleaning up your mess as you leaned back and he tried to commit the sight to memory… your hair wild, cheeks flushed, and skin dewy as blood lingered along your skin. 

You still weren’t fully with him, stuck in a haze as you felt him whisk you into his bedroom, and into the bathroom and it wasn’t until you were under the stream of water with him that you hummed contently against his lips as he kissed you softly, “there she is,” he chuckled.

His hands were delicate as they roamed you, and yours slid down the front of his chest as you looked up at him, doe eyed and happy. “That was…” you trailed off, unsure of what word to use to fully sum it up and he placed another soft kiss on your lips.

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” he provided and you laughed as you swatted his chest. 

“Hush,” you replied, feigning annoyance but you didn’t have it in you to feel anything other than bliss. The rest of your shower was spent with wandering hands and sweet kisses, a stark contrast to how rough and domineering you’d been with each other and when he pulled you into bed and wrapped himself around you, you looked up at him as your fingers trailed along his chest absentmindedly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and you flushed slightly under his gaze.

“It was more than I dreamed of,” you answered, and he raised a brow in question. “I haven’t… I hadn’t done that since turning, I didn’t know it could be like that,” you explained and realization passed over his features.

“My god,” he chuckled, “no wonder you were wound so tight.” His hand on your back was comfortable, holding you tight against him as he rubbed soothingly, “we’ll go on a little trip this weekend,” he said as you rested your head on his chest.

“A trip?” 

You felt him nod, “away from all the chaos here… we’ll find you some warm bodies and I’ll teach you how to do it the right way, you don’t have to live a life of blood bags forever.” 

“I don’t know, you seemed to do the trick,” you teased and he laughed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re missing.” 

[florencetypemaniacs]

NSFW

It's the cast's birthday! So the Mc just wraps themself up in ribbons, top it off with a cute bow and wait for their lover to come home!

How would the Ro's react to it?

NSFW ⚠️ Mild

💛 Marcel

Marcel hadn't thought you had anything planned, and while he still liked to remember his birthday, he never got to celebrate it. Now he had you, and that made Marcel feel like he was walking on air. 

So for his birthday, he planned the most relaxing evening with you, a nice homemade meal with the help of Tai, a pint of ice cream for each of you, and a romantic comedy that Marcel had his eye on for a while. 

So when he opened the door to find you lounging on the sofa with a smirk on your face, he almost dropped the bag he was holding. 

"Well, hello, birthday boy." 

Everything clicked into place, and Marcel melted into a puddle of sweet affection, awaiting arousal as he sat beside you, a smile so bright on his face.

"I didn't think you had anything planned." He said, his lips ghosting over your own, and you felt yourself shiver. 

"It's your special day, Marcel." 

Marcel shook his head and kissed you deeply, slowly leaving you breathless before whispering in your ear. 

"Every day is special with you." 

🧡 Margaret 

Margaret loved birthdays. Each one when she was alive made her feel like she was the most special person in the room, and her parents made sure of that. 

The presents were big. 

The decorations hung perfectly.

The sweets that lined the table every year. 

If only she knew that such a glamorous life would be the cause of her death. 

Margaret still acknowledged her birthday, it was a time to share with the people you loved and cared for, but she couldn't find it in herself to have a big party. 

No. All she wanted was you. 

She craved your comfort and affection like a starving man for a hot meal. 

Margaret practically ran up the stairs to your room, to see you. To feel your warmth on an emotionally confusing day only to be met with yourself tied In a pretty pink ribbon that did nothing to hide your naked form. 

Margaret felt her back hit the closed door, and a smug smile crossed your face. 

"Well, hello, birthday girl."

And Margaret was gone, anything that she was going to say left her mind as soon as she saw you.

"What are you doing?" Margaret squeaked out, and you laughed. 

"I thought I would give you your present early. Do you like it?" You twirled around, and Margaret felt like she was going to faint. 

Your girlfriend took a few more deep, long breaths before looking at you with such genuine love that it took you aback. 

"I don't just like it." Margaret kissed you softly and tenderly. "I love it." 

❤️ Owen 

Owen didn't celebrate his birthday. Parties were for the rich, for the lucky when he was alive, and there wasn't much to celebrate anyway. Hell, if his father didn't complain about selling his favorite mule every year to feed the baby he was left with, then Owen would probably never know his birthday. 

Although Owen could feel you had something planned, he didn't know what, but the looks he sent you made the wheels turn in his head. First, he wondered if it was a surprise party, but Margaret didn't give away anything, which wouldn't have been possible if she was given a secret. 

Then there was Marcel, who had to go report back to his Lord, and Owen knew that the sappy bastard wouldn't miss a party for his friend for anything. 

So when Owen opened the door to the bedroom to find you wearing nothing but a flimsy ribbon and a bow awkwardly on your hair, he wasn't that surprised, just giving you a look up and down. 

"Like what you see, birthday boy?" 

"Aye, Lass/Duck/Lad. I like this present very much." Owen said, closing the door behind him with his foot. 

Your boyfriend played with the ribbons, his eyes hungry, and your body began to shake with anticipation. 

"Ye didn't have to go all through this trouble just for me," Owen said with a quiet, gruff tone. 

"Of course I did, Owen. You deserve to have a happy birthday. 

Owen took the bow off your head. "Bloody hell, lass/Duck/lad I never felt happier than with you." 

💙 Rosemary 

Rosemary knew you were up to something. She could read that you had some sort of trick, and knowing that it was her birthday, she had a few ideas of what that could be. 

Her family was poor, so birthdays were about spending time with family, talking, and sharing, Her parents always tried to make them special. 

And while she didn't celebrate her birthday other than with an acknowledgment and a few gifts, she didn't find it that big of a deal. 

That was until she walked into your bedroom to find you in such a seductive state. 

Rosemary smirked as she played with the ribbon. "All tied up for me, handsome/angel face/dollface?" 

You nodded. "I thought it would make your birthday special." 

Rosemary kissed your forehead. "Oh, love, you already make my life special by just being with me, but if you need me to prove it to you." Rosemary gracefully threw the bow to the floor. "I will just have to unwrap you." 

🩵 Tai

Tai sighed as he walked through the door, his eyes drooping when he saw you. 

With just a ribbon and a ridiculous bow on your head, he became wide awake. 

You snickered as your boyfriend's mouth was wide open, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. 

"What are you doing?" His voice came out more like a croaked-out whisper than he meant for it to. 

"Oh, I thought the birthday boy would like to unwrap his present." 

Tai tried to keep his face blank, but he was failing miserably as his face was a bright red. Tai honestly completely forgot that it was his birthday, much less thought you even remembered. Between work and his hellish duties, it completely slipped his mind, and now you were sitting in his office with basically nothing except that shit-eating grin. 

"No need to be so smug," Tai whispered as he closed the door behind him, locking it, then stepped closer to you. 

"Me? Smug? How could I not be when I won." You said, purring in his ear, and Tai breathed in your sweet smell of baked goods. 

Tai's eyes narrowed at your tone. "Won what?" 

You wrapped his arms around Tai's neck and gave him a light kiss. "I got the workaholic doctor to take a night off." 

Tai easily picked you up, which left you gasping in surprise. "Who says what I am going to do isn't work?" 

You played with his tie as he placed you on the examination table, legs apart. "You think of this as a job?" Your tone was teasing. 

Tai got on his knees, kissing your most sensitive skin and letting a moan escape you. 

"You're worth all the time," Tai whispered against your skin. 

💚 Zane 

Zane hated his birthday. First off, he never knew what it was when he was growing up. His teacher thought the idea of birthdays was a childish thing. something that was a distraction. 

Zane wished he hadn't dug deeper, but he had to. To find just a small piece of himself and of his old life, only to find out that the same day he was given life was on the date that his mother's ended. 

Zane hated birthdays. 

So the moment he woke up that morning, he was in an angry mood, as everyone could tell. Zane's crude jokes were lacking, so he couldn't blame you when you disappeared. 

The blonde opened the bedroom door, hoping that you were back from wherever you went to find you naked and lying on the bed, creasing yourself. 

The green ribbon tied around you, covering nothing and still hiding anything in a way that left Zane gripping the door knob. 

"I know you don't like your birthday, so I thought I would make it a little better." Your voice came out shy and sheepish, almost like you didn't know if this was somehow crossing a boundary, even though it involved you naked in his bed, a boundary that didn't exist in Zane's book. You were always welcomed in his bed.  

Zane breathed in and out. He had to remember to breathe, or he would hobble over. 

You were trying to make him feel better. 

You were trying to make him happy. 

That was enough for Zane to tear the ribbon off with his teeth. 

[idontplaytrack]

i need buff reader x janis, who carries janis and places her on her lap when janis doesn’t wanna eat 😫😫

Where else would I be, baby?

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, bad eating habits

In which Janis sometimes gets so busy she doesn’t even think about eating and reader has eventually come up with ways to have her eat something

“Oh, my God.” The second you stepped into the house, you saw Janis out in the backyard, art supplies sprawled all over the floor. You rushed over to her, “Janis. You’re still here?”

“Where else would I be, baby?” She asks, barely glancing at you.

“Have you been sitting here all day?” You crouched down to talk to her, then just sat down.

“I did get up to use the bathroom.” She tells you, eyes completely focused on her art piece.

You raised your brows, perplexed. “Did you eat anything at all?”

“Didn’t you even think about it.” She mutters.

“I’ve been gone six hours, Janis.” You looked at her, horrified.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Because you’ve been here, engrossed in your art.” You sighed, “Come on, let’s go out for dinner.”

“No, I need to get this done.” She says dismissively, “And you just got back from work, so…”

“So, we need to eat.” You stated.

“You go.”

You scoffed, “Janis.”

“y/n.” She mocks.

You exhaled, a little frustrated, “Janis, come on. It’s dinner time and you barely ate anything at breakfast.”

“Yeah, being on a period will do that to ya.” She laughs dryly.

“You know what I’ll do.”

“Try it, I don’t care.” She replies, tongue sticking out slightly between her lips in concentration. “I need to finish this tonight. I’ve been putting this off doing nothing for like two weeks.”

“I’m literally about to pick you up off the floor so you will sit at the table while I make dinner. If I have to spoon feed you so you’ll eat something, I will do it too.”

“Sure.” Janis chuckles. “Please do that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” You nearly snorted, standing up. Easily, you picked her up when she least expected it and walked into the dining area then placed her on the stool by the island.

She sulked, clearly defeated. Janis groans, resting her head on folded arms. “I know you like working on your art, but you gotta remember to take care of yourself, baby.”

“I know, I know.” She sighs softly, “I just forget. If I busy myself with something I don’t even feel hunger, it’s like the last thing on my mind.”

“Which is why I told you…you gotta take a break every now and then, get up and stretch, walk, drink some water, have a snack.” You turned around to face her completely for a moment. “You need to eat to survive.”

Janis sighs, “It’s a bad habit, I’m sorry.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m helping you out with that.” You shrug. There was leftover rice in the fridge from last night so you took that out and opened up a can of Spam, along with the half-used bag of frozen vegetables. All that in a pan, dinner was settled and ready soon enough.

“Are you gonna try to avoid me now that the food’s done?” You eyed her suspiciously. She struggled with it sometimes. She’s never said it, but her actions spoke louder than words.

She doesn’t say anything but sulked and raised her brows. A sigh then falls from her lips as you plated the food. You left your portion in the pan though, literally instructing her to sit in your lap so she couldn’t go anywhere until she’s had her food. You weren’t eating anything until you knew she’s eaten. You’ve had your lunch, she hadn’t. So, you know, she had to eat. You could wait a few minutes more.

But of course, Janis was a little shit sometimes. Refusing to even sit down beside you now. “Ipo.” You exhaled harshly, “It’s like you want me to put you in my lap just so you’ll stay put and eat.”

She grins, “Maybe I do. Be my guest.”

Without a second thought, you grabbed her off her feet, away from the fridge. Closing its door in the process, “That was too easy.”

“Yeah, you’re jacked.” A chuckle falls from her lips.

“Okay, now— eat up.” You handed her the spoon. Janis jokingly groans but still dug into the food. You rested your chin on her shoulder with an arm wrapped around her waist.

“How was work?”

“I smell like popcorn, and I got new blisters. And a customer yelled at me today, so…same old, same old.” You laughed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Ouch.” She turned her head slightly, seething at your revelation. Then, she spots the red bumps on your hand. “That looks…painful.”

“Eh.”

“Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“My head hurts, so I think I’m gonna go take a hot shower afterwards first before I eat.”

“You can go now.” Janis tells you, shoving a spoonful of the fried rice into her mouth.

“I kinda don’t want to.” You said quietly, arm tightening around her waist.

“Hm, why’s that?” She asked, a cheeky smile forming on her face.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose, trying not to chuckle, “I just wanna spend some time with you, is that so bad?”

“Aww.” Janis teases, “Go drink some water. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

“No way. You’ll run away from here and we both know that’s a fact.” You gasped, “You��re my prisoner until you finish this plate.”

“Oh wow.” She replies, bored.

“Excuse me?” She played along, “Janis ‘Imi’ike. Just trying to make sure you stop this unhealthy habit eventually.”

She ends up giggling, “Sorry, baby. I know.” Janis turned to look at you, beaming. You sighed, “You’re so fucking cute, you know that?”

“Oh, I am?”

You pressed a kiss to her cheek, reaching your hand up to squeeze her chin, “Yes. Yes, you are.”

🏷️ Tag list

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭A/N

I’m actually giggling at my screen reading back on this drabble lmao.

[13thedream]

Characters: (Lee) Sunday, (Ler) Kafka

a/n: this is based off of the Idea that Sunday joined the Stellaron Hunters. I have not done the most recent quest yet - only partially proofread, and my first fic, so do not make fun of it, please. But constructive criticism is encouraged

words: 1,5k

Sunday has had a headache all day today, and his eyes felt sore.

It was no doubt the fault of him staying up for most of the night tearfully, but he was sure that these people played a part in it.

They are unfamiliar; they hardly know him and he hardly knows them. And yet, here they are behaving as if he’d always been a part of the “family”. Arms slung over his shoulders, going out to places as well… Aren’t they meant to be an elite group, the feared and despised Stellaron Hunters? No doubt powerful, and yet, they had so much time on their hands to still be silly.

It is safe to say he is not used to such treatment. Relaxing, sitting back and doing nothing, having fun - yet he is neither relaxed or having fun. The thought of his sister laid heavy in his mind - the way she looked so tired on the television, and it tugged at his big brother instincts to sometimes see her wings not preened.

Sunday sighed quietly, his face buried in gloved hands as he leaned back against the sofa he sat on. He regrets now not bringing any of his books, or his journal; then again, he had to leave in such a rush, there simply was no time.

A tiny breeze fluttered the feathers of his left wing, and it twitched. He ignored it, groaning as he burdened himself with thoughts of his sister. What if she’s not feeding herself properly? What if she’s spending her nights crying?

Another breeze, another twitch.

Maybe she hates him. No- Robin would never, yet he found himself wishing she would. He hates himself so much, and he’s just pulling her down with him.

“...day.. Sunday.-” Something delicately traced down his wing, and Sunday would forever deny the startled, squeaky “eep!” He had let out. He whipped around, golden eyes wide, meeting the even and somewhat curious gaze of Kafka.

She was smirking; he felt his cheeks heat up at his own embarrassing reaction - and his damned wings were now curling around his cheeks too, as if he were some shy child hiding his face.

Clearing his throat, Sunday spoke, “..Good afternoon, Miss Kafka,” A polite greeting, choosing to move past what had just happened.

“Hey, angel,” she replied, that stupid smirk never leaving, and he felt his skin prick from the nickname. Angel? Audacious to call him anything other than his own name - yet, he held no power here, so he may as well accept it.

Kafka continued to speak casually, “I’ve been calling your name for a while. D’you wanna have dinner with us later?”

Sunday huffed quietly at the thought alone. Dinner with that barbaric swordsman, the moving suit of armor, a literal cat, and the girl who can’t put her phone down? Forget it. The most normally behaving person there would be Kafka, and that’s saying a lot.

“No.” Sunday grumbled, before clearing his throat once more and fixing himself, “...No, thank you. I will get my own.”

Kafka merely shrugged one shoulder, propping up her face on a hand as she observed him. When had she sat down beside him? Sunday met her gaze for a couple of seconds before glancing away, feathers puffing up. What does she still want?

“No problem. You seem tense,” the woman commented offhandedly, and he looked back out of politeness.

“How could I not be?” Sunday replied, tone cool and curt. Kafka shrugged again, raising one eyebrow as she observed him a moment longer.

“Fair point. But no one’s coming after you here, y’know?” She pointed out, and he huffed; of course he knew that. They’re in the middle of Xipe-Knows-What, in Xipe-Knows-Where.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m more worried about the company here than anybody looking for me.” Sunday watched reproachfully as Kafka’s expression turned into one of amusement, as well as a mischievousness which had him tensing up further.

“Ah? How come? We’re a loving family here.” She replied, and they could both tell that she was just messing around now. They both knew why.

Sunday sighed, “Well, I don’t feel the slightest bit safe with that swordsman - constantly looking as though he'd strike me down if he had the chance. And that girl is a nuisance. It feels as though her entire personality is just, “Games this,” And “Hacking that,”.” He snorted out - and he felt himself lighten a bit at Kafka’s huffed out laugh.

“...Sam is most likely the most tolerable person,” Her smirk never left for the entire conversation - does this woman even know any other facial expressions..?

“And you are… Hm.” She looked even more smug than usual for a moment at his hesitance, and he grumbled out, “..Mysterious, I suppose. I dislike how unpredictable you get.”

Kafka was silent for a good long moment, just staring at him, before she chuckled, “Might I remind you, Birdie, that you are not so normal for yourself.”

She reached out again, while he was looking elsewhere, and dragged a finger down one of his wings lazily.

Sunday yelped.

His wing flapped, and he whipped around to face her again, cheeks on fire. “Would you please stop that?” He politely snapped, eyebrows furrowing.

She observed, he shifted, trying to cool down his cheeks.

“You’re ticklish,” Kafka finally mused out, tone thoughtful. Sunday sputtered, cheeks ablaze, a huge difference from his usually stoic, cool demeanor.

“What? No. What-? I was just caught of guard.” He replied, shifting away from her on the sofa. Perhaps he should try to respectfully make his leave-

“You laughed a little bit,” Kafka hummed, her eyes narrowing, a nearly predatory look behind them.

“I did not,” Sunday denied, frowning.

“You did.” Kafka’s already smirking lips began curving upwards even further.

“I am not ticklish. Where did you even get that from? Your claim makes little to no se–”

“Alright. Let’s prove it.” Kafka said, and before his brain could even process her words, two hands were firmly gripping his sides, fingertips digging into the flesh.

Sunday let out a surprised, “Aah-ha!” Falling back onto the sofa and attempting to squirm away. It did not tickle so terribly - yet single nerve felt as though it was on fire, and his embarrassment worsened with every little squeak which escaped his lips. He hated his laugh, and he was now sure he hated this damned woman, and her damned smirk, and her damned hands.

“Wait- Wait! Wahahait!” He cursed himself, giggles slipping into his words. His body was jumping, hands reaching down to try and push her’s away, but to no avail. She easily dodged all of his attempts, hands squishing at the sides of his stomach now, only worsening the sensations.

“Gah! Ahahaa! Wahait!” Kafka was smirking, watching the usually uptight Halovian fall apart just from a few touches. His body spasmed when she got closer to his belly, and she chuckled.

“So much for not ticklish, hm?” She hummed out, that predatory glint still in her eyes. He was blushing hard, his laugh a bit awkward - probably from not being genuinely used in so long - and his smaller pair of wings were busy trying to cover up his face.

What an adorable sight.

Her hands teased his belly for a few moments longer, before lowering down on it. Sunday squealed, blushing a dark red now as he lowered his hands to block his sensitive stomach, panting. He heard Kafka click her tongue.

“K-Kafka, thahat’s–!” Suddenly, her hands were in his underarms, those horrid nails scratching at the exposed skin.

“AAah! Kahafka!” He cried out loudly, tone becoming more and more high pitched the longer this went on. His arms slammed down, trying to fruitlessly guard his vulnerable underarms, but that just pushed her hands in deeper, digging into the centers.

His wings were quivering, both sets, and he bucked up wildly. His hair was becoming a mess and his clothing ruffled. Mirthful tears sprung up in his eyes, threatening to fall down his red cheeks, and his chest heaved.

Kafka scratched in his underarms a moment longer before removing her hands altogether, recognizing his limit. She was still smirking, and he breathlessly glared at her.

“...Ruhude.” He panted out, titters still escaping every here and there.

Kafka only smirked, “You had many chances to say stop. You didn’t.”

His cheeks lit up again - Great Xipe, he’d never get over this embarrassment. What’s worse is that she is absolutely correct.

Sitting up, Sunday muttered a quick, “Be quiet..” as he tried to smooth down his clothes. He felt much lighter now, he realized. Not so tense anymore - yet despite that, he still glared at Kafka before moving off of the sofa.

Well. Now he has to go hide in the bathroom for a couple of hours. And possibly die from the embarrassment.

“Excuse me,” he grunted out, and hid his tiny smile in his wing as he left. Kafka replied casually, as if she hadn’t just tickled him senseless, “Seeya.”

Weird - his headache is gone too.

[nexttothelamp]

...

[smile-files]

as a jew, seeing what all of these israeli leaders have said is sickening. as a jew, anti-palestinian rhetoric is sickening. as a jew, zionism is sickening.

how dare my people -- a people who've been massacred, ethnically cleansed, dehumanized, forcibly removed, and discriminated on religious grounds for their entire existence -- do the same to another people? how dare we turn our backs on them, when they suffer like we have?

i understand that so much of us have been fed zionist propaganda our entire lives; the same happened to me. i understand the desire for a homeland where we don't have to fear antisemitism at every turn; i want that too. but it doesn't take much thought to understand that a homeland for us, which actively oppresses and kills another people, is antithetical to what we want.

if you, as a member of an oppressed group, believe that your freedom and safety can only exist when you oppress another group, you are acting no better than the people who oppressed you. such a belief is horrible, and cynical, and wrong.

as a jew, i want jewish people to be happy and safe and connected to our heritage; as a jew, i also want other peoples to be happy and safe and connected to their heritage.

don't call the palestinians "amalek". you are turning us into amalek.

doesn't the torah tell us to have empathy for those beaten down by the world? doesn't the torah tell us to make the world a better place? doesn't the torah tell us to free people of their shackles and help them escape oppression?

i have so many israeli aunts and uncles and cousins; i fear for their safety. of course, my parents do as well. i'm worried that this fear, in addition to anything they were led to believe earlier in life, is placing my parents even deeper in the zionist camp. but it doesn't have to be this way! my relatives' safety does not rely on the continued oppression of gaza!

it is easy to be uninformed, to be swayed by propaganda, to blindly hope that israel was founded in good faith -- but we can't lie to ourselves. a world steeped in senseless hatred (which we are now promoting!) could never be a home for us. none of us are free, liberated, equal, until all of us are.

as a jew, to other jews, i implore that we stand with our palestinian siblings. i want us all to be happy and safe. i want us all to live in harmony -- in the holy land and around the world. that is what we all deserve. <3

[girlfox]

━

[chloeseyeliner]

(there's ranting. you've been warned.)

um... happy monday to the young royals fandom/edvin's fans in general.

(via edvin's instagram stories)

he is... he is twenty years old. good grief.

(i won't comment on anything regarding his physical appearance on this post, even if everything i'd say would be very, very positive, due to the fact that, although he's never going to come across this, it would still go against his wishes.)

can we just please, please leave people alone? this behaviour... it's not healthy, for anyone involved.

generally speaking, we live in a society where beauty standards are, unfortunately, an inextricable part of some people's lives. these same people believe they can force their own standards, "inspired" by a million different factors surrounding all of us every day (family, school, friends, the environment we grow up in etc etc), to other people, the "trend" (if i can call it such) especially targeting complete strangers, mainly on the internet.

and yes, that includes celebrities, too. famous people, if you prefer this term better. artists. whatever they want to be and are- most of us have been there to not know a day where these people's rights on their personal lives and choices and clothes and pets or whatever a paparazzi or a fan is going to decide does not fit their standards of the day have not been infringed on.

because, believe it or not (and i am NOT refering to the wonderful, respecting, brilliant, supporting majority of fans, at least in this specific fandom), your favourite actor is not your friend. even if the comments on their appearance, for example, like in edvin's case, are written in a playful, sarcastic tone, this cannot be understood through text on a screen- another problem of our society's current state; harmful words you write on a screen, whatever the intention is, do not just stay there, floating around. you aren't trying to communicate with your notes app. a person is reading them, even though you may think they will never reach them, because, for instance, of their huge audience. and it can (excuse me for my language) fuck them up the same way it would fuck someone (e.g. at school or at work) up to say the same harsh words- again, even if you don't correctly estimate the power they can hold- to their face.

so, again, as i have written and reblogged posts in the past regarding similar issues in this specific fandom,, which i love so so dearly, my intention is not to play the part of the "angelic fan" or whichever label might fit the text.

my intention is to maybe, just maybe, reach someone out there who will change their way of thinking; who will have second thoughts when writing a comment about a mustache (for god's sake); who will gain a little grain of empathy towards a fellow global citizen of theirs; who will try to cease some of the "madness"... before a person whose only intention was to make their dreams come true by entering the, in this case, film industry feels obliged to address the issue via a platform on the internet, as if not commenting on his looks etc is not the sensible thing to do... before this attitude turns to bullying for real. if it hasn't already.

that's all i had to say. i am apologising for the length of the post or any mistakes, since english is not my first language and i am quite mad and disappointed, maybe little hurt actually, especially as someone who has been struggling with their physical appearance and comments on it since i was literally a child.

i cannot imagine dealing with that plus being famous and having people judging you all the time. jesus. i really hope edvin has his support system near him and that he will be alright. <3

[cerbreus]

boutta start ordering rocks online again just to feel alive

[quietwingsinthesky]

funniest thing about even is that if ten had taken them to a pride parade, because of their whole. Everything. they would have no idea what is being celebrated or why. but they would be so happy to be included

[cinnamon-phrog]

Had a Barbie Moment [realising how beautiful life is while sitting on a public bench]

[dragpinkman]

eeby

just found out my dad used to not feed us as toddlers because "we didnt sound hungry" and my mom had to quit her job to stay home with us midday because she called my dad to check on us and he hadnt fed us babies and we were sitting on the driveway while he worked on his car and drove fast up and down the street testing it..

[gender-euphowrya]

how do youtube recommendations even fucking work this algorithm is busted

[tofixtheshadows]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.