please come here and let me eat you up

anonymous asked:

Fluff: Harry insisting that he makes you something to eat (French toast or an omelette) when you're staying the night as his even though it's 2 am because he here's your tummy growling while trying to sleep

“Harry oh my god it’s fine, please.”

“You’re hungry. M'not letting you go hungry on my watch.”

“Just come cuddle me and sleep. I’ll eat tomorrow morning.”

“Nuh-uh. Let me at least get you a glass of milk or something.”

“……….fine.”

And when he comes back five minutes later, he has milk and toast because, “You’re gonna eat, bug. Y'have to. I don’t want your tummy keepin’ me up.” With a smirk and a kiss to your head.

AU meet-cute where Steve sees Sam at his local rare/used bookstore all the time, and he’s crushing sooOoooOooOoo hard

And one day, he’s not sure what spurs his temporary lapse in judgement, but one second he’s desperately trying to summon the nerve to talk to the cute guy, and the next second he sees himself in slow-mo knocking Sam’s coffee off his table- 

The next five minutes are spent apologizing profusely and helping mop up the spill with piles of napkins while Sam assures him it’s fine–

“I’m so sorry, let me buy you a new one, honestly it’s the least I can do–”

And so Steve orders two coffees, and while they’re waiting he asks Sam about the book he’s reading; if he comes here a lot; if he’s eaten yet… 

And Steve gets a big sandwich which of course he makes a show of it being “Wayyyy too big for me to eat the whole thing, MAN my eyes were bigger than my stomach, do you want half?”

And that’s how Steve snagged his first date with Sam 

I said there’d be no more thinking about you,
but now the sun has set and all that’s coming to mind
is you and I eating vegetables with our hands, 
letting the juices run down our wrists.
Something about animal instinct flashes into my head
as I picture all the ways I want to devour you.

I promised there would be no more caring for you
once I realised that you do not care for me
in quite the same way. If at all.
But that’s not how I have been brought up.
I’ve grown with a heart like a fruit platter:
Here, there is so much, please take your share.
Knowing that I made you smile is worth so much more
than having any pieces leftover for myself.

I swore to myself, and anyone else who would listen,
I would not write any more poems about you.
You do not deserve them. You will never read them.
But there’s a reason men always go for women like their mothers.
There’s a reason why people always go back to their native tongue,
no matter how many languages they are fluent in.
We’re only human, the sense of familiarity is so precious to us,
but it makes me feel weak. You make me feel weak.

—  please, no more poems about you | I.S.