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theorist-fox · 2 months ago

Text

Bug

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish

Crossposted on AO3

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Johnny eats you out in front of an audience.

18+

CW: smut (cunnilingus, masturbation, some sexual fantasizing, brief dubcon turning into enthusiastic consent), a bit kinky (voyeurism, exhibitionism) fluffy? sort of, pwp. Soap/Reader established relationship + Simon joining the party I guess

Masterlist 🦊

Your toes are cold. So cold that you think your body might never recover, that maybe you’re bound to be a corpse for the rest of your life.

Dramatic, you’re aware.

And Johnny is so delightfully there, isn’t he? On his side of the bed, in a deep slumber. He’s a heavy sleeper too, so you’re sure you could start sighing and coughing in subtle discomfort and he wouldn’t budge.

You know his senses are perked when he’s on duty, and you’re glad to know he feels safe enough in the four walls of your home that he turns those alarm bells off.

But goddamnit, now would be a fantastic time to cuddle up. Wonderful to have those thick arms wrapped around your shoulders, his chest to your back. Pressed tight, until the coarse hairs on his abdomen would start to tickle and then scratch a little.

Clicked in place like two puzzle pieces, you’d be, with his knees tucked in the folds of yours, and your ass snug perfectly into his crotch.

And then you’d start rolling your hips slightly. You’d crane your neck back to meet his face, and you know he’d nuzzle your nape for all it’s worth. Sniffing the shampoo in your hair, burying his face until his nose would meet your skin.

His kisses would be unhurried but open, slow but voracious. They’d make goosebumps sprout from your neck to your thighs, and you’d drench your knickers in the blink of an eye.

By then, his cock would have grown hard against the swell of your ass.

He’d hook his thumbs at the waistband of your pants. Slide his cock through your folds, already wet but now they’d be even more soaked with his prec—

Great.

Now you’re horny. Horny and freezing and frustrated.

Unable to sleep because you’re cold and Johnny forgot to call the plumber for the heating—leaky radiators, a boiler that's been fussing for the past couple of days. Not even taking a shower is safe anymore, for fuck's sake.

Unable to sleep because you’re dreaming about your boyfriend fucking you into the mattress. Fucking the ice cold seeping into your bones right out of your body, melting it into delicious sweat.

Alas, unable to fuck, because his mate is sleeping on the sofa, and the walls of this stupid flat are thin.

"He’s got mold in his flat", Johnny had told you. "Give it a few days and he’ll go back."

Not.

It’s been three weeks, and Johnny's lieutenant still hasn’t left. Actually, you think he might’ve moved in altogether,because you’re starting to have less and less space in your closet, and Johnny's socks are mixing up with Simon’s.

But you’d bend and break for your boyfriend, and by extension for whoever he cares about—including his fucking lieutenant. Spooky geezer. Walks quietly around the house and scares the living shite out of you when he materializes in the darkest corners of the room.

It’s not that you hate him. You tolerate him—or, okay, you like him. You would like him even more if it weren’t for the predicament he’s inadvertently stuck you in.

He is a fun addition to the household and has wonderful chemistry with Johnny. Stores a sharp wit and a repertoire of horrible jokes that somehow make you laugh. He’s clean, buys groceries, cooks meals when you and Johnny aren’t home—he’s a decent flatmate, after all.

But still.

You want to fuck your boyfriend.

“Johnny,” you whisper, turning under the bedsheets to face his way.

Even in the darkness shrouding the room, you can spot his silhouette.

It takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but when you do, you can finally make out the lines of his face.

He’s sleeping soundly, like nothing can wake him even if it tried. His lips are slightly parted, a habit that comes hand in hand with the crook of his nose—a curve that makes it a bit harder for him to breathe.

You don’t want to be the one who interrupts what looks like a dreamless rest, but it is his fault if the flat feels like you’re sleeping on a slab of ice.

You scoot closer. The tips of your noses touch.

“Johnny,” you whisper again. “Baby, can you wake up?”

Nothing. He doesn’t even flinch.

You kiss him. A swift peck.

“Baaaaby,” you singsong to his lips, quiet yet cheeky.

It’s then that Johnny finally grumbles something. You quickly agitate a victorious fist under the covers.

“I need you to warm me up,” you tell him. “Because I’m too cold and I can’t sleep and it’s your fault.”

There. Evil. Digging your thumb into the guilt wound you’ve carved into his very soft heart.

Johnny’s eyes flutter open. It takes him a while to adjust. A smack of his lips to hydrate his tongue, the heel of his hand digging into one closed eye. When he comes to, and finally connects the dots, you hear him snort.

“Unbelievable,” he murmurs. “Could’ve grabbed 'nother blanket.”

You frown.

“But you’re warmer than a blanket,” you retort dramatically. “And to get one I’d have to leave the bed, go wander helplessly into the cold, look for it in the da—”

He groans and slaps his arms around you until your face is plastered to his chest.

You press the very cold tip of your nose into the warm skin on his sternum. He flinches.

“Fuckin’ Christ, hen,” Johnny rumbles. “Ye weren't talkin' shite, aye? Proper icicle.”

You giggle. He shushes you as his chest rumbles with a quiet chuckle of his own.

He thinks it's over, then. Thinks he’s done with it now that you’re cuddled up in his arms, and closes his eyes.

But sneaky little you leaves kisses on his chest. The cheeky thing that you are, you press your thigh against his crotch, where he’s half-hard already—but that’s just because of men’s weird physiology, not because he’s horny.

He hums. “Not now, love.”

“Please,” you say, lips dancing about his chest until you reach his nipple.

You tentatively lick there. Johnny hisses and you triumph.

“Please, it’s been so long,” you plead. You purse your lips and suck so gently that Johnny’s hips thrust forward in a twitch, rutting against your thigh.

“He’ll hear us, hen.” He warns, but his voice cracks and you know that you’ve won.

Simon can handle a few moans just fine, you reckon. He’s old enough.

“Let him,” you mumble to Johnny’s skin. “I don’t care, I miss you.”

You feel his hand reach to the back of your head. Gently, his fingers thread through your hair, massaging softly at your scalp until you’re a puddle in his hold.

“Aye? Ye don’t care, eh?”

His eyes roam your face. Hooded, already heavy with lust, but a tad more balanced—managing to rein it in, unlike you.

“No.” You insist. “He can fucking watch for all I care.”

Your tongue darts forward, and you lick a stripe bisecting his lips.

Johnny fucking loses it.

His hand slides to your nape and holds firmly, enough so he can crash his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You sigh contently in it, no matter how hungry it is—to you this is the most awaited moment in weeks.

Your hands are as frantic as his own. You tug at his pants as he tugs at your shirt.

Johnny is very tactile, and you just know he wants to touch you thoroughly before he gives you the blessing of a fuck.

In fact, the first thing he does is flatten his palm on your sternum to guide you on your back. His mouth nips and tugs at your lips, then at your jaw. He finds that softer spot on your neck and sucks lovebites on it.

You moan like a slut, without a care in the world. Simon be damned. The neighbors be damned, too.

Johnny's lips finally wrap around your nipple, while his hand plays with your other breast.

You get louder, and it's a clear sign for that man on the other side of the wall to go and pop in some earbuds because you’re not shutting up tonight.

“You’ve never been this loud I swear to Christ,” Johnny says with a hint of a chuckle that gets lost in your skin. “S’like yer doin’ it on purpose.”

He pinches your belly. “Are you?”

You look down at him. Eyes narrowed. Smirk barely hidden. “No?”

But he can see right through you like you’re made of glass.

“You like it, eh?” He says with a hint of surprise, like he’s discovered a goddamn goldmine. “Oh, you fuckin’ like it.”

And what if you do? What if there's a thrill in knowing the man in the other room might hear you getting railed the way you deserve? Are you deranged for it?

Probably.

But fuck it.

Johnny’s mouth travels lower, from your breasts to the hollow between your ribs, until he’s fully hidden under the covers.

Instinctively, your fingers thread through his hair. Tight.

Oh, he’s gonna eat you out.

It’s much easier to quiet down when you’re having sex, because Johnny’s a kisser and he always keeps your mouth busy. But he knows you’re not exactly prim and proper when he makes you cum on his tongue.

He knows what he’s doing, and it’s then that a lightbulb flickers on in your head.

Bright, excited.

Johnny likes it too.

And you love that he does.

So, since he’s as into this as you are, you settle on giving him the show of a lifetime.

It takes Johnny very little to get to the gist of it. He’d usually nose at your clit through the cotton of your panties, bite at the flesh of your thighs to tease you and get you wet. There’s no need for it this time—your knickers are already past the point of salvation.

He pulls them down and off, not sparing an inch of your skin from the hungry onslaught of lips. Legs draped comfortably over his shoulder, the soft fat of your thighs cushioning his ears.

Johnny dives in.

Your groan scratches your throat when the flat of his tongue lands on your clit. Tingles ripple from your sex to your head—some electric shockwave that makes your toes curl and your throat tight.

You collapse onto the pillow, and you let go.

Johnny licks fat stripes or twirls his tongue around your clit, sucking it in at times. You moan and whimper like cameras are pointing your way, like you want the man who’s stolen your couch, your privacy and your sex life to know how good Johnny’s making you feel.

Your eyes are closed but your mouth is open, fingers curled in a fistful of his hair.

It’s then that you start riding Johnny’s face. He stays perfectly still, tongue out and conveniently flattened against your sex for you to grind against it.

It’s been so long since you felt him pant against your cunt, so long since you’ve had him tucked between your thighs until your hamstrings ache.

So long that you think you might cum already, and you’re not even five minutes in.

And you feel it in your stomach first, taut and clenching. You feel your orgasm grow as Johnny allows you to take it from him, handing you the reins of your own pleasure.

“M’gonna cum,” you breathe.

The only way you know that he’s heard you from beneath the duvet is because a muted groan echoes from somewhere below you, and his fingers tighten around your hips.

“Gonna fuck her after this, Johnny?”

Your orgasm withers, but not as much as your heart.

You jolt away from your boyfriend even though you're suddenly petrified, scrambling in an attempt to pull away from his tongue.

But he doesn’t let you go—no.

Johnny, the bastard, holds you with a resolve you’ve never witnessed before, and uses one hand to quickly shove the duvet off both your bodies.

Cold air slaps your bare skin. Gooseflesh rises at the first icy touch, nipples perked and hard. Your eyes automatically follow the voice in the dark, until they land on a shadow lingering at the door—broad shoulders filling the entryway of your bedroom.

As soon as your vision adjusts, you focus better on it. A pale face stands out on top of a body clad in charcoal black. A hand, you see, palms at the crotch of his sweatpants.

“Johnny—” You say, or try, in between pants.

His eyes finally poke from between your legs. Swiftly, his fingers take the place of his tongue, rolling more languid circles on the knot of clit—throbbing as your orgasm is rudely snatched away.

You whine at both the loss of his mouth and the discomfort of being watched.

And yet why aren’t you trying to cover yourself? Why are you still there, naked, back arched to press further into Johnny’s hand, with your fingers uselessly grasping the sheets at your sides?

“Let him watch, bonnie. You said it yerself, aye?” Johnny coos softly.

He can fucking watch for all I care.

Fuck. You. And your big mouth.

He presses kisses along the stretch marks of your thighs. “Bet he’s not seen a beauty like ye since Christ was born.”

“Cut it out, MacTavish,” Simon barks from the dark corner he's carved for himself.

In response, Johnny’s breathy chuckle hits your skin.

And while your vision might be compromised, your hearing isn’t. You can clearly hear the soft thud of socks against the hardwood floor. You can definitely feel him looming next to the bed.

You have to blink furiously when Simon turns on the nightlamp, bathing your body in yellow light.

His eyes, darker than Johnny’s, take you in as you writhe under your boyfriend’s skilled fingers.

You sigh helplessly. “Fuck.”

Perhaps this is too much. Perhaps you’re not ready. And yet—

Simon’s hand grabs a handful of his cock through his sweatpants. You can see the outline of it, fat and straining against the grip of his fingers. A sight so delicious it makes your mouth water.

Your boyfriend catches on the exchange of looks. The way your eyes drop to his lieutenant’s cock. His fingers slow down—and as enraptured as you are, you don’t notice the smile that blooms on his cheeks.

“What d’you want him to do, hen?” Johnny pitches in, finally diluting the soupy mess of your thoughts to reveal what this truly is.

A spotlight on you.

Both men are starving to see, touch, taste. This is heaven, even for an introvert such as yourself.

Small bug on the wall, observing—for once, observed.

Suddenly, you want that. You want to see them both kneel for you and study your body to learn how to keep it warm, sated, happy.

“Touch yourself,” you whisper before you can think.

Warmth licks at your neck when your own voice reaches your ears.

You swivel your eyes to Johnny again, who’s looking at you with a dangerous glint in his eye—enjoying every bump on your body that rises from the cold, every shiver his fingers cause to wreck your spine.

“You heard her LT,” Johnny says at length.

And before you can utter a word, his mouth returns on you.

Your voice breaks into a moan, eyes rolled back. There’s an insistent fizz in your ears, like there are suds stuck in there.

Simon’s “Yes ma’am” barely makes it through.

Slow blinking yourself back to reality, you manage to focus on Simon’s hand which is now stroking his bare cock. Tip a furious red, glossy with precum he smears down his length.

Fuck, you’d pay good fucking money to have it on your tongue, but you’re not in the right headspace yet. You find yourself content with the idea that he’s that hard and that leaking just because you look that hot to his eyes.

Perhaps this is a first step. And it's okay.

It’s invigorating. You love it to bits. So much so that, once again, you hear yourself say “Touch me.”

Johnny’s chuckle vibrates against your clit, but he doesn’t stop. He palms at your lower stomach as he eats you out, keeping you still and comfortable, until you feel your thighs tremble.

The mattress dips under Simon’s weight when he comes to kneel right beside you. The anticipation might kill you, and you’re so focused on him that you don’t realize how impending your orgasm is.

A big hand comes to touch your lips. Simon fits two fingers into your inviting mouth, and you don’t fight it when he touches the back of your throat.

Instead, you moan at his praise of “Good girl” slipping hoarsely past his lips.

He pulls them out and uses your own spit to lubricate the head of his cock. His cheeks glow red, mouth parted to catch his breath—you never thought a man as apparently indifferent as him could look so delightfully affected.

All because you took his fingers in your mouth like a champ.

You almost cum there and then.

His other hand comes to thumb your nipple. He pinches it, toys with it. He cups your breast in his big hand and squeezes softly just to feel the softness of it.

He rises upwards, then. Curls those same fingers at the base of your throat in a grip that progressively tightens, until he can hear your breath get stuck in your throat.

It’s then that you cum.

With the sound of Johnny’s mouth sucking at your clit. With the wet noises of Simon’s cock being tugged in rapid strokes, as if he’s forcing himself to cum earlier than intended.

Your orgasm is so strong that your mind blanks for a moment, not registering the way your voice breaks as you catch your breath again.

Not registering when sudden wetness paints your tits and puddles at your stomach, followed by a groan so loud that it breaks through the fog in your brain.

When you come to, you blink at the ceiling.

Your heart pounds viciously, so much that you can feel it on your tongue. It’s wonderful and it would be embarrassing, your current position, if it weren’t for Johnny’s face coming into view.

His lips land fondly on the tip of your nose. “Yer gorgeous when you cum.”

And you smile.

It broadens when another voice joins in, lower and panting, “Affirm. Fuckin’ lovely.”

As you reach down between your and Johnny's bodies with a trembling hand, if only to return the favor, he gently swats it away. However, your fingers make it just in time to feel his softening cock, how wet it is at the tip.

You bet there's a twinning stain on the sheets, too.

“Wee bit at a time, aye?” He offers, kissing your cheek.

You don’t dare to rebut, as spent as you are. Instead, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

Your eyes blink closed.

"Did you cum?" You ask dumbly.

"'Course I did." Johnny nibbles at your lip. "Ye taste like fuckin' heaven."

You giggle, obviously flattered, though it sounds quite weak, sleep already taking over your brain.

"You could've fucked me," you tease.

"Nah," Johnny replies, leaving a fat kiss on your mouth. "Woulda killed Simon to see ye—"

"That'll do, Johnny," Simon cuts in.

He doesn't sound angry—more exasperated than anything. He's still panting, though.

You crack one eye open and find him unabashedly staring at his cum dripping down the valley of your breasts.

His hand lands on your forehead, then, brushing back the hair that has stuck to it. It's awkward, like he's not sure what to do but still wants to check in on your well-being.

Through the fog of pure ecstasy, you think he wants to feel somewhat included. Which is why you reach out, your fingers searching blindly for somewhere to land. You find his thigh, the soft fabric of his sweats, and squeeze.

He tenses beneath your palm, but the muscles relax soon afterwards. Welcoming the touch—perhaps welcoming you altogether.

"Tired, aye?" Simon whispers, sounding uncharacteristically tender.

"Yeah," you reply wearily, though his was more of a rhetorical question.

You're too fucked out to realize it. Or to care about realizing it at all.

The comfortable silence that has settled in the room is broken by the shuffle of sheets. The creek of the mattress.

Simon disappears beyond the threshold of the room, only to return moments later with a warm towel in hand.

You get cleaned and pampered, dressed back into your comfy pjs. Sandwiched, at some point, by four arms instead of two, six legs intertwined instead of four.

Your toes are still cold, but the rest of you isn’t.

And you think it can't get any better than this, as you fall back asleep.

Written for February writing challenge, to fill the prompt "Ghoap x Reader body heat trope"

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whateveriwant · 1 year ago

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The 141 getting you to stay in bed

It gets a little spicy towards the end so 18+ please

Soap

Waking up to the feeling of a numb arm is extremely unpleasant, but you suppose it comes with the territory when trying to cuddle 200+ pounds of rugged Scotsman

You manage to free your trapped limb and roll to the other side of the bed, but that space behind you remains empty for only about three seconds before Johnny's pressing himself flat to your back

Now with his arms around your waist, he holds you tight to him, mumbling unintelligibly against the back of your head

He drifts back to sleep quickly enough, his grip on you starting to loosen, only for it to tighten again when he feels you try to wriggle out of his hold

The incoherent grumbles from his throat grow increasingly displeased the more you try to shift away from him, until finally he huffs a grumpy, “Quit it,” into your scalp, hooking his leg over yours

If you still don't listen, he'll have no choice but to take drastic measures to keep you still. Fed up with your squirming, he simply rolls on top of you, pinning you to the mattress below him

You can try beating on his back, telling him that you can't breathe, but he just shrugs and says, “Use my breath.”

Don't even bother trying to explain how oxygen doesn't work like that, because he doesn't care. “Tough,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck. “‘Cause I'm no' movin’.” And by extension, neither are you

Gaz

Kyle is also a stage 5 clinger, but he's less boa constrictor and more baby koala

So when your alarm goes off at 8am precisely, it's no surprise that the man behind you grumbles in protest

“It's Saturday,” he bemoans. “Why you getting up so bloody early?” When you tell him you like to keep your routine even on the weekends, he just groans and mutters, “Five more minutes.”

You can try to squirm and wrestle out of his hold, but he'll just tighten his arm around your midsection, keeping his front firmly glued to your back

But you need to get up! You have to pee for goodness’ sake!

“Use the empty bottle on your nightstand,” he mumbles into your hair, peeking an eye open as you crane to look back at him. The look you give him at such a horrid suggestion has him sighing. “Alright, fine,” he relents and releases you. “But be quick. Bed gets cold without you.”

Once you've answered the call of nature, don't be surprised to find Kyle waiting for you directly outside the bathroom. He's wrapped up in your comforter like an oversized burrito, only his face and feet visible as they peek out from under the plush cover

With a sleepy pout, he holds his hand out for you, tugging you back to bed with him. Oh, he’ll make sure you get those five more minutes alright. Even if he has to drag you kicking and screaming

Ghost

First of all, don't even kid yourself into thinking you'll stand a chance of waking up before him or sneaking out of bed without him knowing. This man is the epitome of a light sleeper, whenever he does sleep, that is

So when you do finally wake up, it comes as no surprise to see Simon already up too. But just because you're both awake now doesn't mean you have to immediately be productive; quite the opposite, in fact

With how busy and stressed he is all the time, Simon loves nothing more than to just lie in bed with you and do nothing for hours

If you try to get up, he's stopping you with a gentle hand on your wrist, his voice quiet but firm as he commands, “Stay.”

You'll lay back down for a bit to appease him, but it won't be long before you feel guilty since you have so many things you should be doing instead

But actually, no, you don't have anything to worry about. He's already taken care of everything before you woke up, he humbly informs you

The cat's been fed, the bin’s been taken out to the curb, he's even gotten your breakfast typed up on his phone – just give him the word and he'll place the order

So now when he opens his arms for you, having you bury your face in his chest, you've got nothing to worry about except savoring this moment with him

Price

John is also a very light sleeper, so it only takes .02 seconds of you trying to stand from the bed for his bear-like snores to cease and his eyes to flit wide open

He'll grab you by the shirt hem, mumbling, “Where’re y’ goin’?” But it doesn't really matter what your answer is because his response is always the same: “No y’r not.” And pulls you back down. “Y’r stayin’ right here.”

He'll lie on his stomach, face smushed in the pillow, a big, warm hand tucked under your shirt resting against your belly

With nothing better to do, you scroll through your phone, catching up on your socials, the news, etc., but it's not long before you hear him grumble, “Put that away, will ya? ‘S too early to be meltin’ your brain with that thing.”

Well, what does he expect you to do? Lie there and stare at the ceiling for an hour? “Expect you to be good,” he tells you. “Don't make me get the handcuffs out again.”

Now that you have to laugh at. If he thinks it's too early to be on your phone, it's definitely too early for that

He smirks, opening his eye just a sliver, and the hand on your stomach begins to rub soft circles. “Is that so?” he taunts, his touch sneakily edging downwards. And when he slips beneath the band of your shorts, well…

Let's just say you're not leaving that bed anytime soon

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mishellii · 1 year ago

Text

♢ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ♢

ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ, ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ, ᴋɪʙᴀ, ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ, ɴᴇᴊɪ & ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ

a/n: sooo my first headcanons yeiih!! this just came flowing out of me while watching boruto tbh because i'm delusional lmao,,,, anyway, very self indulgent as always :) ignore typos pls i cant spell aaaand enjoy xx

likes & reblogs appreciated <3

warnings: none! SFW :) not proofread

masterlist

♢ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ♢

✿sUCH a messy sleeper

❀he'd toss and turn throughout the whole night, ending up somewhere completely different than where he fell asleep on the bed

❀matching pyjama sets !!!

✿especially seasonal ones, he adores them

✿BLANKET HOGGER !!!

❀but not on purpose really, he just pulls it with him due to all his movements

✿u always wake up with it either on the floor or him laying atop of it

❀sometimes he hits u with his elbow or his feet, but pls don't tell him he WILL cry

✿just push him away, boy will not wake up under any circumstances

❀the both of u alWAYS cuddle when falling asleep

✿the usual position is with his arms around your waist, legs thrown over ur own and his face resting next to ur shoulder

❀for that exact reason he's a BIG SPOON !!

❀so so quick to fall asleep, and wakes up after u as well

✿but not at all groggy in the morning !! he's energetic from the second he opens his eyes and sees u preparing breakfast

❀overall just the softest boyfriend ever

♢ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ ᴜᴄʜɪʜᴀ♢

❀now thIS dude sleeps like a corpse

✿he's not particularly prone on cuddling u, but he fairly enjoys having ur head on his chest and feeling ur fingertips draw circles against his skin

❀he'd never admit it tho obviously

✿mostly wears a black lose t-shirt and some short sweats or sumn

❀just comfortable all around

✿i'm a firm believer in the back position

❀laying flat on the mattress, one arm either around u, or both resting on his belly

✿light sleeper, if i may

❀takes him pretty long to fall asleep as well, but counting ur breath usually calms him and makes it easier

✿u make everything easier for him actually

❀doesn't really care about a blanket, it all really depends on what u prefer while sleeping

✿often awoken by nightmares, but won't ever wake u up or tell u the next day because he thinks it's embarrassing

❀refuses to leave the bed in the morning, but isn't moody at all just very quiet

✿always helps u make breakfast and makes the bed without having to ask him to

❀overall just a calm lover

♢ᴋɪʙᴀ ɪɴᴜᴢᴜᴋᴀ♢

❀without a doubt, a snorer

✿like IM SORRY LADIES but c'mon

❀but not annoyingly loud, just breathy lil snores

✿the problem with it is: he won't move an INCH away from u ever, he's all up in ur business while sleeping

❀doesn't matter how, he's always got to feel u next to him somehow

✿i take him as a sleep talker too, mumbling incoherent words against your neck which only make u laugh tbh

❀akamaru's got his own bed next to the two of u, but some nights he crawls in between ur bodies, practically suffocating u

✿you really don't mind on colder nights, but in summer kiba makes him get off, due to having such a high body temperature already and he doesn't want u to complain even more

❀wore a shirt and pants at the beginning of ur relationship

✿but now??? u'd have to FORCE him to wear anything more than boxers

❀hates when u don't want to cuddle :(( might as well kill him fr

✿why need a blanket when he has you??

❀doesn't leave the bed AT ALL in the morning, u literally have to grab him by the feet and drag him out of it

✿he's a sweetheart, really

♢ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ ɴᴀʀᴀ♢

❀dude HATES cuddling at the beginning of ur relationship, me thinks

✿but fear not, it just takes a bit of convincing from ur side and he's in on it

❀but it's subtle touches really, like holding his hand or having ur feet intertwined

✿if u've had a bad day, he'd definitely play with your hair to make u fall asleep, he's not a diCK

❀grey sweats all the way !!!!!

✿rarely ever wears a shirt, except for when it's cold of course

❀he seems much more like a light sleeper than not, but he's so grouchy when something wakes him up it's a drag really

✿has to be completely dark and quiet in his room or he won't be able to close one eye

❀always sleeps on the side closest to the door

✿big on talking about both ur days at night because he's a very private person and loves spending time with u ALONE

❀deep talk at 2am?? u can bet on it

✿forehead kisses!!! once u wake up and neither of u want to get up and start ur day

❀he's such an attentive lover in general, i'm actually going insane

♢ɴᴇᴊɪ ʜʏᴜɢᴀ♢

❀oh my lovely boy

✿i feel like he wouldn't move a MUSCLE while sleeping

❀sometimes you have to poke him to make sure he's still alive

✿AHEM

❀a light sleeper foshou

✿also ????

❀he would 100% wait for u to fall asleep first

✿would always run his fingertips over your back to make you tired

❀unfortunately, the closest to cuddling u two do, is ur head on his chest

✿he gets sweaty quickly, so he'll often sleep without a shirt (which u don't complain about obviously) and that's the reason why he doesn't necessarily NEED body contact (in this situation only!!)

❀but HUGE PLUS he'll sweet talk you to sleep almost every night

✿asking about ur day from begin to end

❀he wants to know it ALL

✿in general, he's really big on making you as comfortable as possible before bed

❀would even wait till the morning to go pee because you look so peaceful laying on his chest

✿don't mind him watching u he just thinks ur so pretty ok

❀u wake up to the smell of coffee almost every morning

✿overall, as we been knew, the gentlest gentlemen to perhaps ever gentleman goodbye

♢ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ ʜᴀᴛᴀᴋᴇ♢

❀poor baby's the king of light sleepers

✿always ready to jump into battle and protect u if he has to, even if u convince him that ur safe and nothing's going to happen :(

❀casually wears a black tanktop and some sweats, mask and shinobi headband easily reachable on the bedside table at his right side

✿definitely enjoys u playing with his hair too much

❀he prefers to fall asleep with his head either on your chest or tugged just under your chin so he can hear you breathe and ur heart beat

✿he's so tragic oh my days

❀anYWAY light snores but only when he's REALLY gone and u rarely ever see him in this state so,,,,,

✿loves listening to ur stories before falling asleep

❀legs & arms intertwined and allathat

✿you will never lay in bed without him picking up one of his books at least ONCE

❀it really calms him down u know

✿but start a conversation with him, and he's all urs, book long forgotten next to his mask and headband.

❀always wakes up earlier than u, preparing breakfast with said book between his fingers

✿(he swears he'll close it once ur awake tho)

❀((he does))

a/n: AHEM i hope u liked it ???? pls tell me ??? AAAA i will see u beans next time bye bye xx

devider by @enchanthings

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