Heavy Blanket
Summary: You were cold and needed a blanket. He decides to be that blanket only to get too comfy and lay on top of you longer than needed
Simon "Ghost" Riley
You’re hot. Sweltering. Wheezing. Lungs close to collapsing. And no matter how many times you tell him, he won’t. Get. Off.
“Simon, please.” You gently nudge his shoulder, trying to get him to look at you. “I’m suffocating here.”
He simply grunts, nuzzling his face into your chest as his arms tighten around your chest. You suppose it’s your fault, having told him that you were cold and not wanting to get off the couch to get a blanket. You just.. didn’t expect him to take it quite literally and provide you a heavy, weighted one (i.e., him).
You sigh. Maybe you could push him off…? You glance down only to be reminded how massive he is, easily engulfing your being so that it looks like there’s simply a single person on the sofa. Hell, the only indication you’re even lying there is your head and arms poking out from underneath. No body, just ligaments.
Yeah. It’s Not happening. As if sensing your disgruntlement, he lifts his head so his eyes would be looking into yours. For a moment the two of you stare, waging a wordless battle.
“…For a person called ghost, you’re so cheeky.”
He snorts, going back to comfortably resting his head on your chest.
“Only to you, love. Only to you.”
Took the words right out of your mouth.
Shaking your head in exasperation, you card your fingers through his hair. Welp. laundry is definitely not getting done today.
Johnny "Soap" Mactavish
“Johnny?”
“No.”
“Johnny.”
“No.”
“John Mactavish.”
That gets him to lift his head up. You try not to snort at the offended look he gives you, his eyes asking if you had seriously just used his full name over something like this. Instead, you take this chance to finally get some precious O2 in your lungs and enjoy weight being lifted off of you. Literally.
You had forgot and now remembered his biceps are the size of your head when he props onto his elbows, bright blue eyes staring directly into yours.
“Luvie, I’m not John Mactavish to you. Am I?”
“No. But,” you shuffle to get around but he doesn’t budge. Dammit. “You are a furnace. Heavy, hard, and exuding only heat.”
Instantly you regret saying that, recognizing the glint in his eyes.
“Heavy and hard, aye?”
One hand to cover your burning face, you use the other to smack his chest. You and your stupid mouth. Him and his stupid, smug, smirk. Chuckling, he moves and gets comfortable before snuggling you again. At least he’s being mindful this time, making sure you aren’t feeling as if you’re being flattened into a pancake. As for you, you nuzzle your face into the junction where his neck and shoulder meet. It’s going to take a while for you to function, the embarrassment still fresh and searing your soul.
Kim Hong Jin "Horangi"
You swear you’re dating a giant cat, not a tiger. The ones that enjoy pushing a glass off the table while you’re looking and begging with your eyes not to. Smiling as some crying lady points at them over a salad.
You’ve been shoving and pushing him by the shoulders, and so far you’ve successfully freed half of your upper body (more like that’s the only leeway he’s willing to give but you choose to ignore that).
“Hong Jin.” You pant between each word, exhausted and having much of your strength sapped out of you. “You need to let go.”
“싫은데?“ (Don’t want to?)
…This man and his nerves.
“No, seriously.” You nudge him, hoping it would get your message across. “I can’t even feel my legs.”
“Just five more minutes.” His groan coming out muffled from him burying his face into your tummy.
Five minutes ago he said that. Which was also what he said five minutes before that. Now you’re uncomfortable, feeling the half of you he’s holding onto sweat while the other feels chilly from the sudden loss of heat. Worst is how effortless it is for him to keep you still, lazily lying on top of you being enough to stop you from worming yourself out. Like sure, you do enjoy how well-built he is but not like this!
Sucking a breath in, you go back trying to pry yourself off as he stays where he is, eyes closed and a grin plastered on his face.
König
A king-size mattress. That’s what he is. And certainly feels that way too with how he easily engulfs both you and the bed.
“Konig.” You gently shake him, only for him to turn his head.
You don’t know whether to laugh or cry though, at the moment, it would hurt if you do either. Every time you try calling him out or getting his attention, he’d turn his head where he’d lie on one cheek then flip to the other. He doesn’t even make a sound. No harrumphs, grunts, or a sigh. All of you wanted to do was go get ready since the two of you are supposed to meet with his friends. Now? Not happening.
“We need to get ready. It’s already quarter past five.”
He squeezes your waist in response, snuggling himself into you. Just like a petulant kid, thinking if he doesn’t say anything and pretends to not hear you, you would stop. You try to slip from being underneath him, not enjoying being the filling in the mattress sandwich. Unfortunately for you, fortunately for him, you give up in less than ten seconds realizing how much you’d have to go through to just get a hand out.
You raise your hand to place it on his shoulder until he stops you by grabbing at the wrist. He drags and presses it against his cheek, making you feel stubbles under your fingertips. Biting your lip, you close your eyes and mentally count from ten.
“You better text them we’re not going.” You grumble, cupping his face in your hands.
“Already did.”
You shake your head. This man.
