The BSD men falling asleep on you
Nikolai, Mushitaro, Sigma, Lovecraft, Jouno & Ango
(Is this my unofficial announcement that I write for Ango now? Yes, yes it is.)
Nikolai Gogol
Nikolai had been running on pure coffee and imagination-fueled fumes all day long after a night of two hours of sleep the day before.
Finally, at 11 o' clock at night he seems to run out of jokes, nudging his head into your lap while you read a book he deemed 'stupid and emotional' earlier in the day before you caught him crying in the bathroom, on chapter 4, a few hours later.
He always had the energy of a pack of wild toddlers in their natural habitat, tired or not, so it startled you to find him snoring and already drooling on your lap in just a few minutes.
He had a firm grasp on your arm, snuggling it like a teddy bear, and was otherwise halfway draped across you, in a dead sleep you didn't want to wake him up from.
Instead, you stroked his hair and tried to make yourself comfortable on the couch, pausing the TV and listening to his snores, the quietest you'd ever heard a sound out of him.
It wouldn't be the best sleep either of you ever got, but it would suffice to recharge the both of you for another day.
Mushitaro Oguri
Your dear Mushi, tired? Outwardly? A miracle. When he curls up on top of you during a bubble bath that was supposed to be exclusively yours, excitement courses through you, giggling at this cat-like posture. You tease him for a moment, but when he meets your eyes, you see that he's struggling to keep them open.
His motives are clear; he's jumped in your hot warm bath just to fall asleep on you.
Normally, every night he likes to sleep with his head to your chest so he can hear your heartbeat, but tonight he's too exhausted to even wait until bedtime, which, to his credit, is still several hours away.
You let him rest, rubbing his shoulders and back while he slips into a gentle bathtime snooze.
Kissing his head a few times, you pour a bit of warm water over him and change your posture so that the water laps over his body.
He grumbles, but barely stirs.
"Shh, Mushi, go back to sleep."
He gladly obliges.
Sigma
Sigma is generally exhausted, that's nothing new for him, but today sleep is overtaking him faster than he can prepare for it.
It's not long before he's layed out across your lap while you sit in bed, scrolling through social media, splayed out like a starfish and looking for your attention.
For a moment, you think he wants to cuddle, but it's clear that it won't be a long cuddling session. He just wants you to cuddle up with him so he can sleep properly.
When you put down your phone, he's already reaching out for you, fingertips gracefully sliding down your face. He brings your face closer, guiding you downwards for a nuzzle. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into an embrace, breath slowing down.
His eyes are only lightly closed, but you know better than to disturb him. He's got so much going on; while you've never seen him nap, you want to encourage it. He needs rest and self-care, and those are things that he puts far, far down his list of priorities most nights.
You quickly reach to shut off the bedside lamp and snuggle him tighter, pulling the blankets over you two.
Extra sleep would be good for the both of you.
H.P. Lovecraft
He is the ultimate sleeper normally, and while it takes more than some poking and prodding to wake him up, you still hesitate to disturb him when he drops, already half-asleep as usual, into your lap as you clack at your desktop computer.
He can't possibly be comfortable, body on the floor, with his neck stretched to inhuman heights to reach your lap. You giggle under your breath; his bodily distortions are something you've come to be quite comfortable with, and with minimal effort, you slide a hand down his lengthened neck and tickle him at the base of his collarbone.
He opens his eyes with an unamused snap and a slight furrow at his brow, wondering what the issue is.
With a sigh, you remind him that you're working, and that if he wants to sleep on you, he'll have to wait for a few more minutes.
He groans, rustling to the bed five whole steps away with the apathy of a sloth, annoyed at your rejection.
As much as you like to have him in your lap, he does it so often that it has made you get behind in your tasks many times.
You sense a glare as you continue typing, a little slower in hopes of being quieter so that he could sleep, but it is clearly to no avail, as his gaze is burning searing holes in your head and he is very evidently not going to sleep without you tonight.
You shut down your computer and put on the same relaxing beach-side sounds you do every night to calm your favorite ocean man, and you sweep into the bed beside him, pulling his head into the crook of your neck. He's tall, too tall for the bed, but curled up in such a position that he feels smaller than you.
He lets out a soft, contented growl, happy with your affections, before dropping off into dreamland, expectantly waiting for you to follow.
Jouno Saigiku
He's definitely only doing this because you hinted that you liked it.
Prideful as always, he insists that he's just tired, but you know he just wants you to croon over his actions and give him your undivided attention.
He pretends to fall asleep faster than he actually does, "sleep"-biting your wrist, a little smirk present on his face when you groan.
Always the sadist.
You roll him off your lap playfully, careful to make sure he won't hit his head on the bed posts.
You try to drift off to sleep yourself, certain that he'll keep teasing if you don't.
You jolt as he pulls you by the ear, frowning.
Apparently, he's dead set; he wants to fall asleep on you tonight. In a flash, his much-larger frame is pressed on top of you, and he's got you in a tight, inescapable embrace.
He's asleep in a few moments, just as he said he would be, and while it wasn't the 'cute' moment you were looking for, the cuddles were satisfying.
Ango Sakaguchi
Ango straight up drops, basically already asleep, into your shared bed.
He reaches out vaguely at the surrounding area, looking for you, knowing you're buried under a mound of covers somewhere.
You grasp his hand and pull him into the barrier of warmth you'd created over the course of a few hours.
He mumbles and groans some incoherent words into your chest; sweet things, you're certain, and you'll pretend you know what he said tomorrow.
You rub the base of his head, which feels feverish, as it normally does, and work your fingers up into his scalp to massage that constant throbbing headache away.
He's beginning to snore, and as a last minute act, you ease his glasses off his face and set them aside for tomorrow.
You whisper sweet words into his ears for him to hold through tomorrow.