The Hobbit is not mine and I make no money from this.

From the hobbit-kink prompt (Post 3, page 1):

'So, everything is finished, Erebor re-taken, Thorin and Bilbo are married.
Thing is, Bilbo didn't know what he signed up for.
Because now that the Dwarf-king has what he wants, and doesn't have to fight all the time anymore, he can finally sleep like a stone.
Unfortunately for Bilbo, though, this also means that Thorin is finally allowed to snore as well.
And, in comparison to that of his king, even Bombur's snoring is almost silent.
Poor Bilbo cannot get a good night sleep anymore.'

Bilbo Baggins was going to murder his husband. He may be a mild-mannered hobbit in some respects, but drastic actions would soon be required. Bilbo was going to hold one of their newly acquired feather pillows over the dwarf's face until the noise stopped.

No one would blame him. In fact, there were several inhabitants of nearby rooms who may help keep the pillow in place.

The problem was that Thorin snored. It wasn't the faint snuffling noise that most hobbits (Bilbo included) made, it wasn't even the rhythmic grunting that could be heard after a night of hearty drinking. It was loud, it was constant, and it didn't matter what position Bilbo shoved his husband into, the noise was always there.

The exhausted hobbit had tried to seek help. He had asked Ori for advice on how to sleep through the racket, but the young dwarf had given him a puzzled look and asked if the king really was that bad.
He had asked Dwalin how he, who had been a friend of Thorin for many years and so must have slept close to him frequently, had managed to stay sane; to which the dwarf replied that he worked himself to the point of exhaustion and simply dropped off the moment he lay down.
Bilbo turned to Fili and Kili for aid, and they suggested going to sleep before Thorin. A fine suggestion, which didn't take into account the fact that Thorin was quite… amorous most nights, and so Bilbo going to bed first had no impact. He was aware that the boys did not like to think about their uncle's sex life though, so he never explained this to them.
Gandalf had puffed silently on his pipe for a while, before suggesting that Thorin cut down on smoking and that might help ease his snoring.
When they had spoken to the elves, Bilbo had asked them too. The prince of Mirkwood, to whom he had been speaking, gave him a puzzled look. It turned out elves didn't actually sleep. The closest they got was a meditative state.
The men in Laketown suggested Bilbo acquire little wooden plugs covered in a material to go in his ears at night to lessen the impact. The women in Laketown suggested that Thorin cut out drinking alcohol in the hours before bed and take up regular exercise.

Even with all this advice, Bilbo was still lying awake at night, listening to his husband snore away.

He sat up and looked down at the lover, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes. He just wanted some rest! He was bone-weary and in need of a good night's sleep. He sat with his legs cross, beside his husband as his mind drifted back to the shire, to his warm bed there where the only noise at night was the rustling of trees and maybe an animal.
His head dropped forward for a moment, before jerking back up. He was so sleepy. Why couldn't he sleep?
He tried curling up against Thorin's chest, hoping the rhythmic rise and fall would help ease him into sleep. His mind went back to Bad-End though, to the quiet halls and the familiar rooms. He thought of his study, where many nights he had fallen asleep at his desk. He thought of his main reception room, frequently littered with books and maps as he didn't get many visitors, where he could curl up by the fire and pour over the words of others… of adventurers.

He supposed he counted as an adventure now. The notes he was writing would eventually come together as a book that some young hobbit might pour of, eager to hear something of life outside the shire. If he was allowed to finish his book. He wasn't sure what privileges one was given when the murdered the king under the mountain.

It would be worth it though. He could sleep.

Realistically, Bilbo was aware he could go back to Hobbiton. He could return to his hobbit hole, to his books and maps and empty rooms. He was sure if he told Thorin he wanted to spend some time in his own home, where one could easily see the trees, the rabbits, could go for walks in a forest without nearby dwarrow hissing about elves… Dear Thorin would let him return; he would nod his head, claim to understand and let his husband visit the shire for an indeterminate amount of time. Of course, Bilbo was aware that Thorin would be hurt by the separation, however brief.

That was the reason Bilbo couldn't do it. He wondered if he needed to be there to see over the trade negotiations, if he needed to have a say on different intricate aspects of dwarrow law or if he had to attend weekly audiences with the whole court. Bilbo would much rather be sleeping.

Still exhausted, still unable to sleep through the noise, Bilbo began to imagine what he could do. He could sleep earlier in the day, having afternoon tea then settling down. If he had a sleep, then dinner and supper later, perhaps he would feel better. Recently, Bilbo had been unable to eat much, but he blamed his husband's noisy ways for that.

Not that he really begrudged him the ability to sleep soundly. Thorin had confessed that all through their journey, he had not settled properly, half awake at all times. He had felt the need to protect the younger members of the company; not just Bilbo, but Ori, Fili and Kili. He had mentioned that the thought of any harm befalling his nephews was a terrifying idea. It was not that he considered the boys anything less than resilient, but that his sister would unleash all kinds of fury on him if he allows her sons to be harmed.

So Bilbo truly was pleased that the dwarf he loved could finally relax and rest properly. If only Bilbo could do the same…

Still, the chance to tend his gardens at night could be pleasant. There weren't many areas where plants could grow, as being inside a mountain gave him something of a limit on the amount of natural light available. However, Bilbo was content with what he had.

But, the elves had given him seedlings for his garden, and had waxed poetry about the graces of tending a garden by the light of the moon. He was unsure if these graces would even extend to a hobbit living in a mountain and surrounded by dwarves, but he would give it a try.

Sleep by day and work by night. Frankly, it sounded wonderful to the sleep-deprived hobbit. He sighed and stood up, shuffling over to the side room they had to go and get dressed for the day. May as well begin tending his garden now.

Of course, the hobbit mused as he glanced back at the strong, handsome form on the bed, maybe he could go to bed in the afternoon and sleep to Thorin and his ardent, affectionate ways woke him up. It would be a nice way to start the day.

The only thing they would have to work around was the feasts thrown for foreign dignitaries. If Elrond came visiting, Bilbo did not want his husband to be the one to throw anything in his honour.

It could work though, he decided fondly. If not, Fili was going to have to step up to the throne much sooner than expected, because Bilbo would be forced into committing mariticide and regicide in one go.