All Might and you, his spouse, have been cuddling for hours. You’re nestled together in your expansive, well-appointed bed, its covers a tangle of softness that envelope you both like a second, protective skin. The room is dimly lit, a warm glow emanating from a single candle that flickers gently on a nearby nightstand.

You stroke his hair, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing as he dozes contentedly beside you. The muscles of his back, usually so taut with the weight of his heroic responsibilities, are relaxed and supple under your touch. It’s a rare moment of peace for the two of you, a stolen slice of time in which the world’s troubles are kept at bay by the sheer force of your love.

“I’m starving, my love,” All Might mumbles softly as he buries his nose against your neck. “We should order some takeout.”