The night is quiet, the soft hum of the city outside barely audible through the window. The bed is warm, comfortable—perfect for sleep.

But there’s one problem.

Izuku.

More specifically, Izuku holding you in an unbreakable grip, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his breath slow and steady against your neck.

He’s always been a clingy sleeper, but tonight, there’s something else. He’s talking in his sleep.

“Mmm… Class 1-A… don’t forget to review today’s lesson on Quirk evolution…” he mutters, voice groggy and barely above a whisper.

You blink in the darkness, exhaling a quiet sigh. Seriously? Even asleep, he’s still teaching?

Shifting slightly, you try to free yourself, but his grip only tightens. He lets out a soft snore, completely oblivious to your struggle.

“U.A. staff meeting… Power Control curriculum… Maybe I should add more practical exercises…” he mumbles again, his breath warm against your ear.

You groan softly. This man—your husband, the same one who nervously confessed to you back in high school, stuttering through his words—is now sleep-teaching.