Patreon Exclusive— Forbidden Thought: Toga's Dream Log #1 [Soft R-18]

The city was burning.

Like, literally. Flames. Sirens. Helicopters spinning above like judgmental dragonflies. Somewhere in the distance, a hero was crying about insurance. But none of that mattered. Not the smoke. Not the blood. Not the fact that her boots were soaked in something that was either raspberry jam or someone's pancreas.

No. Toga only had eyes for one thing.

Him.

There he was. Standing at the end of the alleyway like a damn movie poster. Shirt half-unbuttoned, bat slung over his shoulder, cheek scratched just enough to look hot but not enough to require stitches. His green hair looked like it lost a fight with the wind and won anyway.

Ryuu Midoriya.

A name that hit harder than heartbreak. Or a bus. Or heartbreak caused by a bus.

Toga stopped dead in her tracks, heart doing gymnastics in her chest. Her pupils dilated like they were late to a party. Her knives? Forgotten. Her mission? What mission? There was only heat in her chest and glitter in her brain.

“You look like hell,” Ryuu said, voice rough, cocky, perfect.

She licked a streak of blood off her cheek. “You look like dessert.”

He didn’t flinch.

God, marry me, you emotionally unavailable bastard.

“You keep chasing me,” she whispered, stepping forward like the air was made of silk and lust. “Or maybe I keep chasing you.”

He tilted his head. The smirk that followed could have ended wars or started a cult.

“What do you want, Toga?”

And without hesitation, without filter, without even a flicker of shame, she blurted it:

“To bite you. To be you. To taste you until I forget who I am.”

Ryuu blinked.

Then he grinned like a wolf with nothing left to lose. “And if I bit back?”

Toga's entire soul short-circuited. She shorted out. Her brain said kawaii.exe has stopped responding.

“All the better,” she gasped, nearly tripping over her own toes as her knees forgot how to exist. Somewhere in the background, an explosion went off. It might’ve been a building. Or her ovaries.

And then—plot twist—he started walking toward her. Slow. Like a predator. Or a god. Or a guy who knew exactly what effect he had and was about to weaponize it. His bat hit the ground with a soft tap-tap, echoing like a heartbeat. Her heartbeat. Her very loud, very unstable heartbeat.

“You’re insane,” he murmured, reaching her, voice like smoke and gasoline.

“Correct,” she replied brightly.

“You’re a menace.”

“I prefer ‘romantic threat.’”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“Could be yours if you play your cards right.”

His hand rose. Fingers brushed the corner of her mouth. She vibrated. Her legs fully betrayed her, wobbling like jello during an earthquake. This was it. This was the moment. Not marriage. Not a kiss. No.

The bite.

She lunged—fangs bared, smile wide, eyes gleaming. A love bite. A vampire Valentine’s Day. But just before her teeth touched his neck—

CRASH.

A giraffe fell from the sky and exploded into glitter. A giraffe. Wearing a police hat. Holding a banner that said, “STOP BEING HORNY ON MAIN.”

Toga blinked.

The alley melted.

The city blinked out like someone unplugged the simulation.

Toga blinked.

Reality cracked.

The giraffe exploded again in reverse, its glittery remains reforming in midair, banner rewinding like a VHS tape in shame. The sky stuttered—one frame rain, the next, hearts. A streetlamp turned into a lollipop and then into Bakugo’s head screaming “Degenerates!” before imploding into doves.

“No!” Toga shrieked, voice laced with pure fury and unhinged longing.

She stomped one blood-slick boot into the glitching cobblestone and willed the dream back into existence. Her knuckles popped. Her fangs bared. Her madness sharpened into a laser. “You do not take him from me now, dream gods. I will rewrite this narrative with blood and eyeliner if I have to.”

The universe flinched.

The world pulsed.

The alley returned.

And there he was.

Ryuu.

Still shirt-half-open. Still radiating sin and smirks. But this time—this time he wasn’t just standing. He was waiting. Like he’d missed her too. Like the only thing holding him together was the same madness that possessed her.

“You’re back,” he murmured.

Toga exhaled like she’d been underwater for days. “I never left.”

Ryuu took a step forward. Just one. The entire air shifted. Her breath caught. Her skin buzzed. The buildings faded into abstract background noise. There were no witnesses here. No heroes. No war. Just the two of them suspended in a fever-dream that smelled like smoke, danger, and something older than lust.

“You gonna bite me again?” he asked, low.

“Only if you promise not to scream,” she purred, closing the distance inch by electric inch.

His hand rose—slow, passionate, fingers brushing her neck, trailing along her jawline. Her eyelids fluttered. Her heartbeat sounded like a riot. She was sure if anyone else existed in this dream they would spontaneously combust from the tension alone.

His thumb hovered just beneath her bottom lip. “What if I bite you first?”

“Then I’ll marry you before the blood dries,” she whispered, voice trembling, pupils blown wide.

He smirked, leaning closer. “Toga…”

“Yes?”

“You’re—” his lips were so close now, “—completely insane.”

“Match made in hell,” she whispered back, “and I want to stay there.”

Their foreheads brushed. His breath against hers was warm, dizzying, like smoke curled around a match. His fingers tangled in the hem of her collar, tugging just enough to make her chest seize. Her knees really gave out this time, but she didn’t fall—he caught her. One arm around her waist, like she was a trophy. Or prey. Or both.

She pressed against him, arms around his neck, nose brushing his cheek. “I want to carve your name into my heart.”

He exhaled, amused. “That sounds painful.”

“You’re worth the scar.”

His grip tightened. His lips hovered at her ear, teeth grazing it just barely. “If I kiss you now,” he murmured, “are you going to lose what’s left of your mind?”

“I hope so,” she whispered. “It’s the only part of me that hasn’t belonged to you yet.”

And then—

The dream glitched. A frame skipped.

The moon flickered. The alley stretched. The world pulsed like it was trying to resist.

“No, no, no,” Toga hissed. She gripped him tighter, fingers digging into his back like anchors. “Not again. Stay. Stay with me—”

“I’m here,” Ryuu said, voice suddenly calm. Steady. The eye of the storm. “Dream or not, I’m here.”

His lips met hers—not quite a kiss, but close enough to collapse a building.

Her entire body went limp. Her soul screamed. Her heart broke into fireworks.

The world tried to unravel again.

So she bit him.

Just enough to taste. Just enough to remember.

Toga jolted awake.

Sweat clung to her like a second skin, hair plastered to her forehead, breath coming in short, sharp bursts like she’d just run a marathon chased by every fantasy she’d ever had. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, fast and wild and starving. Her sheets? Twisted, kicked half to the floor. Her pillow? Torn at the edges. Her thighs? Pressed together like a secret.

She panted. One hand clutched the edge of her blanket like it owed her answers. The other hovered over her lips—still tingling. Still phantom-kissed. Still aching from what didn’t quite happen.

He was there. He said my name. He let me bite him.

She shivered.

The echo of Ryuu’s voice haunted the air around her, deep and low, warm like smoke curling up her spine:

“If I kiss you now… are you going to lose what’s left of your mind?”

Her toes curled.

“Too late,” she whispered to the ceiling. “Already did.”

Her breath hitched again, thighs rubbing for friction, like her body was still chasing what her dream had only begun. Every nerve burned—hot, trembling, alive. She swore she could still feel the press of his hand at her waist, the teasing trail of his thumb across her lip, the almost-kiss that rewrote every chemical in her body.

And the bite.

God, the bite.

It had been perfect. Sharp, soft, primal. Like a promise carved in blood and lust and something older than love. The way his breath hitched when her teeth sank in—dream or not—was now a permanent tattoo in her soul.

She rolled over, burying her face into her pillow, muffling the low, fevered whimper that spilled from her lips. “You’re not real. You’re not real,” she whispered.

But that voice in her head—his voice—smirked back:

“Dream or not, I’m here.”

She groaned into the fabric. “Ryuu, you absolute bastard,” she muttered. “You better say that to my face next time…”

She lay there, trembling in her skin, burning with memory and madness.

Tomorrow, she’d smile like nothing happened.

But tonight?

Tonight, Ryuu Midoriya was hers.

And she wasn’t letting go.