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

Hey everyone! How are y’all doing? Everything good? Hope life is treating you well. I’m currently on a mission to de-forest this barren land

Hey everyone!

How are y’all doing? Everything good? Hope life is treating you well.

I’m currently on a mission to de-forest this barren land—by which I mean, I am trying to get more of you to actually comment under chapters. It helps the algorithm, boosts morale, and makes me feel like I’m not whispering fanfic into a void.

Now, about the Dream Log you are about to read:

This scene is part of the Forbidden Thought: Dream Log series.

These are not canon plot—they are extra scenes. Surreal, steamy, emotional, chaotic little explorations of what some characters might be thinking (or dreaming). They are here to add depth and spice, not story changes.

• ❌ Not official story progression

• ✅ Emotional and entertaining

• ✅ Optional—but I do recommend it if you like character juice

Some characters might tease or mention things from these dreams in canon, but nothing in them alters or drives the main narrative.

Enjoy—or skip—no pressure. Just have fun.

Now go read. Or comment. Or both. Preferably both. ❤️

--

The dorm walls breathed.

Not metaphorically—literally. Moss-coated and pulsing, as though the building itself had lungs buried beneath soft loam and moonlight. U.A. High had collapsed into a swamp. Frogs chirped from the ceiling. Fireflies flickered midair like camera flashes in a crime documentary. And there, amidst the shimmering fog of midnight and madness, Tsuyu Asui dragged a shirtless Ryuu Midoriya across the wet grass like a particularly spirited bride kidnapping her own groom.

He wasn’t making it easy.

“What the hell is this?” he snapped, vines tangled around his wrists, sweat gleaming down his chest. “This isn’t your usual ‘ribbit and relax’ vibe, Asui. Did I fall asleep in a frog cult?”

Tsuyu didn’t answer. She just stared at him—golden eyes unblinking, pupils like endless black pools, hair tied back with a frogbone pin. Her kimono shimmered between silk and skin, all green and gold, patterned in curling lilypads and dripping water. She wore it like a crown, not a garment. Her voice was calm, melodic.

“You promised me the next date after the internship,” she whispered, close to his ear. Her breath was cool against his skin. “Ribbit. So I took you.”

Ryuu groaned. “Couldn’t you just wait one more day?”

“You were too slow.” Her tongue coiled faintly around her wrist like a snake leash. “You don’t get to delay a frog. We pounce.”

Tsuyu padded barefoot across the floor, robes trailing like shadows.

Ryuu squinted at the jade bowl in her hands, catching the scent of crushed herbs.

“What the hell is that? Are you gonna poison me?”

She didn’t look up.

“Not poison,” she murmured, methodically grinding something that glowed faintly green. “Enhancement.”

Ryuu’s eyes swept the jarred frogs, the mossy altar, the wall of glowing eyes. He winced.

“This feels like the part of a villain lair where I wake up missing a kidney.”

Ryuu, now seated in a hot spring filled with green mist, glared. “You’ve officially surpassed Crazy Villain on the weird scale. Congratulations.”

She tilted her head, tailcoat dragging along the steam-soaked tile. “You mock the frog. But you’ll understand soon.” Then, with a breath: “Ribbit.”

And then she straddled his lap.

Her knees rested on either side of his thighs, and the contact was unmistakable. Water lapped softly around them, her fingers trailing down the slope of his collarbone.

“You always saw me as calm,” she said, lips brushing his jaw. “But frogs don’t need noise to trap something they’ve already marked.”

Ryuu opened his mouth to retort. She kissed him.

Slow. Passionate. Eyes wide open. Her breath fogged against his cheek, then his lips, and then vanished into him like mist. The world stilled. The water turned to starlight. The bathhouse disappeared.

Now they were suspended in air—floating above a pond of silver ink, stars blinking around them like stunned fireflies. Her hands gripped his shoulders with surprising strength. He tasted mint and something wild.

“They say a kiss can break curses,” she whispered. “I wonder if it can cast them, too.”

Ryuu’s lips twitched. “You kiss me and I croak, I’m haunting your next aquarium date.”

She kissed him again.

And that’s when it started.

His limbs tensed. Fingers curled. Glowing green webbing stretched faintly between his knuckles, veins like bioluminescent vines pulsing beneath skin. His breath hitched. His pupils dilated.

She leaned closer, breathing him in like steam from a sacred spring.

“You smell good~” she murmured. “Now you even smell like mine.”

The scene shattered.

They were back—but it wasn’t the swamp.

Tsuyu sat on a throne of twisted vines and lilypads, now in a high tower. The floor was glass. Beneath them, koi swam in tight circles, all with glowing frog eyes. Ryuu knelt beside her, body marked with glowing script across his back—incantations in ancient amphibian. His wrists were bare, but he didn’t run. He was dazed. Breathing slow.

“You’re better like this,” she said, fingers tracing his shoulder. “Quiet. Obedient. Mine.”

Ryuu, blinking slowly, managed: “...You better not try to feed me flies.”

She laughed—a soft ripple, like a ripple in a pond. Then she pulled out a collar, simple leather but marked with a glowing lotus seal. She clipped it gently around his throat.

A soft click.

It glowed.

“Would you rather stay here?” she asked, smile curling at the edges. “Say yes... and I won’t tie you up again.”

Ryuu groaned. “I should’ve just gone on that aquarium date...”

She kissed the top of his head. “You did. This is better. No tourists.”

She woke up with a gasp.

Her heart pounded against her ribs like a drumline. Her throat dry. Her skin warm.

Tsuyu Asui sat up slowly in bed, clutching the blanket like it had answers. Misty light filtered through her dorm blinds. Her frog-themed alarm clock chirped once, then died.

She looked down.

There, on the pillow, was a small, dark smudge.

Lip gloss. Her own. But it hadn’t been there when she fell asleep. She reached for it, bringing the cloth to her nose. Yep. Mint and frogberry—the stupid blend Mina gave her.

Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, as if she’d broken the surface of water too fast. The dorm room was quiet, save for the low hum of the heater and the faint chirp of her frog-shaped alarm clock—one that sounded suddenly obscene in its innocence.

Tsuyu’s hand fisted the sheets, damp with sweat. Her thighs pressed together beneath the covers. Her heart thudded like it had tried to leap out of her throat.

The memory of his mouth was still there—soft, wet, hers. The feeling of straddling him didn’t fade with the dream. If anything, it grew stronger the more awake she became. The hot water, the steam between their bodies, the way his skin tensed under her fingers like he was holding back...

She wasn't just remembering the dream. She was reliving it in real time, inside her own skin.

She stared at it, breath hitching, fingers brushing her bottom lip.

Then she caught herself in the mirror.

Her reflection was flushed. Hair mussed. Neck glistening faintly with sweat. And her eyes...

...glowed. Just for a moment. A faint phosphorescent flicker. Enough to make her pulse trip.

She pressed her hand against her chest. Everything in her felt tight. Caged. Buzzing.

Her tongue slid out just enough to touch the tip of her finger, instinctive and slow. She whispered, almost like it wasn’t meant to leave her throat:

“...I should’ve gone further.”

A pause.

Then, softer. Hungrier.

“I’m still hungry.”