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

Heat. Thighs. Sweat. Bad decisions. Mina Ashido kicked off her blanket for the third time that night.

Her forehead glistened with sweat. The air was thick, her cheeks were hot, and her inner thighs felt like they were personally sponsoring this heatwave. She blinked up at the ceiling of her dorm room, heart doing double-time for absolutely no reason.

“Why the hell is it so hot in here?” she muttered.

She reached for her phone, eyes still bleary. The screen lit up with the last message from the Class 1-A group chat.

RYUU: “Tomorrow’s training: bring energy, wear protection. The batting cage awaits.”

Mina snorted. “Protection, huh? Real subtle, Bat Boy.”

She smirked and closed her eyes, the afterimage of his text still glowing behind her eyelids. That was the last rational thought she’d have for a while.

Because the next moment, she was standing—no, posing—in her bed clothes inside a massive neon-lit batting cage. Villain-shaped piñatas hung from the ceiling like some twisted arcade carnival from hell. Spotlights shone down in pink and blue. The air smelled like ozone and bubblegum.

And then came the voice.

“You showed up. Brave.”

She turned.

Ryuu stood at the far end of the cage, bat slung over his shoulder, trench coat fluttering slightly even though there was no wind indoors. Sports goggles rested on his forehead, his bare chest partially visible beneath the unfastened fabric. Boxer waistband peeking out. Just enough to short-circuit a teenage hero's moral compass.

Mina blinked. “Where are your pants?”

He grinned. “Secrets don’t come cheap.”

Oh no.

Dream Mina was NOT prepared.

He stepped forward, offering a glowing bat with a smirk like this was some devil’s contract. “For every home run, you get a secret.”

Her mouth went dry.

Her dream self, traitorous and curious, grabbed the bat.

The first piñata was shaped like Bakugo. She cracked it dead-center, sending it into a spiral of confetti and toothpicks.

Ryuu was suddenly behind her, leaning in like her breath was his to steal.

“I pretend not to notice how much you blush when I call you Pinkzilla,” he whispered.

Her knees almost gave out.

She turned to slap him, but the smirk on his face made her arm pause mid-air. “That was ONE piñata?” she hissed.

He only shrugged. “Some secrets are heavy.”

The next swing was faster. A piñata of Mineta exploded with a squeal.

“You called me hot in the group chat once. Deleted it in 0.3 seconds. But I saw.”

Mina’s grip tightened on the bat. “I was drunk.”

“There was no alcohol.”

“You’re drunk!”

The third swing came harder, faster—Endeavor piñata this time. It burst into flames and shame.

“You said your acid doesn’t burn things you like. But I’ve got a burn mark from last week. So which is it, Pinky?”

She was panting now. Not from the swings.

“You're—ugh—you’re doing this on purpose,” she spat.

“You dreamed it, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

And that’s when she went for the fourth.

The bat vibrated with the force of her swing—but before it could hit, Ryuu caught her wrist mid-motion. His palm was hot. Her arm trembled.

“How many times do I have to show up in your dreams before you tell me I’m your favorite?”

Piñata shrapnel floated like confetti in slow motion around them. His goggles caught the light—mirroring her flushed reflection back at her.

Her lips parted. No sound came out.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“I want a real secret,” she blurted.

He let go.

The trench coat slid from his shoulders in cinematic silence. His chest was littered with light bruises, fresh marks from battle, skin glistening like it had its own spotlight. He rolled his shoulder, spinning his bat in one hand like a lazy predator.

“You wanna know my biggest secret?” he said, stepping into her space. “It’s that you can’t stop what I’ll do to you after our date.”

Her brain dropped all coherent thought like a glass vase.

She raised the bat.

“Come on, Pinkzilla,” he said.

She swung.

Contact.

The piñata above exploded like it had been packed with fireworks. The entire cage lit up—light, color, sensation. Her body tingled. Ryuu’s smirk burned into her retina. Everything blurred.

She gasped.

Her eyes snapped open.

Sheets tangled around her legs. Her tank top clung to her like a second skin, soaked through. Her heart pounded like she’d just done a hundred-meter sprint and climaxed at the finish line. She blinked into the darkness, every nerve ending in her body screaming like it missed the dream already.

She was burning. Inside-out. Core-to-thighs. Her hips shifted without permission, like her body thought the dream wasn’t over yet.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, voice dry. “Oh my actual—”

She glanced down.

Her hand had gripped the blanket tight between her thighs.

She yanked it away like it was evidence. Her breathing quickened. Her skin was flushed everywhere, from collarbone to bellybutton to between her legs. And her brain? Still flashing neon lights and the slow roll of Ryuu’s voice:

“You can’t stop what I’ll do to you after our date.”

She smacked both hands over her face. “What the fuck, brain. What the actual—I need help.”

Fumbling, she grabbed her phone. The screen was still lit, still open to the Class 1-A group chat like it had watched the whole thing.

She didn’t even hesitate.

MINA: “I’M NOT IN LOVE, OKAY?! THIS IS JUST BATTLE CHEMISTRY.”

She stared, breathing hard.

A few seconds passed. Nothing.

Then, the typing bubble.

Then—

RYUU: “Sleep well, Pinkzilla?”

She flinched like she’d been electrocuted.

Her thumb twitched. Her legs squeezed together involuntarily.

And then she screamed.

A high, muffled, mortified scream into her pillow that sounded like it might summon a demon or a guidance counselor.

She rolled onto her back, pillow over her face, still throbbing in places she refused to name. Her legs wouldn’t stay still. Her skin felt hot, raw, branded.

She muttered into the pillow, like it was her last confession:

“I swear to god… if he wears that trench coat tomorrow…”

Pause. A breath.

“…I’m going to fail NNN in July and it’s not even May.”