Then the door swung open. No knock. No warning. Just the soft creak of hinges and sudden light from the hallway spilling across the floor.
Ibara Shiozaki stepped inside first—vines swaying gently behind her like living hair, expression calm and polite—followed surprisingly immediately by Momo Yaoyorozu, who carried a small notebook and a look of mild curiosity.
Both froze mid-step.
The scene slammed into them: Hatsume bent naked over the workbench, breasts hanging heavy and flushed, pink nipples stiff, and ass high with the black toy still humming inside her.
Denki behind her, pants around his ankles, cock slowly pulling out—cum dripping from Hatsume's swollen pussy in thick strands that stretched and snapped onto the floor. Sweat shone on their bodies, hair dishevelled, faces flushed and dazed, the air thick with the unmistakable musk of sex.
Silence—absolute, suffocating.
Then Hatsume panicked.
"NO—NO NO NO—GET OUT! —THIS ISN'T—THIS ISN'T WHAT IT SEEMS!!"
She scrambled upright so violently the rolling chair tipped sideways with a loud clatter. The anal toy slipped halfway out before she clenched instinctively—moaning sharply despite herself as the vibrations shifted inside her.
Her hands flew everywhere at once—trying to cover her breasts, then her leaking pussy, then back to her breasts—arms crossing awkwardly, elbows knocking tools off the bench in a metallic crash.
"THIS IS CLASSIFIED RESEARCH! PROPRIETARY DATA! NON-DISCLOSURE! NON-DISCLOSURE!"
Her voice cracked high and frantic, her face flaming red, eyes wide and wild behind the goggles.
"I—I wasn't expecting visitors! Power Loader said no one would—oh god, the door wasn't locked—WHY DIDN'T I LOCK THE DOOR?"
She spun in a frantic circle looking for anything to cover herself, then grabbed the nearest thing: a greasy rag from the bench. She pressed it to her chest like a shield, only to realise it was smearing oil across her breasts.
"NO—WRONG RAG—THIS IS THE SOLVENT ONE—!"
Ibara's vines twitched violently—curling around her own shoulders like a protective cage. Her face turned scarlet, eyes wide, lips parted in pure horror.
"This… this is an abomination… the sanctity of creation has been profaned… in the house of invention…" Her voice trembled, vines trembling with her. "We—we shall depart immediately and pray for your eternal souls!"
Momo's notebook slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a soft thump. Her cheeks burnt crimson, eyes flicking from Hatsume's leaking pussy to Denki's exposed cock, then snapping back up to their faces.
She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again—words failing her completely for once.
"We…I…needed your help…" she managed in a strangled whisper. "We… should have… knocked louder."
Ibara's vines shot forward—not to attack, but to wrap around Momo's waist and pull her backward toward the door like a living tow rope.
"Come, Yaoyorozu-san. We must leave this place of sin before further corruption takes root."
The door slammed shut behind them—hard enough to rattle the tools on the walls. Silence returned, broken only by the faint buzz of the toy still inside Hatsume and the drip-drip of cum hitting the floor.
Hatsume stood frozen—a rag pressed uselessly to her chest, oil streaking across her breasts, face buried in her hands.
"I… I'm ruined," she whispered, voice small and shaking. "They saw everything. Everything. The data… the prototype… my reputation… Power Loader's going to expel me… Principal Nedzu's going to expel me… My parents are going to kill me."
She looked up at Denki—eyes wide, panicked, glistening with the first hints of tears. "We're so fucked."
Denki stared at the closed door, heart still thundering at the sudden cold reality.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "We really are."
"I'm done," Hatsume whispered, voice cracking. "I'm done. They saw everything. Everything. Momo's gonna tell the whole class. Ibara could write a formal complaint. I'll be expelled. No more inventing. No more babies."
Her breathing hitched faster—short, panicked gasps. She started pacing in tight little circles, bare feet slapping the floor, hands flying to her hair, tugging at the roots."
I should've locked the door. Why didn't I lock the door? I'm an idiot. A genius idiot. The worst kind. And now—now they know I'm a pervert who builds sex toys and tests them with classmates. I'm ruined. RUINED!"
Denki—still half-hard, pants around his ankles—finally snapped out of his own shock. He pulled his boxers and pants up quickly, zipping them with shaking hands, then stepped toward her.
"Hey—hey, Mei. Breathe. Look at me."
She didn't. She kept pacing, muttering about expulsion rates and 'permanent record stains'.
Denki gently caught her wrists, careful, soft—stopping her mid-circle.
"Mei. Listen. They might not say anything."
She laughed sharply and bitterly, almost hysterically. "They saw us. Mid-thrust. With a toy in my ass. They saw."
"Yeah, they did," he said quietly. "But think about it. Ibara and Momo would judge, but they would probably want to handle this privately. They rely on you, both of them. You modify their costumes, and you build their support gear. You're the reason half their quirks even work right in the field. They're not going to burn that bridge over one… uh… awkward moment."
Hatsume blinked up at him, eyes still wide and glassy.
"They need you," he continued. "A lasting relationship with the support course is worth more to them than gossip. They'll probably pretend they saw nothing. Or at least keep it quiet."
She swallowed hard. "And… you?"
Denki gave a small, crooked smile—half-resigned, half-ironic.
"Me? I'm the pervert in this story. The blame's going to land on me no matter what. 'Kaminari turned the workshop into a porn set.' I'll be the cautionary tale. But honestly?" He shrugged. "I don't mind. If anything… more girls might come around. Pun intended."
Hatsume stared at him for a long second. Then—miraculously—she laughed. A real one. Shaky, but real.
"You're an idiot," she muttered, but the panic was bleeding out of her voice. "A sweet idiot."
Denki let go of her wrists and stepped back. "Come on. Let's clean up before someone else walks in. I'll grab the rags—you… uh… deal with that." He nodded toward the toy still buzzing inside her.
Hatsume flushed darker, then reached back—slowly easing the device out with a soft, wet sound and a quiet whimper. She set it on the bench (still vibrating faintly) and wiped herself down with a clean(ish) towel from a nearby stack. Denki found his shirt, pulled it on, then helped her locate her tank top and coveralls.
They dressed in awkward, hurried silence—her coveralls tied around her waist again, tank top slightly crooked, his pants zipped but shirt untucked. Cum stains on the floor, tools knocked over, air still thick with sex.
When they were finally clothed, Hatsume turned to him.
And surprised him.
She stepped close, close enough that he could smell her shampoo mixed with sweat and arousal, cupped his face with both hands, and kissed him.
Deep. Slow. Tongue sliding in soft and warm, tasting faintly of him and her own release. It wasn't frantic like before—just tender, lingering, and grateful. Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones as she pulled back just enough to speak against his lips.
"Go," she whispered. "Before I can't control myself again and drag you back onto the bench."
Denki exhaled shakily, forehead resting against hers for a second. "Yeah… probably smart."
He stole one more kiss, then stepped back.
"I'll… see you after the exam?"
Hatsume gave him a small, crooked smile—still flushed, still a little dazed.
"For more data," she said. "Obviously."
Denki nodded, turned, and slipped out the door—heart still racing, mind spinning.
It was going to be a long day and maybe a couple of days, depending on the results.
****
The Provisional Hero License Exam venue rose ahead like a fortress of steel and concrete—high walls, massive gates, and the low roar of hundreds of students already gathering outside.
The U.A. bus had dropped everyone off in neat rows, Class 1-A stepping out in their standard school uniforms shoes polished despite the nervous energy crackling in the air.
No hero costumes yet—the rules were strict: change into gear only after registration and the initial briefing. Everyone looked like regular high schoolers on a field trip, except for the faint sparks of quirks already flickering at fingertips and the way some students bounced on their toes like coiled springs.
Denki stepped off the bus last in his row, tugging his tie straight. Yesterday's chaos with Hatsume still sat heavy in his chest like a bad hangover, but he'd forced it down.
No confrontation with Momo; she'd kept her head in her notebook all day, avoiding him and hallways where their paths might cross.
Approaching Ibara? Not happening. Walking into 1-B's classroom uninvited felt like stepping into a minefield.
He hadn't even wandered the halls at night hoping for Tsuyu. No kitchen trips, no stolen glances, no repeat of the counter or his bedroom. He'd showered, stared at the ceiling replaying every second of the workshop scene, then forced himself to sleep.
Today he was locked in.
Focus on the exam, get the licence and deal with the fallout later.
He adjusted the collar of his blazer and joined the flow of students heading toward the registration tents. Kirishima fell into step beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
"You good, man? You've been quiet since yesterday."
Denki flashed a grin—easy, practised. "Yeah, just hyped. Ready to shock the competition. Literally."
Kirishima laughed. "That's the spirit! Let's go get licensed, bro!"
Inside the main gate, the venue opened into a massive open-air arena divided into testing zones—mock city blocks, forest simulations, water channels, and elevated platforms. Proctors in high-visibility vests directed traffic, megaphones barking instructions.
The air buzzed with nervous chatter, quirk sparks, and the occasional yelp as someone's warm-up went wrong.
Denki rolled his shoulders; yesterday's chaos could wait.