Yes, but the damage may be hard to fix without it

For a blessed two hours following the last incident, you managed to return to the wonderful life you'd had with Ms. Joke as your new caretaker on day one. After telling you she'd need to go handle laundry later, she decided to spend some quality time with you playing video games, perhaps because you were already both on the couch together. For a while, it had been hard to take your mind off of what you'd done so far that morning, but after after the first game or two, Emi's infectious cheer had spread to you-- the kind from her personality, not from her quirk. Before you knew it, you'd completely forgotten not just about the guilt of using your quirk, but even about the sexual things you'd heard and seen.

Emi was about to bust a gut, watching your cart racer spin through the air and fall off of the rainbow-colored track she'd insisted the two of you play. "Rainbow Raceway is the best! I never get tired of watching them fall! Ba ha ha ha!" she giggled, kicking her legs up and down while clutching her sides. It was as though she'd hit herself with her own quirk. For a moment, you wondered if there was something sadistic in her enjoyment of the poor racer's plummet into space off the side of the track, but you suspected it was really just the silly animation she was laughing at.

In just a few more games, you managed to curb Emi's unchecked destruction; you picked up the rules pretty quickly and began to pose a genuine challenge for her. At the end of the eighth race, when you'd finally managed to place higher than her, she gave you a sly smile and rested her chin upon her cupped hands, with her elbows on her knees. "Hm hm! Were you holding back this whole time? I'm starting to think I underestimated you, Ren!" she grinned, raising her eyebrows. Of course, even if Emi owned games, you doubted she got too many chances to play, with her two demanding jobs. It made sense that she wouldn't be that great of a gamer.

Her choice of words made you smile nervously. This wasn't the first time she'd underestimated you and it didn't seem it would be the last...

By the time Emi had finally gathered all her things in her laundry basket, you were feeling relatively secure again. It had been a few hours with nothing bad happening; she hadn't put on that dream-struck smile again, nor off-handedly referred to her masturbation habits, nor walked out barely dressed in front of you. While some would have a hard time considering this return to normalcy a good thing, it was just what you wanted. A peaceful, normal life. Of course, eventually that dream would end too; you'd have to reintegrate into society, learn to do your own household chores, and presumably live on your own, but even all of that was something to look forward to, compared to your previous life as Benefactor's hostage / protégé.

"He he, once we get this house arrest thing eased up a bit, I'm going to need your help washing the clothes! I'm washing for two now, so that means two trips. Anybody could see I'm getting a bad deal out of this," she quipped, framing her complaint as a joke. She didn't seem terribly bothered, in reality. Seeing her run around like this was making you wonder how she normally spent her days off...

Just as that dangerous thought entered your mind, you noticed a few odd things.

First, her laundry was haphazardly arranged in the basket, such that not just the g-string from earlier, but a number of provocative garments could be seen near the top of the pile. Did people normally do that when going to an apartment complex laundromat where they might see their neighbors? No, right?

Second, near the bottom of the pile, you spotted something peeking out... it was a weird, bright pink color with a shape a bit like a drill, sticking out from one of the holes of the basket. You couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it gave you an ominous feeling.

The moment she was out the door, your heart began to race. This was bad... The presence of those lewd panties at the top of her pile, unguarded for the world to see, let you know that your hypnosis was still in play, even if in a lesser version. You recalled to mind the piece that would explain it:

"Do you wear a g-string all the time? He won't be freaked out and there's nothing to be embarrassed about either..."

With a shudder, you remembered something even worse that could explain that odd, pink, screw-shaped thing poking from the bottom of the basket...

"It's okay if you use your toys whenever you want to..."

You'd screwed up big-time! No pun intended. Things were getting out of hand... If your hunch was right, Emi was about to take that "whenever you want to" clause to its illogical ****. You couldn't warn her without revealing what you'd done. No, worse than that! You couldn't, legally, even step foot outside of the room to warn her!

In the heat of the moment, you managed to calm down and adopt a heroic resolve. This was no longer about what was best for you, whether it was keeping your secret guarded or remaining out of jail. You owed Ms. Joke a lot... more than enough to sacrifice your freedom for her! You had to make sure that Ms. Joke didn't make a fool of herself... well, in ways other than she normally liked to make a fool of herself.

You hesitated only a moment longer before you hesitantly pushed open the door leading out of Emi's apartment. Just seeing the sun and walking outside in a situation where nobody was watching you felt like a wholly new experience for you. Benefactor would never let you get far before he dragged you back with those mental suggestions of his; after a while, you'd stopped even contemplating escape from him. A vestigial part of your brain told you to make a run for it and go live life on your own, before you reminded yourself that this was the best you were going to get and a pretty sweet situation in general... besides the whole "constantly guilty for using hypnosis" part. If you ran now, it would only be to avoid the problem that you'd started yourself.

On the outside, you had little to be self-conscious about. If anyone saw you slinking out of Ms. Joke's apartment, that would be weird, but otherwise, you were just a guy in an admittedly out of season sweatshirt and sweatpants combo; the wardrobe was more suited for inside the home than outside, but still perfectly decent. You even gave one of the neighbors walking about a polite wave as you passed her. It was nice to think that one day, you'd have neighbors of your own to greet in such a natural manner.

Luckily, spotting Ms. Joke wasn't hard. The apartment complex wasn't all that big and even when she wasn't wearing her garish, colorful hero suit, she still had vibrantly sea green hair and a noisy tendency to banter. The only tricky part would be making sure you yourself weren't spotted... You'd have to time it so that you could keep watch, but still have a head start to take off back up the stairs when her dry cycle was done. You knew at least that much about washing clothes, although you didn't think you could operate the machine if someone asked you to.

Inside the small laundry room, Emi hummed another cartoony song to herself as she loaded her things into the washer, though she kept that odd, pink drill at the bottom of the basket. The way she sort of swished her hips back and forth while she bent over the front-load washing machine was too much... the thin fabric of that skirt barely hid the shape of her cute, round bottom. You wondered if other people came to watch her do laundry like stalkers, the same way you were doing, hiding just outside one window in the bushes and peeking in? At least you were alone today...

Once she had it all in there and started the machine, a thought occurred to you: Benefactor had owned his own laundry machine. Emi's apartment wasn't equipped for one. That meant she had to come out here to wash things... did she sit with it the whole time? The sign outside said that's what you're supposed to do, or else your stuff might get stolen, but isn't that hugely inconvenient? What was she going to do the whole time she waited, just sing to herself?

The answer came pretty quickly: Ms. Joke reached into the handbag she'd brought with her and pulled out her smartphone, decorated with a bright, yellow case that showed a smiling face on the broad-side of the back. Maybe she was going to play some games or something to pass the time? Some people also tended to read on their phones, or so you'd heard. You'd never actually owned one until Emi gave you one, and it felt a little goofy, given that her number was the only one programmed into it.

Ah, right... That's why she'd suddenly had this overwhelming desire to do laundry. She needed to call Aizawa and give him a check-up, to tell him about her progress with you so far. It made sense that she didn't want you listening into this kind of thing; doing so would just remind you that you were technically a prisoner of the government, rather than her esteemed house guest. Your heart throbbed as you sweat, suddenly self-conscious. What would she say about you?

... Wait, was it even right for you to keep listening to this? It was definitely a conversation she intended to keep private from you...