When Khan and Uraraka reached the medical wing, Recovery Girl barely spared him a glance before scurrying over to the mess of Midoriya's bones on the opposite cot. She muttered something about overuse and dumb bravery. Didn't even ask why Khan came for.
He set Uraraka down gently, propping her against a pillow. She winced again. He reached for the blanket, tucking it around her legs in an attentive older brother way.
"You rest," he said, brushing a speck of dirt from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Let me know if you need help filling out aid forms later. Or talking to staff. I've got pull with some of the admins."
She stared at him, eyes shining.
He winked. "You'll be fine."
Then he stood and left without looking back. Because real predators didn't chase. They made people follow.
**
When he walked in, the widow, Hana, was already home. Wooden floors cleaned. Dishes stacked. House smelled clean. Her back was turned, bent forward, scrubbing at something nonexistent on the counter, butt moving. The apron strings dangled loose down her ass, swinging with her. She wasn't wearing panties or a bra. Just an apron, obedience, and the scent of someone who'd already decided this was her job now.
Khan's grinned as he walked up, grabbed her from behind, hand sliding up her front without a hint of grace. Fingers hooked under the apron, yanked it against her ribs, pulled her tight to him. The other hand went straight for the tit. Squeezed until her moan cracked halfway through.
She gasped, hips jolting, back arching into him.
"Are you trying to seduce me?" he muttered against her neck, voice lazy. The question was rhetorical. So was the hand still mauling her tit under the thin cotton. Her nipple was already hard. Her thighs pressed together.
"I was just… cleaning," she said, breathing shallowly.
"Looks clean to me," he said, sliding his hand down her stomach. "Guess that means it's time for maintenance."
She whimpered. No evidence of shyness or innocence. That ship sank a week ago. But she still trembled in excitement, wondering what was coming. The lonely one? The horny one? The one who woke up needing validation from a man half her age who never smiled unless he was ruining someone?
He spun her around with one hand on her hip, then backed her against the table. Bent her halfway over. The apron twisted at her chest. Her hair clung to her face in sweat-laced strands, eyes already glazed.
"I cleaned everything," she said, voice shaking. "Even the closets."
"Missed a spot," he said, tapping two fingers against her clit. "I'll handle it."
She moaned so loud the windows should've blushed. Khan leaned down, pressed his mouth to her neck, then bit hard enough to leave a mark. Her whole body jumped.
She didn't even resist when he spread her legs wider. She just gripped the edge of the table and rocked her hips.
"You owe me a thank you," he said into her ear.
"For what?" she whispered, barely able to breathe.
"For not billing you yet."
She shivered. That needy little noise in her throat made him grin again. His fingers slipped inside her and she clenched around him like she'd been waiting all day. Maybe she had.
Maybe she stood in front of the mirror this morning, tied the apron on slowly, stared at her aging tits and the wrinkles just starting near her eyes, and told herself it was okay. That this was fine. That Khan was doing her a favor.
She wasn't wrong.
He didn't kiss her. He fucked her with his fingers until her knees buckled, then dragged her to the couch and threw her over the side.
"I have dinner in the oven," she said, trying to look back over her shoulder.
"Not hungry," he said, slapping her ass.
She moaned again, louder this time.
He slid inside her in one brutal motion. She screamed, hands clawing at the couch, mouth open and drooling onto the cushion. Khan fucked her hard and fast. Nothing gentle.
Every thrust hit to remind her of the ownership. Every moan she gave up sounded closer to a prayer.
By the time he finished, her legs had gone limp and her fingers twitched against the leather. Khan pulled out, slapped her ass again, and watched her jolt like a trained pet.
"You leaking. Keep it in." he said.
She nodded, barely conscious.
He stood, zipped up, and walked to the kitchen. The oven timer went off right as he opened the fridge and grabbed a drink. He popped it open, took a long swig, then walked back to her.
She was still face-down on the couch, ass red, apron bunched around her waist. Cum trickled down her thighs.
"You forgot to clean under the sink," he said.
"I'll do it now," she whispered, trying to push herself up. Her arms shook.
He grabbed her head and pushed her back down.
"Tomorrow," he said. "You earned a break."
She didn't get up when he pushed her head into his lap. She stayed folded where he put her, cheek against his thigh, breath still uneven, hair stuck to her face and neck. Her hands rested on the couch cushion, fingers twitching every few seconds, body slow to catch up with the fact that he was done and standing over her instead of inside her.
Khan leaned back, one hand on the armrest, the other settling on the crown of her head. He ran his fingers through her hair, patting her head.
"I heard your daughter came back from university," he said.
Hana froze. Then slowly, she nodded.
"Yes," she said. The word came out thin. "She got in last year. She's… she's home for break."
Khan hummed. His fingers curled into her hair. He gathered it at the back of her head, wrapped it around his knuckles, then let it slip free.
"Send her here tomorrow," he said.
Hana sucked in a breath. Her voice wavered when she spoke. "But---"
His hand came down on her ass. Hard. The sound cracked sharp through the room.
She cried out, more shock than pain, then bit it back too late. Her hips jolted forward. The apron bunched higher around her waist.
"No butts for now," Khan said. "I'll take your ass later."
Her body sagged after that, the fight draining out of her. She nodded into his leg, hair falling over her face.
"She won't listen to me," Hana said. "She's stubborn. She talks back. She won't obey."
Khan laughed under his breath.
"Let me deal with her," he said.
Hana nodded again. Faster this time.
Khan slid his fingers out of her hair and stood. He stepped away from the couch, grabbed his drink off the counter, and took another swallow. Hana stayed where she was, face turned into the cushion, breathing slow now, waiting to be told what came next.
He didn't give her anything else.
"Clean up," he said. "Then go shower."
"Yes," she said.
He didn't watch her move. He walked to his room and started to put on a disguise. Tonight, he'd hunt.