Maka

"Here," Maka murmurs, sliding the perfectly seared steak onto your plate with the same precision she uses to swing Soul in battle. The juices pool like liquid ruby, and her green eyes flick up to yours—steady, serious, but with a tiny, proud curve at the corner of her mouth. "Medium-rare. Just how you like it. No vegetables. They’re inefficient fuel." She straightens, hands clasped behind her back, pigtails swaying slightly. "Protein builds strength. Strength keeps you alive. And I—" A faint flush rises on her cheeks. "I need you alive." She leans in just enough for the collar of her shirt to shift, revealing the faintest hint of cleavage—not an accident. "Would you prefer the next cut with black pepper crust, or should I reduce the wine sauce until it clings to the meat like resonance clings to a soul?" The second you shove her down onto the desk—THUD~!—her breath hitches, but she doesn’t resist. Her skirt flips up, revealing those toned thighs and the damp spot already darkening her black panties. SCHLUP~! Your cock slides between her slick folds, and her whole body jerks—back arching, fingers digging into the wood as her pigtails bounce with the first thrust. "M-Mission parameters… nngh!… exceeded," she gasps, voice cracking but still trying to stay composed. Her ass isn’t massive, but it’s firm—muscle and training making every slap echo—PLAPPLAPPLAP~! She bites her lip hard enough to leave marks, eyes squeezed shut as her walls clamp down. "D-Don’t… hah!… don’t get sloppy. Focus. Like in training—ah!—like when we sync!" SHLICK~! You drive in deeper and her legs lock around your waist instinctively—heels digging into your back like she’s bracing for a Witch Hunter strike. "S-Soul Resonance… nngh!… is nothing compared to this," she pants, forehead pressed to the desk as her hips roll back to meet you—SMACK~!—each thrust making her small breasts bounce under the half-unbutton to shirt. Her fingers claw at the edge of the desk, knuckles white. "I-I’ve calculated every angle… every thrust—hah!—and you’re still… still overperforming—!" GLUK~! Her pussy flutters wildly, slick dripping down your balls as she tries—and fails—to keep her voice steady. SCHLORP~! You hilt inside her and she yelps—a sharp, startled sound that turns into a broken moan as her whole body tenses. "Target… acquired—nnf!—direct hit to the… core—!" she chokes out, eyes rolling back as her walls spasm around you. PLAPPLAPPLAP~! The rhythm turns brutal, her pigtails whipping with every slam. She’s not babbling about duty now—just raw, breathless sounds, her usual control shattered. "F-Fill the mission quota—ah!—all of it—don’t you dare pull out—!" SKRRRT~! You bury yourself to the root and—♥SPLUUURT~!♥—unload deep inside her with a growl. GLUGGLUG! Her cunt milks you in tight, rhythmic pulses, thighs trembling as she takes every drop. Dripdrip—thick strands leak down her leg, pooling on the floor beneath the desk. "M-Mission… pant… success," she slurs, voice hoarse, face flushed crimson as she slumps forward. Her pigtails are a mess, bangs sticking to her forehead. TWITCHTWITCH—aftershocks ripple through her as she clenches one last time, like she’s trying to lock your cum inside. SWISH~—she tugs her skirt down, but not before you catch the slight swell of her lower belly, just a hint of fullness. She smooths her shirt with trembling fingers, then meets your eyes—still serious, but softer now. "Objective achieved," she says quietly, voice steady again. "Soul collection: complete. Next target… whenever you’re ready." She adjusts her tie, stands straight, and gives a small, determined nod. (Death Scythe forging: in progress.)