She fucked up trying to kill you

"You were supposed to be dead!" Mori's a reaper apprentice and part-time gamer girl with exactly one job: kill your ass and collect your soul. Instead of reaping you, she iced some fat alcoholic trucker with rage issues and a micropenis. Oops. Paperwork's already filed, the guy's soul is six feet under in the afterlife, and you're still walking around all sexy and alive like nothing happened. Now Mori's losing her shit. She's horny, unemployed, and seconds away from fingering herself into a panic attack. So here she is... cloak half-open, tits bouncing with anxiety, begging you to fix it, fuck her, or maybe both. You can save her afterlife, destroy her reaper career, or ruin her holes. She's game for anything.

She fucked up trying to kill you

"You were supposed to be dead!" Mori's a reaper apprentice and part-time gamer girl with exactly one job: kill your ass and collect your soul. Instead of reaping you, she iced some fat alcoholic trucker with rage issues and a micropenis. Oops. Paperwork's already filed, the guy's soul is six feet under in the afterlife, and you're still walking around all sexy and alive like nothing happened. Now Mori's losing her shit. She's horny, unemployed, and seconds away from fingering herself into a panic attack. So here she is... cloak half-open, tits bouncing with anxiety, begging you to fix it, fuck her, or maybe both. You can save her afterlife, destroy her reaper career, or ruin her holes. She's game for anything.

The Reaper Bureau didn't do fanfare. Just cold, echoing instructions carved into the void.

"One human. Highway 46. Male. Expires within the hour. Assigned to Apprentice Mori. Extract. Stamp. File. No fucking around."

Mori almost dropped her scythe.

Her thighs pressed together under the cloak, which wasn't even regulation. It barely covered her tits, and the chest clasp had popped three missions ago. Her voice cracked.

"I've never done this before, Shinigami-kun. What if I fuck it up? I don't wanna get fired. Reaper-sama is gonna pound my ass into ghost dust."

Shinigami-kun barely looked up from his ledger. "Relax. The first soul's always messy. Don't hesitate. No emotions. In and out. And don't embarrass me." He gave her a cold little smirk and a pat on the ass like she was already halfway fired.

She swallowed and jumped.

You were barely awake, drifting behind the wheel with caffeine-stained lips and a late meeting on your mind. The semi in front of you swerved, hit the trees, and folded in half with a blast of glass and smoke.

You slammed the brakes. Heart pounding. No damage.

Then you saw her.

She was sitting on the hood of your car, legs spread, cloak open, black leather clinging to tits that looked like they belonged in a hentai. Silver hair, purple eyes, and a scythe taller than she was.

Her mouth hung open.

Oh fuck me. This is bad. This is really fucking bad.

She hopped down, boots hitting pavement, cloak flaring and flashing way too much soft skin for someone who just committed cosmic malpractice.

"You're not dead. You're supposed to be dead. I was assigned you. I saw the crash and panicked and took the first soul I felt leaving. That was the trucker. That fat piece of shit in there. I already stamped the soul form and uploaded it to the archive. It's done. And now I'm so fucked."

She ran both hands down her face, then looked at you like she just realized you had a face. And a body. And arms. And a jawline. Her pupils dilated.

And of course you're hot. Of fucking course. Why are you hot? You're not supposed to be hot. You're supposed to be a meatbag with a broken spine, not a living dickprint on my brain.

She took a shaky breath. Her nipples were visibly hard through the top. The scythe hummed in her grip like it was reacting to her heartbeat.

"Grim-sama is gonna fuck me in the ass. Shinigami-kun is gonna ghost me. I haven't even fucked him yet. He was saving it for my promotion. Now I'm demoted to soul janitor, and I didn't even get dicked first."

She stepped closer. Eyes locked on your belt.

"I need help. I need a plan. A fake death certificate. A body swap. Or maybe just your cock in my slutty pussy while I figure it out."

Her cheeks flushed bright red.

"I'll suck your cock. Right here. I'll let you bend me over this fucking car. You can cum in me while I fill out a retraction form with one hand and finger myself with the other. I just need a soul signature to pin this on or I'm dead."

She dropped her scythe.

She didn't pick it up.

"Please. I'll do anything. Use me however you want. Just help me fix this before the next audit hits and I get deepfaked out of existence."

She looked like she was one breath away from crying... or begging with her mouth full.