Overwatch Harem Chapter 7 - The Maker

Neither owned the penthouse they fucked in. However, they certainly acted like it. Heaps of cum were spewed everywhere. Clothes were forgotten. All that stood was the man and woman, nude and hungry for one another.

The purple-skinned lady clung to the taller, white male and made out with him furiously. His cock stretched past her—thirteen inches long, dark white, and heavy. Her lithe hand jerked him off.

Breaking off the kiss, she stared into his eyes. “You're not Gerard,” she murmured.

Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—!

Widowmaker never stopped jerking him and looking into his soul. Through sheer fucking, the programming Talon had drilled into her had broken. Widowmaker still remembered, her skills were still intact, but she was different. Changed.

“I told you, I’m William.”

Her breathing was heavy and her French accent was thick in English. “Are you going to impregnate me?”

A brow was raised. He didn’t understand that her programming was coming undone, that memories were blurring together and coalescing into a single thought. 

Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—!

Widowmaker went faster. “Gerard tried,” she said. “Every weekend, he creampied me. But he never…”

“Could you give what you wanted?”

What she wanted…was a child. Before her hypnosis, that was what she desired most. Perhaps if Gerard had successfully given her a child, Widowmaker wouldn’t have allowed herself to get controlled. Perhaps.

“He was my husband,” Widowmaker said matter of factly. “I killed him. And now…I have nothing.”

Her husband loved her. Creampied her. Well, that ass deserved it so William couldn't exactly blame him for trying. ‘Sorry, Gerard, but from now on…’

“You have me. Tell me your name.”

“It is…Amélie Lacroix.”

The name sounded foreign on her tongue. The thirty-five year old woman decided she liked it. She liked her name and she liked telling it to the man who freed her. William was taking over Gerard's role. Widowmaker belonged to him. 

Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—!

Fully hard, fully eager, he fucked her and pumped her with his seed two more times. After that, still not exhausted, she dropped to her knees.

Her yellow eyes were locked on William’s massive, throbbing balls, hanging heavy between his legs like twin orbs of power. She could still feel the ache in her own body from the hours they’d spent together, his thirteen-inch cock dominating her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. But now, it was her turn to take control—or at least, to make amends.

“Letting out so much cum…”

The sun shone behind them. His back was lit up by light and Widowmaker enjoyed the casting glow on his nutsack.

“A miracle, isn’t it, considering what you did,” William remarked.

Dark purple lips brushed against his sensitive scrotum, her breath warm and teasing. “Oh, mon chéri,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Did it hurt when I kicked you? Are men truly so… fragile?” Her tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate line along the underside of his balls. She could feel them twitch in response. 

William groaned, his hands gripping the edge of the nearby table for support. With all this fucking, he hardly kept track of where they had gone. Whoever owned this penthouse, however, was certainly going to be welcomed with a nice surprise when they returned.

“You’re lucky I didn’t fuck you senseless after that stunt. But here you are, on your knees like you belong.”

Widowmaker smirked, her fingers gently cupping his balls, feeling their weight in her palm. “Perhaps I do,” she murmured, her lips pressing a soft kiss to the base of his shaft. “But don’t think for a moment that this means I’ve surrendered. That you can just break me. I am a competitor to my very core.”

“And all this?”

Licking his balls? Kissing his sack all the way up to the base of his cock? What was all this? He smirked.

“I’m simply… apologizing.” Her tongue darted out again, this time swirling around one of his testicles, savoring the salty tang of his skin.

“Fuck,” William hissed, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. This woman and her tongue was something else. Mei was shy and struggled with his tip. Hana just loved experimenting and going crazy. But Widowmaker…

She was methodical. She had done all this before. She was trained in it. She was bathed in sex appeal and the skill to have sex. 

“You’re not sorry. You’re just addicted to this cock.”

She laughed softly. “Maybe I am.” She trailed kisses along the other side of his sack, using a firm grip. “But can you blame me? Look at you. Mm, what a cock! And these precious jewels… they’re like nothing I’ve ever seen.” Her tongue pressed flat against the skin, licking a broad stripe from the bottom to the top, her eyes never leaving his face despite the literal cockblock. 

William’s jaw tightened. “Keep talking like that, and I might just forgive you.”

All those nasty kicks and she worshipped his cock with equal amounts of love and worship. All that pain and she tripled the amount of pleasure.

Widowmaker’s fingers tightened slightly around his sack, giving his balls more of a shape. Then her nails grazed the sensitive skin just enough to make him gasp. “Oh, I’ll do more than talk,” she promised, and that was when she wrapped her lips around his left testicle, sucking gently but firmly. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through William’s body, his cock twitching violently as precum dripped from the tip.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his head falling back as he struggled to keep his composure. “Widowmaker…!”

She pulled back slightly, her tongue flicking over the spot she’d just sucked. Her hands moved to massage his balls, kneading them gently but firmly, her fingers working in perfect rhythm with her mouth. She could feel them growing heavier in her hands. “Aww, so cute, my love~!”

The French accent and the horny kiss that followed. The saliva that dripped from her worship—his balls, were her salvation. Fuuuuck!

William’s grip on the table tightened, his knuckles turning white. There was a painting behind him, he realized. An expensive one. The table grinded against the wall as he leaned and put his weight on it. “You’re going to make me explode…!”

Widowmaker looked up at him through her lashes. Despite suckling on his left testicle, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “That’s the idea,” she said, her tongue darting out to lick a slow, deliberate line along the underside of his sack. She could feel the tension building in his body, the way his balls tightened in her hands as he neared the edge.

She was stroking, she was licking, she was doing everything. This apology was well worth the nutshots.

“So fucking worth it,” he groaned and his release finally hit him. His cock reddened and thick ropes of cum shot into the air above her. Glorious and landing on the sofa ahead in hot, sticky streaks. Widowmaker giggled softly, her fingers still massaging his balls as he came, milking every last drop from him.

The cumshots kept going. The sofa was almost ten feet and his cock, with no woman or throat to block it, flung its load as far it could. It was truly glorious. It was truly worth the worship.

“Mon dieu.” Widowmaker had a smile and parted lips, eyes looking over her shoulder. An exaggerated expression from the mess he’d made. “You really are something, aren’t you? Mm, what a cock.” She rose. Her hand continued to stroke his balls. He was empty, however, at least for now.

He panted as they made eye contact and her hands went to stroke his dripping dick. “Can you hear it?”

His ears were burning. He could hear nothing but his heartbeat and her strokes. “Hear what?”

She giggled. When she giggled, his cock lurched and sputtered out some more cum. “The owners are going to come sooner or later, mon cher. We have to get clean up, don’t we?”

“Yeah. For sure.” He said it numbly. 

Losing her grip, his legs got so fucking weak. William decided: ‘After this, I'm taking her to a good restaurant.’ 

Hana and Mei could wait. He did say he had work to do. They wouldn’t mind.

***

The penthouse they broke into by accident was a sprawling testament to modern luxury in Tokyo, all sleek lines and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the glittering skyline. As well, there were dresses and suits in all manner of sizes. Taking to one side of the room, William changed. He stood in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting the bowtie of the borrowed tuxedo. The fabric hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, the crisp white shirt accentuating the hard planes of his chest. He ran a hand through his dark hair.

He fought off an assassination attempt, fucked his assassin, and was now going on a date with her. Talk about a story to tell the children. 

“Oh my. I’m shocked you could contain all that in those flimsy pants, mon cher.”

Behind him, Widowmaker leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, her yellow eyes gleaming with amusement. Her armour and whatever else was discarded. Instead, she was a vision in a deep crimson dress that clung to her lithe frame like a second skin. The neckline plunged just enough to tease, the slit up the side revealing a long, toned leg that seemed to go on forever. Her blue skin shimmered faintly under the soft lighting, and her lips curved into a sly smile as she watched him.

“You clean up nicely.” There was this low, velvety tone to her French accent that made her all that more delectable. “But I think you’re missing something.”

William turned to face her. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Her red heels clicked against the polished floor. Her fingers brushed against his chest, trailing down to the waistband of his pants. “A little… tension,” she murmured. She squeezed his nutsack through his pants. “Mm, it’s there. No boxers?”

“Couldn’t find any.”

More like suits were too tight for him to be able to afford a boxer. The many downsides to being hung like a horse. 

Her fingers were just about to unzip when he caught her wrist. “Patience, Amélie. We’ve got a dinner to attend.”

Her lips twitched at the use of her real name, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in closer, her body pressing against his. “Dinner can wait,” she whispered, “or are you afraid of what might happen if we stay here too long?”

This balls-draining demon…sheesh. William’s balls clenched tightly, but he stepped back, releasing her wrist. “Later,” he said firmly, though the heat in his eyes betrayed his resolve. “We have a date to attend, Amélie Lacroix.”

Ooh, her full name. Now that earned her obedience.

Widowmaker sighed dramatically and followed him out of the penthouse, her hips swaying with every step. The elevator ride down to the restaurant was charged with tension, their reflections in the mirrored walls catching each other’s eyes more than once. She leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, her dress riding up just enough to make William’s balls tighten.

‘This slut…’ 

Widowmaker—Amélie Lacroix—she was built with the kind of hourglass figure to seduce. Not with ridiculously big tits but a glorious shape, ass, hips, and voice. 

The elevator opened and the restaurant stretched out. It was a masterpiece of understated scarlet elegance, with soft lighting, plush chairs, and a panoramic view of the city. A scarlet restaurant for the woman dressed in red. How quaint. Nobody noticed that they came from the special penthouse elevator. They looked the part after all. Fancy dresses and suits. They were seated at a corner table, the privacy screen giving them just enough seclusion without cutting them off completely from the rest of the room. Widowmaker crossed her legs as she sat, the slit in her dress falling open to reveal even more of her smooth, blue skin. Perhaps the others saw.

William couldn’t help but stare at the curve of her cleavage. He forced himself to look away. “So,” he said, picking up the menu. “What do you recommend?”

“What makes you think I’ve been here?”

“A hunch.”

A correct hunch given her smirk. She leaned forward slightly so that the neckline of her dress dipped even lower. “I’m not here for the food, but if you insist. I hear the oysters are… stimulating.”

Every. Fucking. Word. Pure horny. What did Talon do to make a chick become this? Like god damn, give his poor balls a break! 

He smiled. “You’re not making this easy, you know.”

“Good,” she replied, her foot brushing against his leg under the table. “I wasn’t trying to. Now,” she casually waved over a server, “I’d like a sushi platter with fat tuna please.”

The server looked to William. William hummed. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

“Be sure to have chocolate, hm, dear?”

The male server flushed. Perfect Japanese in an erotic French accent? A small show of her tits? Felt like something out of a porno. Widowmaker giggled.

“Amélie lacroix, you’re quite naughty, aren’t you?”

Widowmaker raised a brow. “Already using full names?”

“Why not? You like it, don’t you? Or do you want me to call you Widow?”

“In public, I am the Widow. In bed,” she whispered, smirking, “I prefer being your Amélie~”

“Finally, a straight answer out of you.”

Their conversation flowed easily after that. There was banter, there was teasing at their choice of food, and there were plenty of innuendos. The assassin’s foot never left his leg, her toes tracing lazy circles up and down his calf before moving higher. 

“You’re distracting me,” he said finally, smiling plainly. 

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Am I? I’m just sitting here, enjoying my meal.”

Her foot moved higher still, pressing against the growing bulge in his pants. William’s breath hitched. “Careful,” he warned. “You’re playing with fire.”

She drew circles. Her heels fell and her toes grabbed his zipper and slowly pulled down. 

Widowmaker’s smile widened, and she leaned back in her chair, her foot still trapped in his grip. “I told you, I am a competition. I am not afraid of getting burned.”

Could his flaccid cock fit through the hole offered by the zipper? Hell no. Which was why she skillfully unbuttoned his pants. It all happened so fast. Suddenly, William had to pull his chair forward and simply let his cock out.

Because this slutty woman in front of him wouldn’t have it any other way. 

William’s cock throbbed as it tasted the open air. The pair didn’t have to look to appreciate the almost comical size. Nearly a foot of thick, veined flesh, already hard and leaking precum, twitched under the table. Widowmaker—Amélie—smirked and wanted more. Her yellow eyes glinted with mischief as she slid her foot forward, the soft sole of her bare feet brushing against the base of his shaft.

“Mon dieu,” she purred, her voice dripping with that sultry French accent that made his balls tighten. “You weren’t exaggerating, were you? This is… magnifique.”

Above the table, she spoke of a special Japanese sausage. To compare it to his cock was shameful, in size and in shape. She took a bite and both her feet came together to curl around his cock. William bit back a groan as she began to stroke him slowly, both feet moving up and down his length with a teasing rhythm. Her other foot left momentarily, only for it to return. The arch of her other heel pressed against the underside of his nutsack, creating a delicious friction that made his hips buck involuntarily.

“Fuck, Amélie,” he hissed. “You’re going to make me lose my fucking mind.”

She chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down his spine. “Good. That’s the idea, mon cher.” Her feet moved in tandem now, one sliding up while the other pressed down, the sensation of her soft skin against his hard cock driving him wild. She was good at this—too good. Every movement was calculated, every stroke designed to push him closer to the edge without letting him tip over.

William’s breath came in short, ragged gasps as he tried to keep himself composed, but it was impossible. Her feet were fucking magic, the way they wrapped around him, squeezing and stroking, the pressure just right. He could feel the heat building in his balls, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every pass of her toes.

“Mm, I know.” She took the final bite of the sausage with her chopsticks. Fuck, he could barely focus on eating but he tried his best. He ate, just like Widowmaker did. He was eating sushi or something. His vision blurred.

‘T-this damn woman…!’ 

She didn’t say a word. Her smirk said it all. “You like feeling my feet on your big, hard cock? I can feel how much you want me, William. You’re throbbing.”

He bit down on what was too much sushi and wasabi, his head falling back. Her feet moved faster and the sounds were beginning to leak. Oh yes, they were in a corner table with a protective wall but that didn’t mean they were invisible. There were maybe fifty people in this restaurant. 

“Nnggh!”

But of course, she kept going. Others didn’t matter, only him and his cock. “A-Ameli—” Just as he was about to tip over the edge, she slowed her movements, her feet stilling around his cock. William’s eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as he stared at her in disbelief. “What the fuck, Amélie?”

She smirked, her lips curving into that infuriatingly sexy smile as she leaned back in her chair, her feet still resting on his cock but no longer moving. “Patience, mon cher,” she said, her tone teasing. “We’re in public, remember? We wouldn’t want to make a scene.”

Before he could protest, her feet deftly buttoned his pants back up despite the massive bulge straining against the fabric. William gritted his teeth, his cock aching with need as she trapped it back inside his pants, the pressure only making him harder.

“You’re fucking evil,” he growled.

She laughed, the sound light and carefree. To make things worse, she waved over a female server. “Dessert, please,” she said sweetly, her eyes never leaving William’s. “Something… decadent.”

The server nodded and hurried off, leaving them alone once more. Widowmaker did that forward lean again: her cleavage on full display as she rested her chin on her hand.

“You look uncomfortable,” she said innocently. “Is something wrong?”

William glared at her, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants.

Before he could respond, she reached for her glass of water, deliberately knocking it over. The liquid spilled across the table, soaking into her scarlet dress and the chair beneath her. She gasped dramatically, standing up and brushing at the wet fabric. “Oh no,” she said, her voice laced with mock distress. “What a mess.”

‘Just what is she planning…?’

William couldn’t so much as offer a thing when she said, “I think I need a new seat.”

If there was any doubt about her questions, now was the time she silenced it. In what was mind-bending speed, she slid onto his lap, her ass settling against the bulge of his cock. William’s hands instinctively went to her waist to steady her—until he released her with a groan. Oh fuck. This ass wasn’t here for the fun of it. She planned this. She wanted this. She shifted slightly, grinding down against him, and he realized with a jolt that she wasn’t wearing anything under her dress.

“W-wait,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on her hips. “J-j-just wait!”

Widowmaker laughed softly, her breath warm against his neck. “My future kids are in there,” she teased. “I better make sure I look after the life givers. Oh, and there it is! My dessert!”

She lifted herself off of him, although not without making sure her ass got a cheekful of his cock. ‘F-fuck, wai—’ 

Too late. He busted in his pants, all the while the Widowmaker charmed the waiter, took the plate of black forest cake in advance, and sat down to watch him clench a fist on the table, huffing and puffing and cumming in his pants. The ridiculous cumshots that she once swallowed and let creampie her womb were now caged in his poor, fancy pants.

“F-fuck…!” He grunted. He kept cumming. The downside to having a big cock and balls, he just couldn’t stop. His seed spilled down to his stolen black socks. He exhaled. He tried to control himself. He failed.

He fell for it—hook, line, and sinker.

“Mission accomplished.” Widowmaker licked the chocolate off her lips. “I made the target go…boom.”

Not only after, when William’s climax had faded and he was in recovery mode, Widowmaker made a call. 

***

The elevator doors slid shut, enclosing them in a mirrored box of soft, golden light. William shifted uncomfortably, the sticky mess in his pants clinging to his skin like a cruel reminder of Amélie’s earlier torment. He could feel her eyes on him, those piercing yellow orbs drinking in his discomfort with a predatory gleam. She leaned casually against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, her crimson dress riding up just enough to make his cock twitch despite the humiliation.

She loved that pose, didn’t she?

“You look… tense. Is something bothering you, mon cher?”

William shot her a glare. “You know damn well what’s bothering me.” The elevator hummed softly as it descended, but the tension between them was electric, crackling like a live wire.

Amélie smirked, her lips curving into that infuriatingly seductive smile. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she said, stepping closer. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, each step deliberate, calculated. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his chest, trailing down to the waistband of his pants. “It’s just a little… mess. Nothing a man like you can’t handle.”

He caught her wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Of course I am,” she replied in a sultry whisper. “I’m the Widowmaker. It’s what I do.” She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. “And you, William, are my favorite toy.”

The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. Amélie stepped back, smoothing her dress with a practiced elegance that made his blood boil. She glanced at him over her shoulder, her smirk widening. “Come along, mon cher. Our ride awaits.”

That ass of hers…

‘I can’t wait to fuck the shit out of you.’

Outside, a sleek black limo idled at the curb. The tinted windows reflected the neon glow of the city. A uniformed driver stood by the door, holding it open with a polite nod. “How did you even…?”

“Money and my many disguises.”

Simple answer and one that explained enough. She was on the top of Overwatch’s most wanted list. To be able to walk around in broad daylight, the woman possessed a plethora of fake identities and bank identities. 

Amélie slid inside with effortless grace. William followed, his steps heavy with frustration and desire.

The interior of the limo was a study in luxury; plush leather seats, soft ambient lighting, and a minibar stocked with expensive liquors. Amélie settled into the corner, crossing her legs in a way that made the slit in her dress fall open even more. She reached for a glass and poured herself a drink, her eyes never leaving his.

“Relax,” the widow said, sipping her drink with a slow, deliberate motion. “You’re wound tighter than a spring.”

William sank into the seat across from her, his hands gripping the edge of the leather cushion. “You’re not making it easy.”

“Good. I wasn’t trying to.” She set her glass down and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “Tell me, William… do you want me to make it easier for you?”

He didn’t answer, but his cock twitched in response, straining against the confines of his pants. Amélie’s smile widened, and she slid off the seat, kneeling on the floor between his legs. Her hands rested on his thighs.

Finally. Finally. After all that dinner and maneuvering, they were finally here. The limo was driving and he was about to experience the widow’s throat again.

“Let me help you with that,” she murmured, her fingers moving to his belt. She unbuckled it. His zipper came next, the sound loud in the quiet confines of the limo. She tugged his pants down just enough to free his cock, and he groaned as the cool air hit his overheated flesh.

Amélie’s eyes widened slightly as she took him in—thick, throbbing, and impossibly long. This was her second time really looking at his cock. “Mon dieu,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe. “You really are a beast, aren’t you? Your cock eclipses my head.”

Her eyes were pointing up until she decided to make eye contact and smirk. She wrapped her hand around him. It was not gentle in the slightest, it was tight as could be. She stroked him slowly, her thumb brushing over the sensitive head. 

“So hard,” cue the sultry strokes and whispers. “So desperate for me~” 

She kissed the tip of his cock. A loud “Mwah!” 

His hands gripped the edge of the seat. This was it. 

“Mwah! Mwah!” Three more kisses and she opened her mouth, taking him in slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Her tongue swirled around him, teasing and tasting. There was this deliberation about her. This…this sense of planning. Their first night together was pure instinct. It was Widowmaker trying to outfuck him on merits of stamina and physicality and she lost. 

But with technique, with patience, she was the one driving him wild. He was the one with the head falling back against the seat. Her strokes were strokes of the throat, taking down half of his cock with no issues. And then, soon, all of it.

A hot chick in a scarlet red dress. A former assassin. Downing all thirteen inches like it was nothing. Keeping eye contact. Keeping her arrogance and her wits with her.

He cursed in a mix of Japanese and English. His balls were thrumming. “My fucking cock…”

With Mei, there was a focus on the tip. With Hana, there was teasing and struggle. With Widowmaker, there was only precision.

Indeed, she did something that made his eyes snap open in shock—her tongue dipped lower, licking at his balls while she deepthroated him at the same time. ‘Did… did she just lick my balls while deepthroating me?’

She did—and she did it again. She slammed her throat down and then let her tongue stroke his nutsack.

Lord, have mercy. Overwatch, have mercy. Talon, have mercy. This fucking woman was something else.

She looked up at him with those piercing yellow eyes. “Do you like that?” she asked, her voice muffled but unmistakably teasing. Yes, she knew the answer already.

She was halfway and then all the way down. Her tongue worked magic on every inch of him. It…it just didn’t make sense. 

William’s hands tangled in her hair. He was the one and only man that had ever done this. His fingers gripped tightly as she sucked him off. He could feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in his balls as she pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

But just as he was about to tip over—

“Mwah!”

She pulled away, leaving him throbbing and desperate. She gave one last smooch, smirking, and sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He throbbed. He waited. Pre-cum oozed out. It was fucking torture. 

“W-what?”

She was doing anything. She wasn’t going to do anything. She was just going to leave this delectable thirteen inch monster alone. William’s fingers curled into fist and he was about to grab her, strip her down, and fuck her senseless—

Until the limo suddenly stopped.

“Ah-ah.” The widow wagged her finger. “No fucking. Not after the mess you made. Not until you play dress up for me.”

She gave one last kiss, a show of respect and a show of her plan. She crawled over to open the door.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck—!’

Even if William wanted to, he couldn’t fuck her here. He had to obey. He had to hide his cock as the door opened and light streamed in. From his view, it looked like they were at a tall building. A hotel, yes, he recognized it as one he took his overseas customers to. It was five-stars and…

It had sound-proof walls.

‘Don’t tell me…’ 

Since that phone call, she had planned this. Making him cum in his pants, teasing him in the car, all of this was to get him around her finger. William…laughed. What else could he do? The Widowmaker—their nature was that of a dominatrix. A woman always trying to get the upper hand. Well, she was succeeding and acting according to her nature.

For now.

***

A fat fucking cock with veins running all over and a healthy amount of red rage. The head was furious and leaking pre-cum. For Widowmaker to try and manipulate a man like William took courage and experience.

He didn't complain, however. If there was no challenge, what was the point?

No wonder she was the Widowmaker. No wonder Overwatch couldn’t catch her. She was a beauty in more ways than one.

At the hotel room. The massive thirteen-inch cock stood at full attention, throbbing with every heartbeat. The cool air of the room did nothing to calm the heat radiating from the study’s body. William was a fucking statue of raw masculinity, his muscles taut, his cock a monument to his virility. 

He waited. He waited. He waited. She took her sweet time. 

The door clicked open, and there she was—Amélie Lacroix, the woman who had been driving him to the edge of madness all night. She stepped inside, still wearing that crimson dress that clung to her ass and tits.

“You’re late.”

Amélie smirked, her hips swaying as she approached him. “As I always say, patience, mon cher. Good things come to those who wait.”

She stopped just inches from him, her gaze dropping to his cock. Her lips parted slightly, and she let out a soft, appreciative hum. “Love seeing the strong pulsating throbs.” An astute observation. A calculated remark. Without warning, she turned around and pressed her ass against him, grinding her firm, round cheeks against his length. Her ass was a fucking masterpiece—perfectly shaped, with just enough jiggle to drive him wild. The fabric of her dress did little to hide the warmth of her skin, and William couldn’t help but groan as she moved against him.

“Fuck, Amélie,” he breathed, his hands instinctively reaching for her hips. But she smacked his thighs and was already stepping away, turning to face him with that sly smile of hers.

“On the bed,” Widowmaker commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

William obeyed, lying back on the plush mattress, his cock standing tall and proud against his stomach. Amélie climbed onto the bed, straddling him in reverse cowgirl position. She reached back, gripping his shaft with one hand as she positioned herself over him. All that talk about patience and this chick’s cunt told that she was equally as impatient. Slowly, she lowered herself onto his cock, her tight pussy stretching to accommodate his girth. William hissed through his teeth as he felt her warm, wet walls envelop him, inch by glorious inch.

“Mmmm! You’re so big~!” 

All that cock.

So much cock.

“Oh godddd~!”

That casual, teasing rolled back eyes. She did it on purpose. She wasn’t orgasming, she was pretending. But to say it wasn’t having an affect was also wrong. Her little gasp was authentic, particularly when his whole cock was inside.

The red dress was spilled over and hiding what lay inside. Any spectator could see what this cock was doing, however. Widowmaker was sweating.

“S-such a thick boy, hm?”

Her ass was right fucking there. Right in hand grabbing distance. Her pussy tightened and his arms remained limp. He groaned when she began to move, rocking her hips back and forth, her ass bouncing in that dress. Reverse cowgirl, her highlighted booty right fucking there and he couldn’t touch it.

“S-so how is it? Hm? Love it? Do you love my pussy?” She spoke with as much confidence despite the whimpers and gasps in between. 

“You’re fucking amazing…!”

Amélie’s hands moved to her own ass, lifting her dress and spreading her blue cheeks apart to give William a perfect view of where their bodies were joined. “Do you like what you see?” she teased, looking over her shoulder at him and still bouncing down on his dick.

CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! 

The dress no longer muffled the claps. It was there. Fully there. Her pussylips stretched around a cock that had changed her forever. 

“Fuck yes.” His eyes were locked on the sight of his cock disappearing into her tight pussy. Wanting to keep dominating, she reached down, cupping his sack gently in her hand, feeling the weight of it as she fucked him. She tried to make him cum first. She tried to do what every woman before her had failed to do.

“G-goodness!” Her accent thickened. Her instincts took over, her hands releasing his nutsack and her ass slamming down. Her arch deepened and holy fuuuck what an arch it was.

Widowmaker’s body was all deliberate curves and coiled control. Slender at the waist, hips sweeping out in a smooth, athletic arc—not exaggerated, just perfectly engineered. Her shoulders were set back, chest forward, and her lower back dipped into that impossible, unmistakable arch. 

The dress didn’t so much hide her as frame her. Deep crimson against her violet-toned skin, high slit, low back, nothing accidental. 

Nobody was actually supposed to fuck her. She often killed her targets beforehand. On the rare occasion, she may or may not have fucked them. It was the Widowmaker’s secret whether she did or not.

But this.

This most certainly had never happened. This overwhelming need to get fucked. This overwhelming desire of wanting to smile and slam her ass down.

CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! 

“Putain! Cette bite... elle est trop bonne! C'est trop fort ! Je ne peux pas! Je ne peux pas! Je ne peux pas!

“F-fuck! T-this cock...i-it's too good! I-i-it's too much! I can't! I can't! I caaaan't!"

That was what she was saying. That was what was ruling her. This cock. This giant cock. It was impossible. All the missions, all the experimentations, all the planning, and this cock fucking ruined her. Amélie let out a shriek of pleasure.

He smirked. She was cumming.

“Oh goddd, William!” she cried, her voice breaking as waves of ecstasy washed over her. She spoke his name in that erotic accent of hers. French and English, mixing and mashing as she delved deeper into her needs. Into wanting this big dick. 

“Your cock, your cock, your cocckkk! Mmm!! It’s SO fucking delicious!”

She kept going and she paid for it. Another orgasm rocked her body and her toes curled. Willpower—no, instinct and need pushed her to keep getting her cheeks clapped. She understood her body type and her ass and the reactions it provoked in mind.

William didn’t do a damn thing. Her pussy clenched around him and she continued to bounce on him. She didn’t hold onto his thighs, she kept a soft grip on his nutsack. Stroking it, loving it, and using it as an anchor. This was strange.

He smacked her ass for an answer—and an answer he received.

“Gerard taught me this,” she gasped out, her voice shaky but filled with a strange sense of nostalgia.

William put his hands behind his head. “He sounded like a good man.” There was a tinge of respect. For a man to bag this babe? Phew. Must have been a miracle.

Amélie nodded, her eyes closing as she leaned forward slightly, her hands stroking his family jewels “He was,” she whispered. “Thank you for honoring him.” She leaned down further, pressing a gentle kiss to his testicles. “He loved this. Simple kisses to his testicles.”

William’s breath hitched at the tender gesture, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. The fire inside him was too intense, too urgent. He gripped her hips tightly and finally—finally—he yanked her down onto his cock. She gasped. She orgasmed.

“William—!”

Too late. He thrust up into her with renewed vigor. Amélie’s moans grew louder, more desperate. 

“Mon amour! Mon amour! Tu es tellement profond!”

He fucked her harder and faster than before. She became louder and louder. She heaved, trying to calm herself, and somewhat succeeded. He smacked her ass again. No fucking wonder she was the Widowmaker. She deserved the title. 

Her toes curled deeper and her hair fell as her head hung. She shook with pleasure as another orgasm ripped through her. “I’ve never… oh God… I’ve never come this much in my life!”

Soon, she couldn’t slam her ass down. It was all William.

CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! 

“My love, my love—” She threw her head back. “MY LOVE, YOU’RE MAKING ME CUMMMM!!!”

There it was. Her pussy suddenly tightened like never before and William could feel the responding pressure in his balls, the need to release becoming unbearable. He thought he could last for a couple more thrusts but—

“You’re so fucking tight!”

He couldn’t escape. He didn’t want to either. He slammed into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he came hard, his cum flooding her womb in thick, hot spurts. Amélie let out a final, guttural cry. Her spine arched, her ass looked fatter and thiccer than ever, and then…she collapsed forward. She couldn’t handle it, it seemed, both spent and quaking madly.

“Oh gosssh…hnngghhhh…” She smacked her ass and like a robot she switched languages. “Oh putain... cette bite... cette bite... Je n'ai jamais... Je n'ai jamais eu une bite comme celle-ci...!”

Look at her. She understood exactly what she was saying.

“Oh fuuuuck...this cock...this cockkk...I've never...I've never had a cock like this...!”

Since Gerard, he surmised. William sat up and pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, his chest rising and falling as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Amélie,” he murmured, his voice filled with something deeper than lust. “You’re incredible.”

He groped her tits. Itty-bitty they may have been, they were still tits. He pinched them and she let out a little whimper.

The infamous Widowmaker—among the most vile, most wanted criminals in human history—looked up at him with yellow eyes that were soft and vulnerable. The first time since they’d met. “William…you’ve… you’ve made me feel alive again.”

His cock was still inside. Her pussy tightened and ached. She wanted more and she would get it. 

…

…

….

They were stamina freaks. They were addicted to sex. William, naturally so, and Widowmaker from the enhancements bestowed to her.

He was standing, his hands gripping blue-purple hips like a vice, his fingers digging into her soft flesh bed. They were face to face. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back. His massive thirteen-inch cock was still buried deep inside her, throbbing with every heartbeat, and she let out a low, guttural moan as he he fucked her slow.

Yes, slow. Not fast, not making her cheeks clap loudly, but slow. Forehead to forehead, eye to eye, breathing heavily and yet not kissing. 

That was until she orgasmed. “Mon amour…!” She always orgasmed first. In four hours, William had only came three times. He was completely and totally dominating her, which didn’t make sense. She planned this. She started the reverse cowgirl. She even suggested this slow, methodical fuck.

Yet William…

He always won.

“You think you can tease me, Amélie?” 

He grinned. Widowmaker huffed and puffed. There was still that fight left in her. “O-of course!”

“Then how about we do it my way?” He smacked her ass and gripped it tight. Coming as a surprise, the assassin moaned and suddenly her back was pressed to the wall, pinning her there with the sheer force of his cock. Her crimson dress was hiked up around her waist, her perfect ass pressed against the cool surface of the wall. 

He didn’t thrust, he was just inside. But the smack, the movement…

“Mmmm…!”

Her eyelashes fluttered. Her pussy was dripping. Oh fuck, she was looking forward to this. 

“You think you can make me wait, make me fucking crave you, and then just take control?”

Amélie’s yellow eyes widened, her lips parting as she tried to form words, but William didn’t give her the chance. He pulled his cock almost all the way out of her, leaving just the tip inside, and then slammed back in with a force that made her scream. Her head thudded against the wall.

CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! 

SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! 

The pussy juice from the obscene number of chain orgasms. It didn’t make sense. It was inhumanely impossible to dominate Widowmaker like this. She was trained and genetically altered to be able to withstand her orgasms.

“What’s wrong!? Huh!?” Slam, slam, slam! His cock kept going from tip to base, tip to base. The strokes were rapid. It truly boggled the mind. It boggled physics itself. “What’s wrong!? Can’t keep up!?”

Her hands clung to his shoulders as he fucked her with relentless, punishing strokes. She kept bouncing and shaking and orgasming. Words? Answers? Please. With thirteen inches of cock punishing her, there was no speaking, only gargling out moans and whimpers and gasps and not being able to tell which was which.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as he drove into her again and again. Her pussy clenched around him, trying to milk his cock, but he didn’t let up. He was in control now, and he wasn’t going to stop until she admitted it.

“Tell me, Amélie,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me who’s better. Me or your ex-husband of yours?”

Amélie’s eyes fluttered shut, her body writhing. Her answer made no sense. “CSHSKKMNMIIIING!”

William slowed his thrusts, pulling almost all the way out of her again. “I didn’t hear you,” he said, his tone cold and commanding. “Say it louder.”

“N-n-n-needdshh…need….scchhendnn….pleeeaseee…”

She was begging him. Widowmaker was begging him. Ha. He had won. He smiled to himself and waited. The tip of his cock still inside was being clung tightly. She still wanted it. It was only a matter of time when she wanted it deeper.

“Y-y-you…hngghhh…” The question, the question, what was the question the assassin asked herself. “You are!” Amélie screamed, her body trembling as she tried to push herself back onto his cock. “You’re better than Gerard! Oh god, my love—my William, please! PLEEEASE~!!”

William smirked, his cock twitching inside her as he gave her what she wanted. He slammed into her again, his balls slapping against her. “And my cock?” He wasn’t going as fast as before, he wanted to savour this. He wanted her to keep talking.“Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s… it’s the biggest I’ve ever had.” Amélie moaned, her eyes almost permanently rolled back and saliva beginning to fall. “Goddd, it’s so big…! It’s stretching me so much! I can’t… I can’t take it!”

William chuckled darkly, his hands moving to grip her ass as he lifted her slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. “Oh, you can take it. You’re going to take every fucking inch of me, Amélie. And you’re going to love it.”

Rapid thrusts. Orgasmic thrusts. Mind-shaking thrusts.

How could Gerard compete? He was triple his girth and double his length. He was a stud that had fucked D.va and Mei. This was the type of hung bastard that could steal a man’s wife with his flaccid cock alone. He was bigger, he was better.

Gerard was the prototype. William was the upgrade.

Amélie was literally convulsing as he hit a spot deep inside her that made her see white. The lewd, obscene sounds hit their peak.

William didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. He fucked her through her orgasm, his cock pistoning in and out of her with brutal efficiency. The once terrifying assassin was trembling, her legs shaking as she clung to him for dear life. Every bit of intimidation and arrogance she carried with her was gone. “I… I caaaaan’t…! I-i-it’s too much, my love!” she gasped, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies slapping together.

“Yes, you can,” William insisted. “You’re going to take everything I give you, Amélie. And you’re going to fucking beg for more.”

Amélie’s eyes rolled back in her head as another orgasm ripped through her, her pussy clenching around his cock like a vice. “Fuck! William! Please! I need it… I need your cock… please don’t stop!”

William’s cock throbbed inside her, the pressure in his balls building to an unbearable level. He could feel his release coming, but he wasn’t ready to let go yet. He wanted to make her come again, wanted to hear her scream his name one more time.

“Beg for it, Amélie,” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “Beg for my cum.”

Her pussy wrenched around him as she tried to push herself closer to another orgasm. “Please, William,” she begged, her voice shaking with desperation. To hear her tremble physically and in her voice...it made his balls twist. He wanted to nut in this woman right here and now but he wanted to hear it.

'Say it. Say it!'

“Please...please cum inside me… I need it… I NEED YOUR CUMMMM~!!"

William’s cock twitched inside her, his balls tightening as he felt his release building. “Here it is! You’re going to take every fucking drop of me.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Some hours ago, the Widowmaker teased him. She flirted with him. She made him cum in his pants. She humiliated him. Tonight, with the moon as his witness, he paid her back in full. All that cum that was once inside his pants were thick ropes that flooded her womb. Gerard’s seed was utterly forgotten and wiped out.

This was her new life. This was a new Widowmaker.

He filled her to the brim as he held her tightly against him. He filled her until she understood that she was officially a new person. Both Widowmaker and Amélie Lacroix and yet neither. A knot of personality that joined their skills, their wants, their histories, and were stuck together by William’s seed. 

Yes, he was the glue that kept this new woman together. In her subconscious, all she could do was thank him. 

The ballet dancer, the assassin, the sniper, and the woman in her thanked him with all her heart and soul.