A big dick really did change lives.
Hana Song and Mei-Ling Zhou lay nestled under the soft covers of the bed. Both holes were filled to the brim and making a mess of the sheets. Facing each other, asleep with Hana notably snoring, there was a sizable gap between them.
"Heh."
William was already awake. His cock hung low between his legs as he sat there on the bed, looking over his shoulder and watching them. Smiling, he decided to take charge of the morning. Getting up without getting his cock to swing was difficult. Still the man was patient and he took his time carrying his nude body. This huge cock was what brought tears to D.va's little simps, after all. Padding to the closet, he found his boxers and his black button-up shirt and scooped them up. He went into the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work preparing breakfast. He settled on making fluffy pancakes with a side of crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and coffee.
"Hana always needs it," he muttered. Whereas Mei was…she was okay with most things. A heavy and non-picky eater.
William brewed a pot, the rich scent mingling with the tantalizing scent of sizzling bacon and eggs. He hummed a soft tune to himself as he cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them together with a splash of milk, and a sprinkle of salt and pepper.
Next, he turned his attention to the bacon, sizzling away in the skillet. William flipped the strips and ensured they cooked to perfection.
He reached over to the counter and turned on the radio, the crackling static giving way to the morning news.
"... And now, for the weather update. It's shaping up to be a very cloudy day here in Tokyo City, with a major possibility of rain later in the afternoon," the radio announcer's voice echoed through the kitchen.
William paused, a slight frown forming on his face. He glanced out the window, noting the darkening clouds gathering in the sky. With a shake of his head, he refocused on the task at hand.
"Williamaaa~!"
The extra 'a' was endearing and obvious. It was Hana, sleepy walking toward the kitchen. William smiled and felt her hug him from behind.
"Me hungry," she grumbled.
"You're up early," he mused. "Sit down. I'll get everything ready. Oh, and brush your teeth please."
…
…
…
…
Across the luxurious building in Tokyo was the opposite of the peace in William and Hana's home.
"Target found."
There was a threat.
A renowned sniper and assassin lay on the rooftop across the house. Her deliciously toned ass was for display to the heavens and the heavens alone. No one else knew she was here. No one could see her without seeing death. Her form was lithe and graceful, cloaked in a skintight bodysuit that hugged every curve. Her complexion was a deep shade of indigo, blending seamlessly with her purple and black suit. Her long, midnight-blue hair cascaded down her back in a ponytail and her features were striking and chiseled, with high cheekbones and full lips set in a perpetually stoic expression. Piercing yellow eyes, devoid of emotion, gleamed with a cold intensity as they observed her target with unwavering focus.
Widowmaker.
The great sniper watched as the man that had tamed D.va and Mei cooked. She watched him eat with the two female Overwatch members.
The clouds above cloaked the Talon member. As a favour, Widowmaker had Sombra hack into their computer systems so that she could listen in on their conversations.
She had a clear shot. Right here, right now, she could end her mission. However, better safe than sorry. If she shot up the boyfriend of two Overwatch members, then said Overwatch members would forever be hot on her tail. That was a disproportionate amount of consequences for the assassination of a civilian VIP.
So she waited. Widowmaker waited for him to be isolated.
***
William dressed in dark jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a charcoal grey jacket. He checked his watch and adjusted the strap of his messenger bag.
"Hana, Mei, I'll be out running some errands for a bit." William made his way to the door. "I'll be back later this afternoon."
"Ughh, errands?" Hana rolled her eyes. "You mean work!"
"Company is money and money is money."
Another groan from Hana. A hand on her hip, the young brunette was in a casual ensemble of skinny jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a denim jacket. She usually sat on the couch and waved him goodbye. Today, she was feeling clingy.
"I'm feeling clingy today, can you not go?"
See? Clingy.
Mei smiled warmly. "Please don't worry about her. Take your time."
"Will do, Mei, and thanks for taking care of the goblin."
"I am standing right here," Hana retorted.
A beat passed. Mei's cheeks went red and she pulled William to a hug. It was a bit stiff but the message went through. He patted her on the head.
"H-hey, I want a pat too!" Hana protested.
"Maybe once you learn to not slap my ass when you hug me," William replied.
"That's…that's not fair! You have a nice ass!"
Chuckling, William and Mei ended the hug and parted ways. He gave Hana a hug and, as expected, she smacked his butt. He went down the stairs and considered calling a taxi.
'...nah. Let's just walk. It's a twenty minute walk anyway. Good for my legs.'
Tokyo was in full swing. Busy and loud and everything one might expect from an urban superpower. It was also changing fast.
In the last decade, with Omnics being granted citizenship and full participation in the workforce, Tokyo had become something of a utopia-in-progress. Immigration had surged. The GDP was rocketing. And someone needed to help the newly arrived integrate; quietly, efficiently, and without too many bureaucratic fingerprints.
That's where LinguaSanctum came in.
Located on the 47th floor of the Akitsuki Tower in Shinjuku, LinguaSanctum was billed as a boutique translator consultancy, its public face tailored to VIPs and their entourages. Officially, it existed to help the global elite—wealthy heirs, corporate executives, Omnic visionaries—assimilate smoothly into Japan's nuanced corporate and social culture.
Unofficially? It was a bunker in a war that never ended and William was one of the trusted few who knew it.
LinguaSanctum wasn't the company's only name either. There were several names and iterations in order to market it to different ethnicities and people. It was very much a borderline illegal affair.
Considering the money though? It was worth it.
He passed through two layers of security in the building: retina scan at the elevator, thumbprint on the office door. The interior was all dark walnut and smart-glass walls, serene and quiet as a tea ceremony. He stepped through the main floor and waved at Reina, the front receptionist, who wore a sleek neural uplink like a designer earpiece.
"Morning, William," Reina chirped, eyes not leaving her hovering data display.
"Hey, Reina. Coffee any good today?"
"It's terrible. As usual."
"I'll take a cup," he said with a wink.
"Masochist," Reina muttered, already programming the machine. "I smell coffee from you already."
"A second cup helps."
"Addict," Reina teased.
He continued down the corridor toward the boss's office. The door read: Janina Kowalski – Managing Partner
The name was as much smoke as the marble decor. Everyone on the inside knew Janina wasn't her real name, but nobody questioned her history. You didn't need to. She carried it in her bones—years of field experience behind her watchful eyes, scars that peeked from beneath the edge of her sleeve when she forgot to adjust the cuff, and a permanent slight limp she never explained.
She wasn't warm, but she was loyal.
And when she looked at you, she knew.
William knocked once.
"Come."
He entered. The office was minimalist: Japanese calligraphy scrolls, a bonsai tree near the window, and a photo on the desk of a young woman in military fatigues beside Janina, whose arm was wrapped around her. The frame was scratched and old. William had seen it before, but he still found his eyes drawn to it now and then.
The daughter's face bore a striking resemblance to someone he'd seen in Overwatch. But he didn't ask. Ever.
Janina looked up from her computer, pale blue eyes hawk-sharp, dark streaks of gray threaded through her short-cropped hair. Her accent was Eastern European, but soft around the edges. He suspected the accent was faked.
"You're late," Janina said flatly.
"It's 8:01."
"Precisely. We don't operate on ish here."
"Apologies. The thumb reader took three attempts."
"Seems you've gotten shakier, William."
She turned her touchscreen computer monitor over to him. A file appeared on the screen.
"Here's your next job."
[ Name: Gavril Malkov
Origin: Numbani
Wealth class: Tier-1
Status: Known threat profile; flagged by Talon
Protection level: Omega Silent
Objective: Disappear into Japanese commercial sector under corporate alias. Assimilation target. ]
William crossed his arms. "This guy made weapons."
"He patented weapons. Big difference," Janina replied. "Now he wants to consult for AI ethics boards in Osaka. His money's clean, but Talon wants a message made of him. Quietly."
"What do we need?"
"You're arranging his soft entry into the Shinjuku-Kyoei Hotel, under the name Kenji Matsuda. He's booked on tomorrow night's flight. You'll prepare the suite, vet the staff, and perform your usual walk-through."
"I assume I'm not to let him know what he's walking into?"
"Correct. This is one of our 'civilian-smooth' missions. No intimidation, no flash. Just smile, make the bed, and check the exits."
William nodded. "Understood."
Janina looked at him then, really looked. "You've been solid. Keep it that way."
He nodded once more. No need to be arrogant.
His boss tapped at her computer screen and turned it back over to her side. The file encrypted itself and vanished. "Report in when you're done."
"Will do."
He turned to leave, her voice catching him at the door.
"Oh, and William?"
He looked back.
"If you ever need to leave Tokyo, no questions asked—just say 'Courier Delta.' You'll be on the next outbound."
"What's this all about?"
"You know what it is about."
William stiffened. Whereas his boss, she had a ghost of a smile. "I understand, we all have needs. Just be careful. Not everyone will buy the AI idea if you keep being so real."
"...so you saw."
Janina waved him away. Along with the small smile was a blush. "Just go."
***
The Shinjuku-Kyoei Hotel was a sleek glass monolith ten blocks from LinguaSanctum's tower. Its lobby was all chrome and koi ponds, designed to impress and disorient. William breezed past the front desk—he'd made the arrangements ahead of time—and took the private elevator to the executive floors.
Suite 4903.
He unlocked it with a biometric keycard, stepped inside, and took a long, satisfied breath.
It was perfect.
Panoramic view of the city. Minimalist layout. Quiet acoustic paneling. The minibar had been stocked with precisely the kind of imported teas Malkov favored. Even the shower temperature had been preset to the man's preferred setting.
William walked through the suite like a man reviewing a stage before a performance. He checked the bed's stability. The corners of the rug. The escape hatch under the sink. The bathroom mirror—double-pane glass, behind which he stashed an emergency beacon just in case.
No cameras. No bugs. The room was clean.
He pulled out his phone and opened a secure line.
"Janina. It's done."
Her voice came through calmly. "On schedule?"
"Absolutely. Malkov will arrive tomorrow night. We're clear."
"Good work, William. Go enjoy what's left of your day."
The call ended.
He set the phone down on the dresser, gazing out over the twinkling expanse of the Tokyo skyline. Everything had gone smoothly. And in his world, that was rare enough to savor.
But then—
His skin tingled.
A rush of goosebumps swept over him, rising like cold mist from the base of his spine. His hairs stood on end.
The temperature hadn't changed.
The wind hadn't shifted.
But something had. A presence. No sound, no movement—but an unmistakable sensation. The pure, undiluted pressure of intent to kill.
Far away.
But zeroed in on him.
He took one slow step back from the window.
Bang!
The glass pane shattered and his body kicked into high gear, dodging the projectile. Thank god it was in this hotel of all places; the sound of shattered glass would have brought people over otherwise. Not to mention the bullet was deadly silent.
'Who the hell would try and kill me while I'm working?'
No question about it, however, the bullet shot from the neighbouring rooftop. Directly across. Damn. He needed to go closer.
Bang!
William dove to the side as the window behind him cracked like a skull. A third round tore through the wall just above his shoulder, silent and clean: no muzzle flash, no sound, just a hiss of displaced air and the smell of splinters.
'Sniper, highly suppressed and high-velocity. Is it armor-piercing too? Or wall-piercing?'
His instincts screamed—move.
He didn't question it. He didn't stop to wonder why someone was trying to kill him during a damn hotel inspection. He was out the door and down the corridor, his footsteps muffled on thick carpet as another shot ripped into the wall just behind him.
He hit the stairwell without hesitation. No elevator. That would be suicide.
'Who the hell would try and kill me while I'm working?'
Then again, the boss did warn him of potential Talon retaliation. It was why she only hired former military for her company. Only they could keep up with their agents.
Another round slammed into the wall where his head had just been. Shards of ceramic flew. Whoever it was had eyes on him. Real-time tracking.
No. Not eyes.
'Infrared.'
He grit his teeth.
'This is her! Talon's sniper! Widowmaker!'
…
…
…
Widowmaker exhaled softly.
Her rifle, the Widow's Kiss, was locked onto its secondary form, long-range mode. Her visor glowed faint blue as infrared signatures painted her view in layers of motion and heat. Everything around her faded to silence except for the pulsing rhythm of her target's body temperature.
"He knows. Lovely."
He didn't use the elevator. Most people would've panicked and gone down. Not William. He was going up.
No wasted movements. He was sprinting, stair by stair, pushing higher into the building. A survivalist with field training, not just a translator.
"Quick on his feet. Far too quick."
She watched him move through concrete and steel as if the building were made of glass. Her HUD kept pace, tagging heat blooms from his palms and feet. Every turn he took, she anticipated.
But then he passed the fiftieth floor. Her line of sight blurred. He was reaching past her visor's range. Widowmaker stood and holstered her rifle.
She fired her grappling hook at the adjacent building and swung forward, the cable retracting with a metallic snap. Her body soared over Tokyo's skyline, blue bodysuit sleek against the wind. She landed silently on the outer ledge of the hotel's penthouse level.
A perfect, silent landing, one hand down and one arm behind her.
'Penthouse suite with nobody using it. Perfect.
She rose to her feet, her visor scanning the open area. No sign of him. Just the glimmer of pool water, still rippling gently from the concussion of her landing. Her eyes narrowed.
No heat signature.
She crept forward. She tip-toed around the pool and toward the penthouse structure's glass doors. How did he disappear…? It was impossible.
She opened the glass doors and stepped inside carefully, rifle back in her grip, checking angles, doors, reflections. Nothing moved but the occasional ripple of wind across the water. She tried to sniff him out. Nothing.
'Where is he?'
She pushed into the main suite's living room. That was her mistake.
She turned sharply, but too late. He'd been behind her the entire time. The muzzle of a sidearm pressed firmly against the back of her head.
William's voice was calm.
"Infrared doesn't see what isn't warm."
She blinked, puzzled, until it hit her: the pool.
After chilling it, he'd submerged himself in it. Not a trace of heat. Not even surface disruption; he must have taken a deep breath and floated motionless, hiding beneath the thin thermocline of chilled water. Infrared thermography, even in Widowmaker's advanced visor, detected contrasts between living targets and their surroundings. The cold pool water had dropped his surface temperature enough to erase him from her HUD.
He had outwitted her.
"Heh."
She smirked.
Outwitting did not mean defeat. Her heel slammed into his shoes and William grunted. She swept at his feet, attempting to end this by making him fall to the ground, slamming her sniper into his mouth, and shooting his brains out. but she failed.
Quick feet. Her target was fast. That much, she already understood from his sprint up the stairs.
"Tch!"
Widowmaker put her sniper away and attempted to switch to close-quarter combat but she was too slow. Her wrists were seized and she was pinned against the wall, arms high up. Her target was in front of her. Big, tall, and handsome, he overpowered like it was nothing. She slammed her leg between his legs.
Holy. God.
It took everything in William not to react.
The emotionless soldier delivered another hard kick to the nuts, then another, to no avail. This man's body was made of steel, it seemed, and that included his balls.
She struggled. She grit her teeth. 'How did that not work?'
Meanwhile, William ignored the pain and the fact that it did work to scan her. It was her, the sniper his boss warned him about. The woman he saw on the internet once as a shadow. Wearing a purple and silver bodysuit with a deep v-cut and knee-high boots, she was sexy and alluring and absolutely not someone to mess up. She was strong though and his strength was beginning to struggle. Her nutshots from fucking fatal. His precious sack was aching.
He turned her over and pressed her to the wall. Her ass was directly on his crotch as he leaned into her ear and whispered, "What do you want?"
"...I have no obligation to say anything." In this position, Widowmaker could not retaliate. She understood her position. "But I am willing to compromise."
"Excuse me—" He was cut off as her ass really began to grind against his crotch.
"You have the size of a king. I felt it. Kings should be worshipped, no~?" Widowmaker sent him a sly smirk, her ass going in circles and letting his cock know she was there. "A king's cock shouldn't be mistreated left alone. Truly, I apologise. Perhaps I can…help alleviate our problems?"
What? Huh? Going from trying to kill him…to this? It must have been t-training or something. And somehow…he couldn't resist.
'A-are these pheromones…?'
Talon's lead geneticist, Moira O'Deorain, altered the woman that once was Widowmaker to improve her aim by drastically slowing her heart and turning her skin cold and blue. Her own human experience was numbed to supercharge what she felt on the hunt.
And, lastly, most discreetly, her cold complexion poured out pheromones that supercharged herself and her target to fuck hard.
Her hand crept up nice and slow and guided him into a poisonous kiss. Her body went up against his, curvy and slender. William's male instincts overcame his rational thoughts. His cock strained against his pants as his arousal spread—as he and Widowmaker faced each other and became one.
It didn't make sense. This wasn't supposed to happen. But the woman was desperate and wanting control and the man was horny and wanting control. Both ideals came crashing in the form of a long, deep kiss.
Widowmaker moaned softly as she felt William's hardness pressing against her stomach. She couldn't deny the desire that stirred within her, lust and a need for dominance. While fiercely making out with him, her hand gripped the protruding bulge firmly. Her tongue tangled with his, their breaths hot and heavy against each other's lips.
'What a cock…so much bigger than any I've ever felt~'
William's hands went over to rip the covering on her, the segmented black armor covering her hips, legs, and feet. She took that away first and then the purple bodice. Boing. Now, her bare breasts pushed against his chest, hard nipples grazing his skin. She could feel his erection throbbing under her, and it only fueled her own arousal.
Without breaking their kiss, Widowmaker reached down and undid his belt and zipper. Her fingers found his cock again, stroking it slowly before wrapping around it tightly.
Thwap!
She felt it bounce out. Widowmaker looked down, gobsmacked. Her professionalism kicked in as did her lust. "Impressive," she whispered. She continued to stroke his cock. "Most impressive~♡!"
"F-fuck…!"
Schlap, schlap, schlap!
Among all the women William had courted, when it came to handjobs, no one was faster than Widowmaker. It was like his cock was being pulled toward an erection. Widowmaker shifted herself to the side to let his cock soar—and watch how she worked. Watch as her hands pumped his cock with blurring speed.
Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—!
So much pre-cum. So much speed. William's balls churned.
Not to mention her hands were already wet. The cold was not for show. This assassin was built for sex.
"Do you understand now? I was built for sex~! I was built for men like you~!" The taunting was an honest remark in a sexy French accent. How could he not dissolve into her lust? How could he not join her?
How could he not want to cum?
Her other hand trailed down to his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. At this point, she was by his side rather than in front of him. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Don't tell you're already going to cum? Isn't a king supposed to teach his subjects? Or has the Widowmaker swallowed up another mate?"
Widowmaker—domineering and stoic. That was how she was.
Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—!
The momentary advantage gave her a load of arrogance. Her purple bodysuit was already moved to reveal her breasts. What difference did it make if she unzipped it down to where her pussy was and started fingering her? The answer was: there was no difference. Widowmaker was shocked that anybody could respond during her handjob.
"Y-you…nnnghh!"
Schlick, schlick!
All of a sudden, she compared him to the last man she had been with—her husband, Gérard Lacroix. His fingers were much smaller than Williams'. This younger stud was trained, muscular, tall, and used two bigger fingers without restraint. He spelled out letters while inside her pussy. At first, Widowmaker didn't understand.
"Anh! Oohhh~! Nngnhhh!" Low mewls. Suppressed noises. The second layer of her stoicism, unravelling. "Y-you…"
She didn't realize she was liking this.
"Can't handle it? Can the Widowmaker not handle what she dishes out?" William smirked, then slipped his hand out. Widowmaker reeled back, panting, her cheeks flushed. Her hand just barely kept a grip on the pipe sprouting from his crotch.
Slowly, William turned, showing just how long and hard he was. Truly, it was a weapon in the making. A cock that no man could ever rival within the world of Overwatch. Widowmaker wasn't a slut but she was an assassin. She had seen her fair share of penises aside from Gerard and William…
"Big?" he taunted.
"The biggest," Widowmaker wanted to say but she kept her mouth shut out of pride.
Click-clack! Click-clack!
Widowmaker walked in high heels and it showed. Still smirking, William waited for her to put her hand on the top of his shaft. Her stroke was akin to a lady taming a beast.
"Une telle arrogance." Her voice was thick in her native language. "La taille n'implique pas la puissance."
"Such arrogance. Size does not imply power."
"Prouve-le, alors."
"Prove it, then."
If Widowmaker was surprised by his French, she didn't show it. She retreated without breaking eye contact, tits in display and hips swaying.
She found the empty penthouse's couch, placed her palms on it, and bent over. His brief finger time with her cunt had already ruined that bodysuit of hers. Her pussy was unveiled and dripping.
"Come then," Widowmaker said. "Show me what you can do."
"With pleasure…"
He walked, cock bobbing. Widowmaker observed, pretending she wasn't slightly intimidated by this cock. Whenever she failed a mission and her pheromones flared up, she almost always killed her target before it got to penetration.
But this thing…
Her pheromones for once were acting up against her. Corrupting her as well as her target. Logic told her to kick his nutsack one more time, which she saw were red and aching, and finish him with her pistol.
The crown of his member flared up the moment her pussy touched him. Thirteen inches of cock. Widowmaker tried to be stoic.
Alas, that was impossible. How could she not be excited? She giggled. She waited.
When William thrusted and went all in…
"Ooooohhhhhh~!"
Moans echoed. Eyes were rolled back. Widowmaker was at his mercy.
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—!
William didn't hold back. This woman tried to kill. Playing it safe could mean life or death, and he chose life. He chose to fuck the shit out of her. His balls were red from pain. His balls had been aching.
Now, they clapped against her ass cheeks, heavy and juicy.
"Nnggh! Y-you! S-s-slow down! Your cock cannot simply—"
He grabbed her asscheeks, kneading them, and then finishing with a slap and rapid thrusts. Three of them that looked like one. Widowmaker couldn't believe it. Her eyes widened. She…
"Oh my Lord, oh my Lord, oh my LORD...!"
Widowmaker felt human.
He didn't fuck her, he destroyed her. Widowmakers were said to destroy mates after sex. Not here. Not with William. There was a large gap between him and any other man; him and Gerard, her departed husband.
"W-attends~! W-attends~! W-attendsssssss~!" She was telling him to wait and give her a second. She was expecting him to obey.
Widowmaker was tight—but not tight enough to order him around. Still, William did stop, only to let her breath and to give himself the chance to squeeze Widowmaker's ass cheeks.
The sniper's ass was known in the underworld as the most toned and round. William was getting to experience that legendary ass without understanding its full importance. That it had caused many men to be led astray and die as a result. In a sniper duel, no man could defeat Widowmaker simply due to that fantastic ass of hers.
"Haah…haahhh….nnggghhh…!" Widowmaker panted and struggled. She counted one hundred and seven thrusts from his cock. A hundred thrusts and thirty-seven seconds. Half a fucking minute and she had succumbed to something that she thought Talon had destroyed.
Pleasure.
Real fucking pleasure. That kind that built up inside her and was ready to explode. That was what the Widowmaker was feeling. She wanted to cum.
Yet William squeezed, groped, and manhandled those iconic booty cheeks. Same thing, different woman.
"What an ass." Slap! Slap! Two quick spanks to the left ass cheeks. Widowmaker moaned, arms weakening.
She couldn't understand—how was he so powerful? How was he so hung? Who gifted him with this cock?
"J-just what are you…?" she asked in that lovely French accent of hers.
"William." Slap! A smirk appeared on his face when her cunt clamped down on him. "Or your master, if you prefer. Now then—"
"W-wait—!"
"Get ready, slut!"
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—!
Widowmaker was unbreakable. Widowmaker was trained. That was what every scientist said before they sent out to kill her husband Gerard.
If Gerard was in heaven, then he would be distraught at how stretched out her cunt was. William's abs slammed into her ass cheeks like it was meant to be there. Hard muscles with a soft, toned ass. Colliding, combining, and leading to the two sexes to merge.
In this case, the cock was utterly overwhelming the poor pussy. There was no competition here.
"Nggghghh~! I-it's…! It's…!"
"It's what?"
The build-up. The pleasure. The sensations she thought she had lost. It was all coming back to her. Her legs were shaking. Her lips were opening up into a hasty, cock-addicted grin.
"I'M CUUUMMMIIINNG~!"
Her first orgasm in probably over a decade. The climax of the greatest sniper in the world. The woman who outdid Ana Amari.
Her pussy was gushing with fluids. Her eyes were full of wonder and joy and her pussy was positively full.
In that moment, she lost herself. Her muscles collapsed. Everything went to squeeze the life out of the penis that had invaded her sacred grounds. She collapsed onto the couch. Her fingers were twitching and curling erratically. So were her toes, which were no longer touching the floor.
This man had done something no man had ever done. Something no man should scientifically be capable of in the first place: breaking the Widowmaker. Turning her stoicism into a slurping smile, rolled back eyes filled with joyous tears, and a lazy, hanging out tongue.
"Don't call it quits just yet, assassin."
He picked her up, hands around her stomach, and heaved her around.
"Mmmmpppph~!"
The sniper couldn't resistant. Not one bit. Not as long as the gigantic cock reached the innermost parts of her hole. As long as he reached a place even her husband never managed to. He shoved her against the wall, the right side of her face pressed against it.
"Here!" Wham! CLAP! "It is!"
William was literally and figuratively nailing her against the wall. Her eyes rolled back. Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! She didn't swear, she didn't! B-but—
"This cocckkk! THIS COCCKKK!"
"What's wrong? Too much for the great assassin?"
"YESSSSHHH! IT'S TOOO MUCH! TOO MUCCSHHHHH!"
This way, his lips could whisper into her as he wanted. This way, his thrusts were shorter and more intimate. This way, he could fuck while hearing her squeal.
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—!
"CUMMMINNNG~!" Her moans became louder, her eyes becoming lustful. "JOUIR~! JOUIR~! JOUIR~! JOUIRRRRR~!!"
Cumming, cumming, cumming, cumming.
That was what she was saying.
Her moans grew louder and louder. All the stoicism, all those layers of suppressed emotion, they were finally bursting this. William knew he had her right where he wanted her—under his control, feeling the same desire that consumed her.
"Here it comes!" William announced. "Cumming!"
"OUIIIII~! FAITES-LE À L'INTÉRIEUR! FAITES-LE À L'INTÉRIEUUUURRR~!"
With a final thrust, Widowmaker cried out in ecstasy. She would have collapsed if not for her body joint to William's. She rode out the waves of pleasure, panting like a dog rather than like a stoic assassin.
"CUUUMMMING~!"
Because that part of her was gone. William's cock had brought back something else—something that had been buried deep inside her. Not even Gerard had brought this side of her either. Who was Amélie Lacroix? — many asked. Well, this wasn't her. This was simply a new Widowmaker.
William's cock throbbed inside her. It was there. It was happening. The final stage of her new self was happening...!
"Here's my load!" Once, she kicked him in the balls. Now, she enjoyed the feeling of his sack pressed up against her ass. Now, she respected it. Worshipped it. Wanted it. "Here's what you get, you assassin slut!"
Spurt, spurt, spurt!
Holy. God.
The hefty load was like an avalanche. Wet and hot and all-encompassing when experienced. Widowmaker felt her mind begin to fracture. The pleasure was overwhelming and she could feel her mental defenses crumbling from the slaughterhouse of her womb. Sperm swimming up to where her eggs should have been. They weren't there, but...
The sensation of being bred by a male. She relished it. She never thought she would ever relish anything after her husband. She was wrong. She was so, so wrong and she was so happy for it.
The bursts of cum were like nothing she had ever experienced. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she let out a primal scream as she reached her climax once more.
The trained, experimented body convulsed around him. She experienced wave after wave of orgasmic bliss. As she came down from her high, she felt a warmth spreading through her, and she knew he had given her something more than just pleasure.
Drip, drip, drip…
Cum and pussy juices escaped her filled cunt.
William knew as he pulled backed and watched her fall that this wasn't a one-time fuck. This woman had the intensity to look back at him. Long hair that was dishevelled, purple skin that was utterly flawless, and an hourglass figure that Hana would kill for. She was the pride of Talon and William had destroyed her with his dick alone. Changed her.
Now, she was his.
Now, the intensity in her eyes had gone from something gifted by death himself to one that was blessed by a man's cock. Even as her pussy was full of his yogurt-like seed, even as her knees shook and her breathing remained shallow, she turned toward him with utter infatuation.
Throb, throb, throb.
His cock poked her stomach, cum smearing her navel. She smirked and stroked the monster cock once again. William had not softened, so why should she?