Summary: Now that Smartass has discovered Twyla’s humble abode, he makes it his sole mission to visit and find out more about her. However, he’s about to get more than he bargained for. (Also, your girl Shy has written her very first smut drabble! Hope you enjoy! 😊)
Tagging: @weaselnerd, @lastofautumn, @spookiifi, @amberfox232 (If anyone else would like to be tagged, please let me know! 😁👍)
Credit for inspiration goes to @slashingdisneypasta A.K.A. @wicked1will0sparkles, @its-metal-mistress, @mosaic-marshlands A.K.A. @darlingpassion, and @trashogram A.K.A. @mantisandthemoondragon. Please go check out their wonderful content! ^^
WARNING: This contains yandere elements including possessive behavior, obsessive tendencies, stalking, shameless smut including masturbation (and Smarty cussing at himself for letting his boner get in the way of “work”, also because Twyla is so goddamn beautiful 🤣)
It’s been three weeks since Smartass and his gang followed Twyla to her home — three weeks of absolute hell.
When he had discovered her manor, he’d remembered to scribble down the location and her address, jotting it down within the pages in his little notebook. Since then, he’s scouted her territory thrice without her knowledge and has taken dozens of pictures, each one with her as the main subject. He’s taken so many photos, in fact, he ended up having to stop by the store after work just to buy another notebook (again) to put her pictures in, because the one he used quickly ran out of space. And it wasn’t cheap.
Now, what made these last three weeks hell, do you ask? Ask the Three Bastard Stooges, A.K.A. Greasy, Psycho, and Wheezy.
He knows they’re onto him, now more than ever since they’ve let themselves in on his nighttime routine. Work was even harder, and it was getting harder for him to come up with excuses for them to get out of headquarters. They all know Toontown like the back of their paws too; nothing slips by them. There’s a grand opening for a new business? Already checked it out. Roger and Jessica having an anniversary party? Boy, they’d love to send them a little surprise gift! That new batch of Dip already cooked? Sent and delivered on their doorstep.
Stalking Twyla to ensure her safety and trying to sneak into her home first? That’s a one-weasel mission, a mission they’ve partaken in as their top priority.
His teeth gritted, remembering the knowing looks –and envious, possessive glares—they’d give him every time he’d send one or all three of them on an “errand”. Stupid didn’t count, because he only sees Twyla as a friend, so Smartass didn’t need to worry about that. And he’s supportive of Smartass’s plans to marry her so as long as Stu gets a lot of bonding time with her in their future dynamic. That’s a fair deal. Plus, he can help keep his precious doll safe…and crush the skulls of anyone who dares to hurt her.
Psycho is a sneaky little fucker who’s already tried to interfere despite being on a tight leash, Wheezy wouldn’t stop asking him why these “errands” were so important or he “casually” shows up out of nowhere every time the Brooklyn weasel “spotted” Twyla at her favorite bookstore, and Greasy…that creep had tried to break in the same night Smartass tried the first night. He could only imagine how the hell that pervert scouted the manor first before he did. Bastard’s too damn good at his job, apparently.
Three weeks. Three exhaustingly long weeks full of botched attempts to sneak out, hectic business meetings, and so many days without seeing his beautiful Twyla or hearing her ethereal, heavenly voice. He’s been trying his hardest to be smart, to be patient, reminding himself to take his time and not rush the process. After all, if he moves too quickly, if he moves too fast, he will ruin everything he’s worked so hard for. His goal is to get closer to her and win her heart. But those three…oh, they’ve been making this so very difficult.
Twyla belongs to him whether they like it or not.
Smartass would never admit this out loud, but goddamn has this woman beguiled him. There’s never a day when he doesn’t think about Twyla and not seeing her makes his day unbearable. Now that he’s thawed some of the icy walls of her formidable barrier (and vice versa), he’s made significant progress. More so than those idiots have. Twyla is shy, but she talks to him. And when she does, he’s even more intrigued. She’s smart, witty, and even a little sassy sometimes. Hell, she makes him laugh. She lights his life up brighter than all the million stars around him, both the Tooniverse and the Human World. He’s never seen such pure starlight until his eyes met hers. He carries a lot of weight on his shoulders, and she takes it all away without having to lift a pretty, manicured finger. If she were a candle, he’d be a moth to her flame.
She’s so fascinating…it irritates him.
Why? Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be one of his most dangerous enemies? Why did it have to be someone as ‘exacerbating’ – sweet – reckless – selfless – maddening – captivating – and…and as gorgeous, kind-hearted, enchanting, and perfect as Twisted Twyla Toonz?
One thing’s for sure. She’s got him wrapped around her finger and it’s driving him crazy.
It’s a good thing he remembered to park somewhere close enough to sneak inside without being spotted by the mansion’s security cameras. During his recent scouting mission, he marked a spot in the forest within a 10-mile radius, a hidden patch of forestry that remains unnoticed and unseen. That happens to be one of the bushes behind one of the trees, thick with vegetation. It’s big enough to conceal his car. A perfect hiding spot.
Even still, he’s extra cautious when parking in the middle of the forest and uses the cover of an overgrown tree to hide him in plain sight, especially at night. Turning off the engine, Smartass took off his fedora and quickly stripped himself of his iconic pink gangster outfit, revealing the all-black dust-free jumpsuit he’d personally requested for tonight’s mission. Plus, there would be no dirt on the suit he spends many hours tidying to perfection. After neatly tucking and placing his outfit on the passenger seat, the Brooklyn-born mobster leaned over in his seat and reached for the glovebox before popping it open. Upon retrieving his notebook and a black ballpoint pen, he snapped the lid shut and flipped the book open, before reclining back and resting his feet onto the dashboard.
Photographs struck out between the pages, each one glued in place and dated in rich black ink. He stopped to admire the photos every so often, running his gloved fingertips over the smooth, waxy film while tracing the outline of her angelic face in each picture. His photos are nothing like Greasy’s, he’s seen what that fucker’s hiding (he took a mental note to investigate the pervert’s photos and obviously confiscate them). The ones Smartass took are only of Twyla and her locations; the cafés, the bookstore, nothing perverted. Spellbound by her beauty in each candid model shot, Smartass quietly sighed under his breath and smiled at his sweet babydoll.
Then, he cleared his throat. “Time ‘ta get ‘ta woirk.”
Tucking his pen and notebook back in the glove compartment, Smartass retrieved a Balaclava face mask from his suit’s pocket and quickly covered his face before exiting the car. Stepping out into the cool night air, he breathed in deep and looked from left to right, panning his eyes up and down the lengthy pathway of the forest to ensure that he was truly alone. ‘Tha boys ain’t here. Then, like a phantom, he slipped away into the shadows and disappeared without a trace.
He made sure to stick to the darkest parts of the shadows, hoping to hide himself from any critters that might alert his presence. In addition to that, he’s careful not to avoid being caught by the security cameras once he’s reached the gates. It’s already past 10:45, and he really hoped his gal was sleeping. She hadn’t been getting much rest lately due to stress and recovering after another of her “incidents”. He had to shove the memory out of his mind before he let his rage consume him.
Smartass took out a shovel and started digging.
Like Bugs Bunny, Smartass dug himself a tunnel and began crawling his way beneath the gate all the way around the perimeter of the estate, taking advantage of any other blind spots easy to avoid being detected. He knew better than to get cocky; one wrong move and he’ll lose this one and possibly only chance he’ll have of seeing her without being disturbed. Luckily, he managed to sneak by and judging by the familiar scent of lavender, he was getting close. He tunneled all the way to a corner, right where the balcony was. Having succeeded in avoiding the cameras, Smartass was about to climb out of the “rabbit hole” but quickly doubled back down after catching a glimpse of her at the balcony. How romantic, he is watching her from below like Romeo watching Juliet. A smile curled his lips but faded as quickly as it came. What the hell is she doin’ up so late? She’s supposed ta’ be gettin’ ready for bed by now.
The question answered itself when the wind blew a gentle breeze, carrying a plume of cigarette smoke across the yard. It wasn’t like Malboro; the scent was rich and refined, as if the product came from a high-quality cigarette company. Moving slowly, Smartass peeked up once more, hoping to take a glance at whatever it was she was doing. He found her leaning against the railway, arms folded across the stony edge with the cigarette held between her fingers.
She captivated him once more like the goddess she was.
Her eyes gazed out at something across from her home, and Smartass turned to discover he snuck through the graveyard. This was the first time he had come across the cemetery, and to be honest it unnerved him. It was a wide canvas of tombstones, a garden of graves that appeared to be tended to and looked after with great care. Not a single crack or any sign of decay lingered upon the stones. Since spring has begun, fresh flora bloomed from the grass in a lovely blossom of flowers. A mass of trees towered over the burial ground, their dark shadows cast over like otherworldly guardians. It was foreboding, and yet, there was something…melancholic about the necropolis. Like there was a deep, haunting memory residing the chambers of the dead that the raven-haired mistress who stole his heart cherished.
Is there a reason why she has a graveyard next to her home?
He watched the cemetery just a little longer, then he realized he was still out in the open. Twyla could still spot him even in his all-black suit and mask. Fuck! Startled, Smartass made a quick dash and pressed his back against the wall beneath the balcony. Retrieving his pen and notebook, he flipped open a page and added a new line under his notes.
Smokes as a habit — thankfully, not to Wheezy’s level (chainsmokin’ asshole needs to buy a new fire detector). Rich, unknown ‘band’ name. Tends to smoke late at night and seems very fond of cemeteries.
The night was as still as the grave, saved for Twyla’s soft breaths as she smoked. Smartass remained perfectly still, not daring to move an inch or make a sound. However, he could hardly contain the restless excitement of the fact that he was here again, at her house. And this time, it was just him. Everything is going according to plan! He’s taking all the rights steps into completing this mission, and all of his efforts will be rewarded! You know what they say; persistence pays off. He glanced up at her again, his eyes gazing lovingly with soft, tender adoration. Damn, this really is like that balcony scene.
We might as well be Romeo and Juliet, he figured, smirking in amusement. I mean, the settin’ is ‘tha same and ‘tha evenin’ is goin’ poirfectly. All I need is a change of wardrobe and ‘ta snatch Greasy’s notes from da poem. Hell, I can do a much better job playin’ Romeo!
Twyla broke his train of thoughts, letting out a soft, sleepy puppylike yawn that just about made her lover collapse to the ground, nearly blowing his cover from the extremely lethal cuteness overload that struck an arrow through his tough-guy heart. “Oh man, I should get some sleep now, huh? Tom’s gonna throw a fit if he catches me staying up late again.”
WOMAN, STOP BEIN’ SO DAMN CUTE AND GO ‘TA SLEEP! Smartass mentally screamed.
The demoness took one last drag of her cigarette and headed back inside, not realizing she had dropped her lighter in the process.
Neither did Smartass, until it bonked on his head. “Ow!” he whisper-shouted, hissing curses and stars danced around his head as he rubbed his skull gingerly. “What da hell—huh?”
His eyes caught a glimpse of something lying a few inches away from him. It glimmered in the moonlight, like a dozen crystals glittering like the stars above. Curiosity overcame his agitation, and he leaned down to pick it up before inspecting. His eyes widened at the recognition.
It was Twyla’s beloved diamond skull-encrusted lighter.
He remembered her owning a lighter decorated with a skull, and he took his sweet time inspecting everything from the polish of the onyx paint to the sparkle of the diamonds as he lovingly traced and caressed the hard edges of the tiny gems. “My goirl loves diamonds too, huh?” his lips pulled in a wholesome smile. “Looks like I’m gonna hafta’ start lookin’ for skull jewelry.”
It was so small, it could practically fit into his hand. He held it gently, albeit possessively. He could feel her warmth permeating from her hand, a warmth that surpasses far greater than the painful rays of unadulterated sunlight forcing its light upon the sweltering, humid summer days. That pitiless, blinding ball of fire dulls in comparison to the ethereal, heavenly glow of opulent brilliance shrouded in darkness whose humble abode he’s visiting.
Smartass pressed the skull of the lighter to his lips, pretending it’s her hand he’s kissing against his mouth instead of a priceless artifact his doll possesses, relishing in the remnants of her warmth and her scent. He’d love to keep it as a souvenir, a symbol of his success—
He stopped just moments before he pocketed the lighter and shook his head. No. He can’t. For three good reasons. 1: There’s no doubt the others would find it, and he’s not willing to share. 2: Wheezy’ll be the first to find it, and he’s NOT going to let that chain-smoking Clint Eastwood wannabe asshole steal it for himself. And 3: It won’t be long before Twyla goes around looking for it. She’ll have to buy a new one if she can’t find it, and the last thing Smartass wanted was to be an inconvenience to his darling because he got greedy.
“Eh, what da hell? I got plenty of souvenirs, anyway.” He shrugged and made his decision.
Smartass glanced at the cemetery again, then added another in his notebook. There must be a reason why she lives next to a cemetery. A personal connection, perhaps?
Tucking the items in his pocket, he pulled out a lasso affixed with a grappling hook and walked a few steps back, remaining cautious of his whereabouts. Within a few whirls, he managed to hook the balcony pillars and proceeded to climb his way up with careful footing. His heart pounded with sheer delight as he got closer and closer to the railing, so loudly it hurt. He almost can’t believe this is happening, finally after weeks of planning and waiting for the perfect moment to make his move.
He observed her daily routine from a great distance, and he’s so glad he did not request his informants to follow her all the way back home that one night. Despite the slight nuisance, the trip was worth it. He finally made it to the top, climbed over the railing, and stopped just a few feet away from the glass doors.
Smartass grinned. This is it. Tonight, I’m gonna see visit her. My Twyla.
Inhaling a deep breath, the crime lord placed his paw on the doorknob and slowly twisted his wrist. Click. The doorknob turned with no resistance at all. He blinked in confusion, then quietly laughed under his breath while shaking his head. Leavin’ the doors open? C’mon, dollface, you know better than dat.
He slowly, quietly pushed the door open…and practically entered the gates of heaven.
The first thing he noticed was the size of the bedroom. Twyla’s bedroom was huge. It was, in fact, much bigger than he thought. It was fit for a queen.
All of the walls were painted royal purple, save for the glossy floor made of pure silver, and decorated with Gothic décor that certainly fit Twyla’s eerie tastes. Smartass took the first step, transfixed as he inspected everything. The ceiling above him included a fan that was modeled with a peculiar, but stylish design; the lightbulb was shaped depicting the head of a bat and six black bat wings were its blades. In the middle of the room was a set of vintage black couches, each one tufted by pillows shaped like bats, moons and skulls. And the carpet beneath was a ginormous midnight rug embellished with cryptic and floral elements featuring purple flowers and black roses, bats, owls, butterflies, and a single silver skull surrounded by three diverse flowers all in purple.
Turning to his left, he spotted an elegant, polished onyx vanity mirror and drawer combination between two doors; one leading to the closet and another for the bathroom. He can hear the steady hum of the shower running, giving him a brief moment to relish the joy of her being in the room with him. The dresser was quite large, accented with antique silver handles and displayed across the counter was memorabilia of Twyla’s personal collection. It seems that her fondness for skulls had no limits; there were various skulls of different shapes and sizes, some were ceramic, and others were made from crystal. But for some odd reason, a few of them looked a little…too realistic. However, the skulls weren’t the only thing she collected. Numerous potion bottles and tiny crystal jars topped with corks preserved the remaining amount of space, and all of them appeared to be something of Halloween DIY figurines.
Smartass couldn’t help a soft chuckle, "Cute."
His time was short, but he wasn’t done yet. Pivoting his steps, he instantly became entranced with the mere sight of her sleeping chamber. Standing in front of him was a raised, luxurious bed that only queens sleep on, and Smartass couldn’t imagine a bed that was even more perfect than the one before him. The mattress was placed over a vampiric bedframe painted in lustrous, shining obsidian behind a small, tufted bed bench, and covered by a fresh clean set of silver sheets. Large, soft black pillows plumped against the bedframe patterned with soft mauve full moons, and the comforter itself was a velvet bedspread of mystical occult enchantments encircling a much larger full moon. At the center was a mysterious black cat surrounded by four black roses, its forehead emblemed with a small mauve crescent. A dark nightstand took the space next to left side of the bed ornamented with a purple lampshade lamp that was designed with Victorian craftwork and accented by a skull painted in ivory while two more skulls sat close together, and on the right side beheld a wide table that was obviously her drawing desk. Sketchbooks, acrylics, pens and pencils, and other art supplies laid neatly organized on the desktop.
Smartass shakily caressed the duvet, feeling the luxurious softness brush against the pads of his palm and fingers with belated breath. A heavenly fragrance permeated the lavish sheets, a fragrance he knew all too well. Lavender. Twyla’s scent. It was far more flowery than the rarest flower hidden in the unmarked corners of the world and much more aromatic than any brand of perfume could ever design. Smartass’s knees nearly gave out due to the powerful, exhilarating effect of his Twyla’s captivating aroma. His head felt light and dizzy inhaling the thrilling stimulant of floral radiance, yet at the same time he craved for more. And so, he nearly torn off his mask. Pink swathed his vision, and the scent was so intoxicating, he moaned. He just couldn’t get enough.
Lavender symbolizes purity, so rare to find in the trenches of hardship, suffering, and corruption. Smartass sees the world’s true face, how broken and torn it really is. He never thought he’d find anything, or anyone, genuinely pure until the day his eyes of golden pride, wrath and ambition met two celestial orbs of crystalline innocence. Despite their whole encounter, despite everything that happened, and despite the wynorrific meaning of her name, Twisted Twyla Toonz was a dove to him. A small, delicate bird pure as snow.
Lavender symbolizes royalty due to the refined representation of the color purple. True, Smartass was as materialistically selfish as any other greedy bastard. He loved the finer things in his life, as his office and clothing are garnished in the finest jewelry and platinum money could buy—or even be stolen. He was always a guy of class, even before he left New York. Besides the color of her eyes, Twyla loved wearing purple. And she looked damn fine in it along with everything else she wore. She’s just as classy as him.
And lavender symbolizes the one thing Smartass never thought he’d find in his life. True love. He scoffed at the idea the first time he heard it. True love? What a bunch of sentimental bullshtick! Sure, you find a pretty face and you fall head-over-heels, but they hear one too many fairytales or watch one too many shows to see the real picture. The truth about true love. Love hurts. Simple as that. He’s seen it like watching another cartoon on the silver screen. And all that talk about dreaming of getting hitched? It only meant one thing. Pain.
Well, that’s what he used to think. Now?
He wants her. He needs her. He selfishly wants and needs her to a point where any other love he had in the past was nothing more than a shadow of the life he had before. He never wanted anyone more than her.
The sound of running water snapped him out of his trance, and a wave of terror came over him. Oh shit, she’s done!
Mentally cursing himself for getting too distracted, the head weasel quickly placed the lighter on the nightstand and ducked right underneath the bed through the bench just as Twyla returned. She turned off the bathroom light and fan behind her and sounded like she was about to head towards the bed when she noticed the balcony doors slightly ajar. “Oh! Did I forget to lock them?” she yelped, hurriedly zooming over to lock the doors and veil the curtains. Unbeknownst to her, her visitor was silently panicking at how fast the situation had escalated and now had to come up with a new plan to escape without getting caught.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, dis is bad! How tha’ hell am I gonna get outta here with her waltzin’ around ‘tha room?! His mind screamed, quivering. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead as his heart accelerated in anxiety and increasing terror as his lovey-dovey shmuck brain finally began to comprehend just how badly he had fucked up, how this could have all been prevented if he had just simply returned her lighter, take a quick peek, and leave before his dame came back.
He strained his ears, intently listening to her next few steps. They began to sound louder, and he realized with a newfound dread that she was heading straight towards the bed.
Smartass was absolutely motionless, not daring to move a single muscle. Twyla was now standing near the bedframe, and the gangster mentally prepared for the worst.
His doll let out another tired yawn, and he heard her get onto the mattress. A few seconds later, the lamp light was switched off, surrounding the bedroom in total darkness.
The weight of the world left his shoulders, and his body was at ease. Thank Christ!
He placed a paw on his chest, feeling the thunderous racing of his heart against his chest while taking slow, deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Smartass repeated for the next five minutes, each breath growing steadier by the minute. He stayed where he was, underneath the bed while his doll was sleeping peacefully. Five minutes became ten. Ten minutes became twenty. By the time twenty became thirty minutes, it had been half an hour. He had been granted almost a whole hour with his darling, and he enjoyed every single moment. As much as he would love to spend the night here, with her, he had to go back.
With slow, careful movements, Smartass crawled his way out through the other side of the bed without making any sounds before slowly standing up. He made sure to keep his breathing calm before he looked over his shoulder to gaze at Twyla one last time for tonight. She was lying on her side, facing him without knowing it. The covers were up to her shoulders, her face nearly squished by the pillow, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Smartass couldn’t help but watch. There’s just something so…magical about her even in the quiet atmosphere of her dormant state. Her shoulders moved up as she inhaled, before slowly moving down as she exhaled.
OK, she’s definitely in a deep sleep. I’ll pop out, sneak underneath da ‘tree-hold’, and am-scray. He smirked smugly, so sure of himself as he began to head to the doors. Heh-heh, she won’t even notice I’m –
Twyla then rolled to her back…
…and Smartass’s eyes nearly bulged right out of their sockets.
The duvet was pushed to the side, revealing her body. And she had the body of an angel. Her body was one of pulchritudinous, seraphic radiance with divine, luscious curves carving her delicate form as if they were carefully crafted by the hand of Aphrodite herself clad in a black tank top and matching shorts designed with celestial patterns. Between small, shy shoulders hung a large, beauteous bust covered in pale fur, soft and soothing begging to be kissed and sucked by her lover’s ravenous lips while her sinfully sweet hips induced his greedy, grabby hands to touch and caress. Displayed in a majestic manner, her legs were blessed with two fabulous thighs of regal elegance coated in smooth fur. From her shoulders down to her ankles displayed her inky emblem in full glory. Her arms were coated in a variety of beautiful tattoos painting another canvas of beauty; her right arm carried the symbolic motifs of the moon and an eclipse of blue butterfly-like moths fluttering their way down her arm while her left arm was patterned by a black spider dangling in front of a single skull, the rest of her arm was adorned with smaller spiders, a cauldron of bats, webs, and tiny stars.
The hem of her top was rising just a few inches above her hips where it was supposed to be, revealing her waistline decorated with inky succulents consisting of a spider web across her right side and three small skulls trailed down her left wrapped in a swirly ribbon of thorns. Her left thigh was enchanted by a crescent moon covered in tiny sparkles carrying a single crystal hanging from the tip while three larger crystals hung below surrounded by three bats, and another silky ribbon adorned with skulls wrapped around her leg somewhat protectively while another spider web in the shape of five petal-less flowers merged into one stood in the middle. Two purple roses blossomed on her right thigh and left leg while coated in thorns, giving off the impression that she was a fragile rose protected in a garden of thorns as she was born from the stars.
Words cannot describe the sheer exhilaration Smartass was currently overwhelmed with. He cannot even take his eyes off the celestial, otherworldly creature slumbering before him, blessing him with her selenic, enchanting beauty with barely anything clothing covering her womanly physique. Twyla’s breathing was tranquil, her chest moving up and Smartass’s eyes accidentally locked onto her…His face burnt several shades of pink, hearing the wolves in his mind whistling and howling wildly. The fact that he was literally standing near her bed wasn’t helping at all. Holy fuck, she’s absolutely gorgeous! And her breasts…those HUMONGOUS honkers –
Smartass regained control faster than an anvil falling on his head. Nope. Time to go. He put his mask back on. As a last resort, he pulled out a black Acme portable hole and managed to hop back out to the balcony without making a single sound.
My God, that was close! He let out a sigh of relief, feeling his heart still racing from all the tension and gaiety combined throughout his visit. Remembering that his time was running out, he quickly but carefully climbed back down and pulled the grappling hook off the railing within a short distance before he turned and hopped back into the rabbit hole. Within a few seconds, he was back in the forest. And thankfully, nothing happened to the Dodge. With one hand on the back door, he jumped into the panel and closed it before taking a seat. Needing some air, he removed his mask and gulped the concealed fresh air. “Whew!” he exhaled, wiping his arm across his sweaty forehead. “All’a dat trouble over a goddamn cigarette lighter. What’s next?”
As soon as he said that, a new problem fell right onto his lap.
He felt something move, something…twitch. Smartass’s eyes went wide before he nervously glanced down…and saw a large bulge between his legs. Just his luck.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he growled, facepalming his blushing face before giving his boner an indignant glare. “Really?! Ya really doin’ this now?! It was only for a second!”
It twitched again, as if teasing him that he liked what he saw.
“How was I supposed ta’ know she’s gonna sleep nearly fuckin’ naked?!” he squawked, the tiny furs on his body bristling as his sexual frustration increased. It was only for one second, all right. And that’s all it took for him to now have to deal with this shit.
The head weasel growled again, trying to gain back some of the logic and rationality that was quickly slipping away from him. He could just ignore it and leave the forest, ignore the obvious hard-on that needed his assistance on the way back. Yet, the ache he was now experiencing proved to be much more persistent. Twyla’s beauty plagued his mind, taking control of every single thought he had which made his erection worse as a warmth of lust spread around his body moving up to the surface of his conscious. The way her fur shone in the dimmed light, those tattoos sparkling like stars as she slept…revealing her beautiful body to him, and him alone…
Smartass felt his suit grow tight. “Fuck this!”
Without a moment of hesitation, he practically ripped off his suit, bits of black fabric tossed around like the papers and documents in his office while he clawed his way out of restricted clothing. Every piece removed granted him a sense of relief, yet the pent-up frustration still lingered, and his nerves were still wrecked with the desire growing into heated arousal overthrowing whatever patience and rationality he had left. Once he was free of the suit, he felt the warmth on his body permeating from the interior of the vehicle and his muscles flexed within the darkness as he leaned back, trying to get more comfortable. His huge, throbbing cock sprung up with a loud ‘boing’.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just drive all the way back home, not like this. So here he was now, stripped naked in the back of the car parked in the middle of a forest where Twyla lived…
…with a raging boner. Un-be-fucking-lievable.
Smartass’s head lightly thumped against cool metal, took hold of his cock, and slowly began to stroke. He sighed now that he was giving himself some relief but felt the veins on his erection throb and pulse against his palm. His cock was as hard as rock. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered breathily to himself, even though he was alone. “I’m so damn hard…”
He stroked himself at a steady pace – not too fast, not too slow. He doesn’t want to rush this, finish and go home only half-sated. Why rush, anyway? He’s still got plenty of time, so he can sit back, relax…and enjoy. Smartass leaned back, closing his eyes as his hand worked on his throbbing member. Up and down, up and down. Every motion sent waves of pleasure rolling through him, the tiny ripples slowly increasing to large billows as they rose and fell in and around his body. His cock twitched again, making him shudder even as he kept going, enjoying every moment of what he’d describe one of the best – and naughtiest – jack offs ever. The vehicle was mostly quiet, save for the soft, heavy breaths and moans followed by light chants of his doll’s name.
“Twyla…” he whispered, completely gone in his carnal state. “Oh, honey…”
He no longer felt the steel interior of the van pressing against his head and back; instead, in his mind he was in his warm, comfortable bedroom with his back now against the plumped pillows. The lights were dimmed, save for the scented candles creating a soft, gentle amber glow. Rose, lavender and blossom perfumed the bedroom, each aroma blooming like flowers as the candles softly licked their way around the waxy paraffins. As if they were showing their own longing for the night of passion. Smartass took a slow sip of his drink just as the door opened, luring him to turn his head and smile at the newcomer.
Twyla gracefully albeit shyly entered, clad in a floor-length, luxurious rose bathrobe sewn in the finest satin that shimmered in the candle-lit room. The long skirt floated around her legs with grace as she walked, and her left leg poked out of the long slit leading up to her thigh. Smartass’s golden eyes deepened as they trailed the curve and shape of her leg before slowly moving up. The silky belt fitted her nicely and snug, hugging her curves just in the right places. The exact right places Smartass’s hands ached to see, touch and hold. Apparently, she could tell he liked what he was seeing as he heard a light pitch of her breath, and he watched her chest move up a little bit, the lapels teasing him with her lovely decolletage. Gold met amethyst, both orbs glimmering with love, affection, and desire. Twyla’s face bloomed into a soft blush, rosy like her clothing and her tail wagged.
Absolutely fucking adorable.
Smartass chuckled, “You gonna stand there or what?” he beckoned. “Come here.”
Twyla’s ears perked up, her blush deepened as she nodded. She walked towards the bed, never taking her eyes off his as he watched her while carefully placing his glass on the nightstand. He could practically hear himself grow hard from the rising tension of his need for her, but he maintained a steady amount of control. Not yet, he briefly glanced at his bulge from beneath his own bathrobe. Gotta get her nice and ready foirst. Twyla’s hands grabbed the soft duvet, prowling towards him as he opened his arms wide before finally welcoming her in his embrace. Smartass leaned in close, his lips slightly parted as they reached near hers before descending into a kiss. Her clothed breasts lightly pressed against his chest, their heartbeats bonding into one as he pulled her closer.
His lips would be so gentle against hers at first, taking the moment to relish the tender softness and texture of those plump, kissable lips he craved to claim for so long. Then, the warmth spreads its fire.
Smartass lightly gripped his cock, imagining her velvety netherlips clenching onto him. The tip twitched before beginning to flow with pre-cum, and fuck didn’t that give him more vivid fantasies. Fantasies of her slick pussy, soaked and dripping all over him as he made love to her, his hips moving with every deep, passionate thrust. Unable to hold back any longer, he began to jerk his hips up, meeting the quickened pace as he indulged further into the temptation as his state of intense, carnal ardor had taken full control of his body. He often wondered how their first time would be like together, would she want to be on her back? Would she lay on his bed with her shapely legs wrapped around him? Or would she like to be on top, riding him with her head reared back, moaning his name to the heavens?
He could practically hear her voice.
“Yeah, d-dat’s it, baby. I love ‘tha way ya feel around me, God, you’re absolutely amazing. Lemme hear ya, Twyla, lemme hear ya moan my name while I make you mine.”
A low, guttural growl escaped Smartass’s throat, “Mine.” He thrusted his hips up harder, the pleasure now mixed with that unmistakable possessiveness fueling the white-hot madness of his love – and need – for her. The word “mine” repeated in his mind over and over again, each one growing thicker with determination and certainty. His other paw flexed his claws, as if tightening his grip around Twyla’s waist as the thrusts became much deeper and faster, the billows now rising into powerful waves of love, wanton and passion sharing his subconscious with the ever-growing urge to claim her for himself.
Twyla is his and only his. No one else can have her. Not Psycho. Not Wheezy. And especially not that damn pervert Greasy! What does he have that Smartass doesn’t, huh? He can provide for Twyla. He can protect her. Hell, he can do much of a better job being the man for her. Smartass can give her anything and everything she wants. The mobster quickly shoved the thought of those three out of his mind, though the dominance of his desire only increased. He moved his head down, imagining his eyes meeting hers ablaze with golden fire.
“You’re mine, Twyla, ya hear me? I’m the only guy in this damn woirld who wants ya ‘tha most. I’m the only one who knows how ‘ta take care of ya, how ‘ta make you happy.” his accent thickened, his lips curled in a smug smile chuckling deeply. “And I know dis because I love ya. I love ya so fuckin’ much, sweetheart. And I’ll do anythin’ for ya.”
A knot began to grow in his stomach. He felt his balls shake, and he let out a quiet gasp. “Twyla, d-dollface…oh, shit…” he could barely breathe, the pleasure now soaring up to a reaching crescendo that left him gasping for air when the lustful heat enflamed him. Everything was hot, so hot but nothing compared to the incandescent flames of his cravings, his obsession, his love for her. His Twisted Twyla Toonz. The weasel’s pace was now unbelievably fast, his hips and hand moving faster than the speed of a cheetah as he was getting closer to the brink. “Fuck, I need ‘ta cum. I need ‘ta cum so badly…” His jaw hung open, now moaning loudly and shamelessly as his eyes almost rolled back to their sockets.
He could imagine her moans rising in pitch as her orgasm was building too, pleading for him to give it to her. To give her all of his love and claim her as his. And only his.
“T-Twyla, sweetheart…Oh, fuck!” his cock throbbed, his balls tight and heavy with relentless ache. He was close, he was so fucking close! “I love you! You’re mine, all mine!”
Smartass threw his head back, letting out a loud cry as his cock erupted like a volcano, streaks of thick white cum shooting out of the tip. His whole body trembled, every nerve and muscle quivering in absolute, sheer euphoria overwhelming him blissfully as he kept stroking his cock. Ribbons of his semen flew up and around, splattering everywhere. The seat, the floor, and even on his hips and chest. “Yeah, baby! Take it!” he shouted, his mind still trapped in the world of his fantasy as he imagined unleashing his load deep inside of her. He grinned lewdly, wondering what sorts of adorable noises she would make as he’d come, filling her up. Making her his. His cock twitched from overstimulation, so he slowed down his pace with shaky breaths as he basked in the last few moments of an incredible orgasm. The intensity dissipated, and his breathing was now steady and controlled.
Wait. Didn’t Slimy say that he’s stopping by to check on the Dodge tomorrow? Smartass saw the mess, and glowered. “Ah, shit.”
