(My attempt at a Wilford Warfstache x Female Reader, with some nice smut at the end.)

Drinking. Fighting. Flirting.

It was three of his favorite things, and why shouldn't they be? Wasn't that what life was really all about? A life revolving around that trifecta was hardly ever boring, and boredom would have been the death of dear old Wilford.

You, of course, wouldn't have known a damn thing about what he considered his holy trinity. All you had seen was some weirdo dancing on stage.

"Don't be such a sad sack, come on!" she cried, pulling you out of the corner of the club where you had been trying to remain inconspicuous. No such luck: your best friend Serenity would see to it that you at least tried to enjoy yourself. She had insisted on taking you out, after all, as she was sick of you moping about the apartment. She giggled, her pale hair bouncing as she walked with you towards the bar. She ordered two drinks: a spiked lemonade for herself, and a strong whiskey for you. The stuff tasted awful, and you knew that it did, but it was the only thing that would get you properly drunk.

"I don't know why you talked me into coming here, this place is a fucking mess," you cried out over the music.

Serenity covered her mouth and giggled. "I told you, I'm not letting you mope around!" She had already finished her lemonade and waited politely for you to finish your own drink. Then she grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you onto the dance floor. "Dance with me!" the tiny woman exclaimed. Really, she was hardly five feet tall, and as slender as a bamboo pole, with hair that seemed to almost shimmer in the lights. It was as pale as the rest of her, but she moved gracefully, all things considered. In short, she looked beautiful and perfectly at home on the dance floor. You felt like the ugly duck among swans as you peered around.

"I'm not drunk enough for this," you admitted, walking back to the bar and leaving Serenity to her own devices.

The bar was crowded as all fuck, but you squeezed your way in and ordered a double whiskey this time, on the rocks. You winced as you drank, hating the taste but wanting only that euphoric sensation of being lightheaded from the alcohol.

"If you so insist on drinking, madam, I suggest drinking something a little bit tastier," came a smooth voice from behind you.

"Fuck off and mind your own business," you spat back, not even bothering to turn and glance at him.

Big mistake. Something prodded into your lower back, something that felt distinctly like the handle of something. Or the barrel. "Now, madam, we don't want to go and say rash things, do we? Hmm?" You were prodded again, with what you could only assume was some sort of pistol.

Swallowing hard you set your drink down with a shaky hand. The lights in the club were blinding, and you were terrified of turning around to face this man, the one who currently had a gun pressed to your lower back. "I-I'm sorry, I just--"

"There we go." As quickly as it had been brought out the pistol was tucked away again. Then the man chuckled some more. "Don't give me that frightened look, madam. I wasn't going to shoot you." How was he getting away with having a GUN in the club?! Who the hell did he think he was?

You whipped around, ready to tell him off, but was startled by his appearance. Messy dark hair, chocolate brown eyes that seemed warm and inviting, and a bright pink mustache to boot. He pulled and curled at the hairs there gently, smiling down at you. "Fascinating isn't it? You'll find none like it anywhere on God's green earth, madam."

Of course he was talking about his facial hair.

"Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache, at your service," he purred to you, holding out a hand for you to take. But when you shook his hand he felt something slip into your palms. With a wink he added, "For your troubles." Then he disappeared into the crowd.

In your hand was a $100 bill of Monopoly money.

♡◇♡

What a fucking weirdo.

You remained at the bar, flabbergasted entirely. Serenity was... somewhere else, dancing presumably. You never had to worry about her, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

You, on the other hand, stayed in the same spot for a little while longer, staring at the paper in your hand. It was almost mocking you.

Monopoly money? Is this guy delusional?

Can't be, he pulled a gun on me...

You swallowed hard; there was no mistaking that sensation.

As though on cue he reappeared, unmistakable with his mustache and bow tie. He ordered some drink with a colorful umbrella in the glass and bobbed his head to the music as he drank.

What was his name? Wilford?

"Ah! Madam, are you looking for something? You seem to be staring at a certain somebody," he teased, facial hair twitching in his grin. Were you staring? You didn't know. Your face must have said as much for all of a sudden he was beside you, hands on your shoulders. "Now, now, don't worry. Just listen to ol' Warfie and you'll be swell. All right?"

"What the hell are you talking about and who the fuck gave you the right to touch me?" You took a step backwards, luckily not bumping into anything or anyone.

"Madam, words can hurt. You don't want to hurt people's feelings, now, do you?"

Yes? No? This guy was making your head spin!

"Come, now. Don't be such a wallflower." He offered a hand for you to take, which you did hesitantly. All at once he pulled you out onto the dance floor, twirling you with a deft hand. "Now, madam, dance as though no one is watching!"

There wasn't nearly enough alcohol in your system, but when a handsome man demanded that you dance, who were you to ignore his wishes? You danced as he directed: like no one was watching. You must have been doing well, for his warm brown eyes never left your figure.

"Bravo! Oh, bravo, madam, I am sincerely impressed!" Wilford cried out, clapping for you once you were finished. But his applause was drawing attention onto you, which was something you desperately did not want, and so you covered your face with a hand and made your way to the bar.

With a deep frown on his face, he gently pried your hand down and away from yours. "Why, madam, there's nothing to be so ashamed of. You dance divinely, if I do say so myself." Still holding your hand Wilford pressed a kiss to the back of it. "And would you do me the honor of being my dance partner for the rest of the night?"

Your first thought was Serenity; where had she disappeared to? But there was no sign of the tiny woman in the crowds of people, so... who were you to refuse? "I can't come up with any excuses not to," you admitted, swallowing. His grip on your hand was firm but gentle all at once.

"Splendid!" Before you could grab another drink- or even say a single word- Wilford pulled you back out onto the dance floor. His hands were warm, planted firmly on your hips as the two of you danced for what felt like forever. He twirled and spun you around easily; he was no stranger to the motions, no.

Despite the gun being pulled on you, you were surprised to find yourself smiling for the first time that night. Dancing ended up being a lot more fun than you cared to admit, but then again, your partner had a lot to do with it.

Wilford could not keep his eyes off of you, and why should he? You were a skilled dancer, no matter how you protested, and a lovely woman to boot. "Madam, I'm afraid that I have either had too much alcohol or not quite enough," he murmured into your ear. "I find myself smitten with you and we hardly know each other."

His breath was warm, laced with whatever concoction he had been drinking that night. The heat sent waves of chills down your spine and through your legs. "I'm... n-not sure what to tell you," you muttered back to him. All at once he stopped dancing and pulled your body up and against his own, holding you fast. "W-Wilford!"

"Madam, please. I would do nothing without permission. Do not take me for the typical male." Really, Wilford Warfstache was anything but typical. But he was nonetheless polite, regardless of his arms snaking their way around your waist. "Do I offend you?"

You shook your head. Again, despite having pulled a gun on you, he was all right. So what if he was packing heat?

He smiled, the ends of his pink moustache twitching upwards in the gesture. "Then may I be granted a kiss...?"

Hesitant, you blinked up at him, watching him staring down at you with his warm gaze. Before you could stop yourself you were already leaning in, gently pressing a kiss- to his cheek.

He seemed a little saddened but smiled nonetheless. "I suppose I got what I asked for, hmm?"

It made you smile gently. "You said nothing about a kiss on the mouth, Wilford."

"Bah! Enough of all this mushy talk! Dance with me!" Wilford cried, spinning you around once more before pulling you further onto the dance floor.

♡◇♡

It went that way all night. Dancing on and off, with your best friend nowhere to be seen. Had she gone home? Impossible, you were her ride! But you didn't seem to mind that you were no longer alone, and your dance partner was as good as any.

Wilford had not drunk quite enough as he would have liked, but he didn't want to be sloppy, either. So he took no more drinks that night, choosing instead to focus on you and your dancing. Your enjoyment.

But after another solid hour of moving with the beat of the music you were obviously exhausted, panting and leaning over, hands on your thighs. "W-Wilford, I don't... I don't think I can... k-keep going..."

"Then come with me, madam. We shall find someplace less noisy to settle ourselves, yes?" Taking your arm you were led towards the stage, which at first made you wary. Wouldn't someone stop you from approaching? But either the club knew Wilford well enough or simply didn't care who went backstage.

You had the sneaking suspicion that the former was the truth; Wilford seemed to be the type to go clubbing quite frequently.

Backstage held numerous doors, one of which you were brought into. Inside was a few furnishings, including a plush sofa, which you sank into gratefully. Wilford began to chuckle, seeing you so exhausted but seemingly happy with what had caused it. As he shut the door, the music was muted until it became nothing more than faint background noise. "Is this better?" he questioned you, sitting on the table across from where you were perched.

"Yeah," you replied, taking a few deep breaths. "Why didn't they stop us from going back here?"

"Why, madam, surely you jest! I am quite well-known around here, I'll have you know. I can come and go as I please." His smile lit up his face as he spoke. Well-known or not, you would have remembered seeing someone like Wilford Warfstache before, but this was your first meeting with him.

"Well, you're new to me, sorry."

Wilford chuckled, leaning over with his elbows on his legs as his eyes sparkled a little. Maybe it was the booze, or the lights. Or maybe there was something he wasn't telling you. "Perhaps," he mused quietly, "by the end of the night I won't seem so foreign to you, madam." With a smile he added, "At least, I hope so." His hand reached up and stroked your cheek, holding the side of your face. Slowly you could feel him pulling you in, and you felt powerless to stop it. There was hidden strength behind his grip, you could tell, but his kiss was gentle.

You immediately pulled back, covering your mouth and giggling a little bit. "I'm sorry, it's just... your moustache tickles," you admitted.

"Well, now, that I'm afraid I cannot help." He took hold of your hand and kissed the back of that instead. Gazing at you for a long moment he at last released your hand. Your pulse quickened, along with the bass from the music still thumping from the dance floor.

What was he expecting? Was he waiting for something? He said he would have done nothing without your permission, but was he wanting something?

Oh. Now you understood.

You leaned over, hands on his knees as you stood up slightly to kiss him again. It felt as though he were grinning against it. "Madam, are we trying to say something?" Wilford teased you gently, pulling away and still wearing that grin.

"Wipe that grin off your face and kiss me," you demanded, suddenly overcome with a rush of confidence.

"My, my, such brash words. I like your spunk," he murmured back, grabbing your head and kissing you the way you had demanded of him, feverishly, his tongue writhing against your own.

At last you had to pull away to catch your breath, seeing a glimpse of Wilford licking his upper lip and pulling the suspenders from his shoulders. He was quite serious about this. "Wilford, listen, I'm not usually one for a one-night stand..."

"Then where's the fun of it all?" His fists were on his hips, eyeing you hungrily. "Isn't that what life is all about?"

The way he spoke, it sounded like wisdom. But wasn't he right? So what if you had a one-night stand with a handsome stranger?

As you were busy contemplating your options Wilford advanced on you, backing you up against the nearest wall with his hands flat against it. "Madam I am giving you but one moment to tell me no, otherwise I am afraid you will be powerless to stop me." His words were rough and low, a glint in his eye that you had never seen before. He was more than hungry.

You blinked slowly at him before making your decision, leaning in and nibbling at his ear. He shuddered visibly before snatching your wrists, pinning them above your head and kissing you again.

Your tongue fought against his; you would not relinquish control so easily as you sucked at his own tongue. He seemed surprised but did not back down. He eventually won out, but you broke the kiss, panting with the effort. "W-Wilford..."

"Do we want a bit of the ol' Warfstache, madam?" he teased, grinning wide. His hips suddenly pressed to yours, grinding against you and making you gasp. "I shall take that as a yes."

Your head rolled back, the mixture of alcohol and lust overtaking your system and sending you spiralling into a lava pit. Your entire body felt feverish as his hips grinded against your own, and your jaw fell open to let out a kitten mewl. You did want him.

Chuckling quietly he slid a hand between your thighs, cupping your heat and admiring it for a moment before starting to rub. It felt ridiculously good, your hips slowly trying to thrust against his hand, wanting more friction. Wilford raised an eyebrow before sinking to his knees. You didn't quite comprehend the motion in your haze, until your skirt was slid up your legs. "Now, madam, going commando? Are you certain you wanted to be so standoffish?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

The juices were damn near dripping down your legs before he leaned in, spreading your womanhood apart and lapping up the mess you were making. His tongue was warm and skillful, rubbing soft circles around the tiny sensitive bud until your hands delved into his hair, tugging at it the longer he went on. "W-Wilford..." you managed, shaking at his touch.

"I do rather enjoy my name being spoken in such a manner..." he murmured to you, lips molding around your clit to suck until you cried out for mercy. But he would not stop, sucking harder still at the throbbing bundle until you were slowly grinding against his mouth.

The orgasm was not unexpected, as Wilford knew precisely what he was doing to you. It was the power of it that made your body tremble collapsing to the floor in a heap and making him laugh again. Wilford scooped you right up and settled the two of you on the sofa, you in his lap. Leaning in he nibbled at your ear, murmuring into it. "Madam, I'm afraid there is a matter to which you must... attend to."

There was, and you could feel it beneath you. Shifting your body around you slid off of his lap, hands already making to expose him before you stopped dead, eyes widened.

He was...

"Wilford, that's not going to fit."

"Nonsense! It's too late for that now!" He pulled you back into his lap, making you straddle him. Taking a deep breath you lowered yourself onto his length, stopping about halfway before you had to catch your breath. He was just too fucking big, and you knew there was blood.

But you were hot and slick, and it was taking Wilford all of his willpower not to start thrusting right then and there. Hands on your hips he rubbed them in a soothing manner, trying to be patient. "Take your time, madam, one cannot rush things like this."

But you were in too deep to quit now. With bated breath you lowered yourself further, until he was deep, deep inside you. The sensation of being so fulfilled had you throbbing again, and you slowly rose up out of his lap before lowering again.

His breath hitched, still hanging onto your hips, though his nails had begun to dig into the skin. You were just so deliciously tight that the thrust couldn't be helped. You yelped in surprise and he immediately began to apologize.

"N-no, no, Wilford, it's all right..." you gasped, raising your hips again and pushing them back down. You rode slowly, until the pain began to fade away and the pleasure took over. Only then did you bounce more eagerly, letting out more of the mewling sounds he seemed to like.

Wilford was gasping himself, breathing heavily as he watched you riding. Within minutes he already needed to climax but his deep breathing held him back.

"Wilford, oh fuck, oh fuck...~" you cried, nevermoreso than when he reached down and stroked you as well. You leaned in to press a kiss to his lips before orgasming the second time, walls pulsating around his cock and making them even tighter.

But he thrust in that moment, forcing you to ride out the climax until you whined and begged him to stop. "Madam, I cannot--" Wilford groaned, and it was too late. He gushed deep inside you, thick and warm, his hips still thrusting  until at last he had exhausted himself.

Running a hand down his face he covered his mouth. "I have not lost control like that since my youth..." he admitted, feeling like a fool.

But you smiled a touch, slowly rising onto your feet before plopping down beside him. "You're lucky I'm on birth control."

"I must apologize."

You shook your head. You were exhausted, panting through your nose at the aftermath of two orgasms in such a short amount of time. "It's fine."

You never saw him again after that fateful night.