anon req/synopsis: you went to a bar/club for the first time in LA for a drink and met the one and only maria victoria,(youngmiko) she flirted with you and took to back to her suite for……
warnings: smut! oral! fingering! grinding! (reader!reciving)
a/n: first babymiko fic kinda nervous 😮💨 lol uh hope you likey likeyyy 💋
LA nights always hit different — warm air, perfume lingering from strangers passing by, a thousand conversations blending into a low hum. You had only planned on grabbing a drink after your photoshoot, still wearing the outfit you hadn’t bothered to change out of: low-rise black pants hugging your hips, a cropped top that the stylist told you “photographed perfectly,” and your hair slightly messy but in that effortless, model-off-duty way.
You walked into Solstice, one of those bars that sits halfway between classy and reckless. Neon purple lights washed over the curved bar, and a DJ mixed reggaeton with R&B. You just wanted one drink… maybe two. Nothing crazy.
Victoria — Young Miko — leaning against the bar with a drink in her hand, laughing with two friends. Same signature look: oversized tee, loose cargo pants, chains glinting against her chest, blue-tinted glasses pushed up into her hair. She looked even better in person — sharper jawline, softer smile, that masc-pretty vibe she carried like it was tattooed into her bones.
You weren’t even a huge drinker, but you swear the sight of her made something warm hit your bloodstream.
You tried to mind your business. You ordered your drink. You focused on your phone.
But Victoria saw you before you saw her noticing.
Her eyes dragged over you — slow, intentional, and so obviously appreciative you had to pretend to look at the menu again.
A few minutes later, you felt someone step beside you.
“Hey,” a warm, slightly raspy voice said.
You turned. She was closer than you expected. Smiling like she already knew you’d smile back.
“You’re not from around here, ¿verdad?” she asked her thick accent noticeable, her eyes scanning your face.
You raised a brow. “What gives it away?”
She smirked. “You walked in like someone who doesn’t come here often. Pretty… but not pretending. People in LA always pretend.”
You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “And you? You pretend?”
“Only when I’m not talking to someone interesting,” she teased, leaning an elbow on the bar, giving you her full attention.
Her confidence wasn’t loud — it was smooth, controlled, almost playful. The kind that made you want to flirt back without thinking.
“Im victoria by the way, vicky” she said casually. “what do you do?” she asked
You resisted the urge to blush. “I model. Sometimes.”
She smiled at the word sometimes. “Yeah, I can tell.”
You two talked — not forced, not awkward, just easy. A little too easy.
She noticed everything. The way your fingers absentmindedly played with your glass. How you leaned closer when she spoke. How your eyes kept drifting to her lips.
“You’re staring,” she murmured.
“No, I’m not,” you insisted, though you absolutely were.
She tilted her head, lips curling. “It’s cute.”
You felt heat climb your neck.
She leaned close enough that you felt her breath near your ear. “You keep biting your lip like that, ma… I’m gonna think you want something from me.”
You exhaled softly. “And what if I do?”
She laughed under her breath, low and satisfied. “Then you should tell me before I take a guess.”
The tension wasn’t subtle — it moved like electricity, slow and addictive.
She didn’t rush anything. She flirted like someone who knew she’d win eventually, but still wanted to savor the process.
Her fingers brushed your hip when she leaned in to say something over the music.
Her hand rested on your lower back when she led you to a quieter corner.
Her knees bumped yours when you sat together in a booth.
At one point, her hand slid to your thigh under the table — slow, testing, warm.
“You okay with that?” she asked smoothly, eyes locking on yours.
Your breath caught. “Yeah.”
Her thumb stroked once, and your whole body felt it.
“You’re trouble,” you whispered.
“Me?” She smirked, leaning even closer. “You walked in here looking like that and you’re calling me trouble?”
“You started flirting with me first,” you argued.
“Because you looked like you needed to be flirted with,” she shot back.
“And how would you know that?”
She studied you for a moment. Really studied you.
“Because the first thing you did after you saw me was look away. Nervous.”
“And the second thing you did was hope I’d come talk to you.”
After an hour of flirting that felt like four minutes, she leaned in, voice dropping lower.
“I’m staying at the W tonight,” she murmured. “Got a suite. Big windows. Nice view.”
You raised a brow, heartbeat ticking just a bit faster.
Her hand squeezed your thigh gently.
“You should come see it.”
“You invite everyone to your hotel?” you teased, even though you already knew your answer.
“Only the ones I want to kiss,” she replied without hesitation.
Victoria noticed. She always noticed.
“Come with me,” she whispered against your ear, her lips just barely grazing your skin. “If you want.”
You didn’t hesitate this time.
“Yeah,” you whispered back. “I will.”
Her reaction was subtle — a slow smirk, a hand sliding around your waist, her tongue briefly touching her teeth like she was holding back something filthier.
She led you out of the bar with her hand laced through yours, warm and firm, like she’d been waiting all night for you to say yes.
Outside, the LA air was cooler, the streetlights glowing off her chain. She opened the car door for you, then leaned in, her eyes dark with heat and mischief.
“Because I’ve been thinking about it since the second you walked in.”
You felt shivers roll down your spine.
The hotel was only ten minutes away.
And the night wasn’t even close to over.
The elevator ride up was quiet — not awkward, just thick with tension. The kind that made your heartbeat louder than the soft instrumental music playing overhead.
Victoria stood close behind you, her hand resting lightly on your hip, thumb tracing the exposed skin where your top rode up. You could feel her eyes on you through the reflection in the mirror-like elevator doors — slow, deliberate, hungry.
You swallowed when her gaze dropped to your neck.
“You nervous?” she asked softly.
She stepped forward, her breath touching your shoulder, lips hovering but not meeting your skin.
“Good,” she whispered. “I like when girls get nervous around me.”
When the doors opened, she laced her fingers with yours again and walked you down the hallway — calm, confident, like she’d done this a hundred times… but you could feel, just barely, the tension in her grip. Like even she was holding something back.
She unlocked the suite and pushed the door open, the warm glow of the city spilling in through floor-to-ceiling windows.
The second the door shut behind you, everything changed.
Victoria stepped in front of you, one hand rising to cup your jaw, tilting your face up. Her thumb brushed your lower lip.
“You have no idea,” she murmured, eyes darkening, “how long all night I’ve been wanting to do this.”
You barely had time to inhale before she kissed you.
It was hungry — open-mouthed, warm, her hand sliding into your hair as she kissed you like she needed to taste you properly. You melted into her instantly, fingers gripping her t-shirt, pulling her closer.
She smirked against your mouth when she felt your breathing hitch.
“Tú me vas a volver loca,” she whispered, kissing you again, deeper this time, her tongue brushing yours in a way that made heat shoot straight through your body.
She backed you into the wall slowly, one step at a time.
Then her thigh slid between yours.
“Oh, you like that?” she teased, lips ghosting down your neck.
Your hips involuntarily pressed forward.
She laughed under her breath — low, pleased.
“Yeah. You definitely like that.”
She kissed down your throat, her hands exploring your waist, your hips, your back. Slow at first — then firmer, more claiming.
Her fingers toyed with the hem of your top.
“Can I?” she asked against your skin.
“Yes,” you breathed immediately.
She lifted your top off in one smooth motion, her eyes drinking you in. Her gaze dragged over your chest, your stomach, back to your face.
“Dios mío,” she muttered, stepping closer. “Mira eso…”
Her fingers traced the sides of your bra before unhooking it effortlessly. You felt her breath against your bare skin before she even touched you.
Then her hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples, slow circles that made your knees go weak.
You exhaled shakily. “Victoria…”
She looked up at you, eyes locked on your face, lips slightly parted.
You swallowed. “Victoria.”
Her hands squeezed your hips. “Good girl.”
Heat exploded low in your stomach.
She guided you backward toward the bed, kissing you between steps, her hands roaming your body like she couldn’t choose one place to stay.
When your legs hit the mattress, she pressed you down gently with one hand on your stomach.
You did — breathless, wanting, watching her as she pulled her shirt over her head. Her chain stayed on, her tattoos catching the room lights. Her abs flexed slightly when she exhaled.
You couldn’t look away. “fuck” you mumbled under your breath as you watched her.
She smiled when she caught you staring.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she said quietly, climbing onto the bed over you. “And I haven’t even touched you the way I want to yet.”
She kissed down your body — slow, teasing, torturous.
The sensitive spot right above your waistband.
She popped the button on your pants with her teeth.
You whimpered — actually whimpered — and she froze, smirking up at you wickedly.
“Oh, I’m gonna ruin you,” she said, voice low and thrilled. “You’re already shaking.”
She slid your pants down, then your underwear, leaving you completely bare under her. You tried covering yourself with your hands, but she gently pushed them away.
“No,” she murmured. “Let me look at you.”
Her fingers traced the inside of your thigh, slow and warm.
You exhaled sharply. “You’re teasing me.”
She pushed your legs open slightly wider.
Her tongue met your skin — right above your clit — and your whole body jolted.
She licked you slowly at first, long strokes that made your back arch off the bed. Then her mouth closed around your clit, sucking gently, rhythmically.
Your hand flew into her hair, and she groaned against you — the vibration hitting so deep you gasped.
“That’s it,” she murmured between licks. “Use me. I want you to.”
Her tongue was perfect — hungry but patient, focused on every tiny reaction your body gave her.
When you moaned, she went harder.
When you tensed, she slowed.
When you said her name, she held your thigh open wider and groaned like she needed more.
She pulled back suddenly, lips glistening, breathing hard.
“You’re not coming yet,” she said, wiping her mouth with her thumb. “I’m not done.”
She slid two fingers along your folds — slow, deliberate.
She slid two fingers inside you slowly, watching every expression on your face as she filled you.
You moaned so loud she had to kiss you to swallow it.
Her fingers curled, finding your sweet spot instantly.
Her pace built gradually — slow, deep strokes turning into faster, harder ones.
The sound of her fingers moving inside you, the way her thumb circled your clit, the low curses she whispered in Spanish as she watched you fall apart — it all hit at once.
“Let go,” she breathed into your ear. “Let me feel it.”
You came hard — shaking, gripping her shoulders, your legs trembling around her waist. She held you through it, fingers softening but not leaving you until your breathing slowed again.
You opened your eyes and she was looking at you, lips swollen, pupils blown, breathing uneven like she was the one who just came.
“Get comfortable,” she said softly, kissing your jaw.
“Because I’m not done with you yet.”
Your body was still trembling, chest rising and falling fast, the aftershocks running down your thighs. But she didn’t give you long to come down.
She kissed the inside of your knee, then the other, slow and deliberate like she was claiming every inch of you. Her hands slid up your thighs, spreading you open again with a quiet strength that made your breath catch.
“Still shaking,” she murmured, her voice lower than before. “Mmm… I like that.”
She crawled up your body, her chain brushing your skin, her abs tight, her breath warm against your lips. She kissed you again — slower this time, deeper, letting you taste your own sweetness on her tongue.
Her knee moved between your legs, pressing lightly against your overstimulated center. You gasped into her mouth and she smiled against your lips, proud and dark.
“Sensitive now, huh?” she teased softly.
She rocked her knee forward just enough to make your back arch.
Her Body Pressed to Yours
She hovered over you, hands on either side of your head, her body pinning you down. The weight of her, the heat, the control — it made your stomach tighten all over again.
Her lips brushed your ear.
“You want more from me, right?”
“Use your words, hermosa.”
“Yes,” you whispered. “I want more.”
Victoria shifted her hips lower, slotting her body against yours perfectly. You felt the warm pressure between her thighs, her breath faltering for the first time.
She let out a quiet, almost surprised exhale.
Your hands slid up her back, over the tattoos, to the back of her neck. She dipped her face into your neck, kissing the soft, sensitive skin until you let out a shaky moan.
Her teeth grazed your pulse.
“Oh, you like that,” she said, smirking against your skin. “I’ll remember that.”
Victoria’s hips started to move.
Her thigh pressed perfectly against you, the friction and warmth making your breath break into little gasps.
Her hand slid between your fingers, interlacing tightly.
“That’s it,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”
Her pace stayed slow but deep, dragging your pleasure back to the surface even though you were still sensitive. Your legs tightened around her waist, and she moaned quietly — her voice low, breathy, gorgeous.
Her chain hung down, brushing your chest as she moved.
“Look at me,” she murmured.
Her hips rolled a little harder.
Your stomach tightened again, heat building too fast.
“Already?” she teased, kissing across your jaw. “Qué rica eres…”
She thrust her hips just right — slow enough to be teasing but deep enough to make your toes curl. Her own breathing got rougher, her forehead resting against yours, her nose brushing yours.
She whispered in Spanish, soft and messy
Her fingers brushed your throat — not squeezing, just resting there, warm and slow, tilting your chin up so she could kiss you harder.
It made your whole body react.
“You okay?” she asked softly, pausing for half a second.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Please don’t stop.”
She groaned — her favorite sound you’d made yet.
Her hips rolled again, harder, and your moan echoed off the hotel walls.
Victoria wasn’t pretending to be calm anymore. The rhythm of her hips picked up, her breath stuttering every few seconds. She nuzzled into your neck, her lips brushing your skin with every movement.
Your nails dug into her back and she loved it — she bit her lip, a low moan slipping out against your collarbone.
“Fuck— you’re gonna make me—”
She cut herself off with a sharp inhale, grinding harder into you, her thigh slippery with the mix of your arousal.
Your legs tightened around her hips and she kissed you — messy, open-mouthed, deep — her tongue sliding against yours as the pleasure built again.
“Come with me,” she whispered desperately. “Come with me, baby—”
Her thigh pressed perfectly against your clit, her hips grinding in a tight, fast rhythm that made your entire body tense.
You cried out her name as you came again — harder, trembling under her, nails digging into her shoulders.
Victoria came seconds after, muffling her moan against your neck, her hips jerking once, twice, her breath hot and heavy against your skin.
She kept moving through it, slow and soft, riding the aftershocks until she collapsed gently on top of you.
Her body was warm and heavy over yours, breaths syncing slowly. She kissed your collarbone, then your jaw, then your lips — soft this time, almost sweet.
“Carajo…” she whispered, resting her forehead against yours. “You’re trouble.”
You smiled weakly. “You started it.”
She laughed softly, still trying to catch her breath.
“I’m starting again after we rest,” she mumbled but you both drifted to sleep not waking up till the morning.
The sun woke you up before anything else did — warm LA light spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the suite, turning the room gold. For a second, you didn’t even remember where you were.
Then you felt the weight of an arm draped over your waist.
Victoria was asleep beside you, face relaxed, lashes long against her skin, her hair messy and pushed back, her chain still on from the night before. She looked peaceful in a way you were sure not many people ever got to see.
Her body was warm behind you, chest pressed lightly to your back, her breath soft against your shoulder.
Last night felt like a movie.
You carefully slipped out from under her arm, moving slow, trying not to disturb her. The moment her warmth left your skin, goosebumps rose across your body. You found your underwear on the floor beside the bed, then your pants, your top — all scattered from how quickly she’d undressed you.
You stepped into your clothes quietly, smoothing your top, running your fingers through your hair to make it look somewhat presentable.
When you bent to pick up your shoes, you heard her voice — barely awake, low and rough:
She was awake now, propped on one elbow, sheets low on her waist, hair all messy and perfect, eyes sleepy but focused completely on you. She looked annoyingly good for someone who just woke up.
You swallowed. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” she said, voice still raspy from sleep. “I just… don’t usually wake up to an empty bed.”
You felt a little flutter in your chest.
You sat on the edge of the bed to tie your shoe. Victoria reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering on your jaw.
“You look cute in the morning,” she murmured. “I like it.”
You tried not to blush — failed.
“I figured I should go before you… you know,” you joked softly. “Regretted picking up some random girl at a bar.”
She frowned playfully. “First of all, you’re not random.”
Her fingers traced your wrist.
“Second… I don’t pick up just anyone.”
“Mmhm,” you teased, smirking. “Sure.”
She smirked right back, her eyes dragging down your body then back to your face.
“If I picked up everyone,” she murmured, “I wouldn’t have stared at you for ten minutes before growing the courage to walk over.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “You stared for ten minutes?”
She rolled her eyes and fell back onto the pillow.
“Don’t make me say it out loud twice.”
You laughed softly — and she smiled at the sound, like it did something to her.
You grabbed your bag from the chair, but before you could put it over your shoulder, she leaned forward and caught your wrist gently.
“Hey,” she said softly, suddenly more awake. “Wait.”
She sat up fully, sheets falling from her chest, but she didn’t seem to care. She reached for her phone from the nightstand, turning it on and holding it out to you.
“Put your number in,” she said simply.
You blinked. “You… want my number?”
“Yeah,” she said, like it was obvious.
Then, in that low, confident morning voice
“I’m not letting last night be the only time I see you.”
You took her phone, typed in your number, and labeled yourself with your name and a little heart — you weren’t sure why, but it felt right.
A slow grin spread across her face.
“You’re so cute. I like that.”
You handed it back, and she saved it instantly.
Then she tugged lightly at your belt loop, pulling you close enough for her to kiss the inside of your wrist.
“I’ll text you,” she promised.
“Today. Not like… in three days pretending to be busy.”
You laughed. “Good. I hate that game.”
She smirked. “Me too. I’m grown. If I want a girl, I want her.”
She looked you up and down one last time, eyes warm.
“You’ll get home okay?” she asked softly.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’ll grab an Uber.”
She hummed and leaned back on her hands.
“Text me when you get home.”
“I just ruined you for like… three hours straight,” she said, playful but sincere.
“I should at least know you made it back safe.”
You covered your face, laughing, embarrassed but in the best way.
Victoria stood from the bed, walking you to the door in nothing but her underwear and her sports bra, hair messy, eyes soft in the morning light.
Before you left, she hooked her finger under your chin and kissed you once — slow, warm, not rushed like last night.
“Bye,” you whispered, smiling like an idiot.
The door clicked shut behind you.
Your phone buzzed before you even reached the elevator.
V: “See told you i’d text quick 💗”
