#as a model

I can watch him dance all day...... So smooth, so effortless.. 😍

Source

look at this LOOK AT THIS I swear the algorithm is spying on us LMAO because WOW!!!

PROFESSIONAL MODEL!DAVE YORK!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S HIM!!!!!

OMG!!!1!!11 baby yess!!! How did it know?!!!

Warning: this is fun bullshit okay.

Like imagine being front row at NYFW completely bored at the Gucci show cause the torn shirts?? So 2008, it’s lame and you definitely just finished posting what a bore it was on your Insta story. You’ll have to have your dad buy your a new Range Rover to make up for how much you’re suffering.

Then he comes out and holy fuck it’s Dave Fucking York strutting down the cat walk and you make sure to sit straight and push your boobs up a bit because you’ve always dreamed of catching this man’s attention. He’s like GQ’s sexiest man alive and single and why wouldn’t you try? After all, you’ve heard older men can do it better and you definitely would let Dave York.

He makes his way down the runway and his eyes land on you. A smirk comes across his face as he makes his way towards your end in his Gucci flip flops. He winks at you as he stops in front of you to pose, his eyes take over you body and you feel the heat pulling in between your thighs. He gives you another appreciative glance before strutting away the slapping of his Gucci sandals following him.

It doesn’t take long after he disappears that a security guard comes telling you to follow him backstage that a certain Mr. York had asked for your presence. You smirk at the other girls around you flipping your hair as you follow behind the man.

You walk into Dave’s dressing room finding him dressed in a robe, Gucci sandals still on and propped on his vanity, as he swats a stylist’s hand away from his hair. “I swear I’ll murder you if you touch my hair again,” he growls out and you see the ladies face turn pale. He turns and see you and immediately smile, “I’m joking I wouldn’t,” he turned to the woman face turning serious as he whispers threateningly, “Seriously watch it.”

He greets you, pulling you into his lap and letting you know he’s been thinking of you since he saw you on the runway. Some bullshit about love at first sight. You didn’t care, you let him nuzzle your neck and watched him yell at more people and make his assistant cry before firing him for putting pecans in his oatmeal. The horror.

You end up at his penthouse. You both had practically fucked in the back of his limo, your lipstick smeared and dress disheveled. He’s showing you his great view of the city on his balcony because he had to brag before fucking you. All you can think about is cock so you end up getting on your knees and giving him the sloppiest head in your life that had him cumming down your throat in no time. Next thing you know he has you bent over the balcony fucking you with your dress shoved on your hips as you call him daddy.

Fuck were they right about older men doing you better and Dave was definitely still in his prime with the amount of times he made you scream his name. You knew you’d see that stupid smirk and dumb Gucci sandals in your mind for days.

You wake up the next day to him telling you “Baby you’re famous” as he shows you an article with pictures of your shenanigans all over the news. You feel the heat burn in your cheeks as you see the images of you on your knees, bent over the balcony, the different looks of pleasure.

You then look at Dave and smirk at him, “We should frame it, I look fantastic sucking you off. Remember that now that I’m famous.”

River Phoenix Photo by Nancy Ellison (1988)