#((ayyyyyy))

| Lando Norris x Reader.

౨ৎ Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader. ౨ৎ Warnings: Smut 18+ Content, finger sucking, fingering, praise comforting, teasing, swearing, plot then porn, quite a long build up soz. (Not proofread so I may be missing a lot of warnings.) ౨ৎ Summary: In which you can’t help but tease Lando all day long wearing the one dress you know is enough to make him lose control. No matter what.

౨ৎ Note: hellooo! I can’t believe I’m doing a smut after ages. This is probably really bad (sorry) I might end up deleting. I’m still not good at writing smuts I’ve only ever wrote maybe one on my oldddd account and it was YIKES SO BAD. And this is lokey out of my comfort zone.

Enjoy my love.

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Fuck. Oh how you were killing him. He didn’t know how long he had been staring at you getting ready through the slightly ajar bathroom door in front of the mirror.

The dress left little to nothing imagination. He regretted ever buying that dress for you- no not regret. More the dress was only for his eyes only. Because the way the black lacy dress hugged every inch of your body.

He was transfixed from the moment you slipped it on. Because no matter how much he tried to look away he was drawn to you. The urge to just rip the dress off.

To say Lando mind was a mess was an understatement. Filled with images of feeling the rough lacy material hugging your curves. Before, Swallowing hard and looking around the hotel room. Anything to distract the tension in his body.

He knew he had fucked up from the very moment he booked those dinner reservations to celebrate his win. Hell, he can’t even focus without his mind going blank.

“A little help with my heels?” You ask, coming out of the bathroom to stand in-front of the bed where he’s sat.

All he could do was nod helplessly. The words stuck in his throat. Before reaching for your ankle and fastening the delicate strap of the heel securely. Ignoring every inch of his body- telling- Screaming at him to touch you.

Before looking up at you. The glimmer in your eyes that told him everything telling him he’s royally fucked. His cock practically throbbing against his zipper. Like the bit of restraint he had was about to snap.

As you walked towards the mirror, smoothing out your dress. Lando took that moment as an advantage to stand up and place himself behind you. His hands quickly making their way to your waist, Fingers gripping your hips tightly. Before his chin finds a way to rest on your shoulder.

“You look incredible.” He speaks, Voice rough his lips just barely brushing your earlobe.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” You tease before looking at him through the mirror to take in his form.

“You’re killing me..” he murmured. Voice huskier, low against the shell of your ear. “your doing it on purpose aren’t you.”

“Doing what..exactly?” Tilting your head slightly watching him through the mirror.

“Don’t bullshit me” he groans out, pulling you against him gently your flush against him. The hard outline of his cock pressed into the curve your ass, letting out a slow breath.

you try everything in your power to peel him off, but lando keeps his grip held tight on your hips.

“Lando” you call out, trying to sound stern however a slight hitch in your voice betraying you. Trying to remind him about the dinner reservation.

“We can be a few minutes late” he muttered out against your neck making your bite back a moan.

He spun you around gently, your eyes meeting his green ones looking down at you. Faces mere inches apart. His finger flexing where they rested on your hips.

Lips crushing onto yours— hard— like a man starving. The fight now draining out of your body before melting into his kiss.

The kiss deepening, his mouth hot and urgent against your mouth like a man possessed. His hands drifting lower before sliding beneath the hem of your dress. Arching into him, his fingers sliding higher and higher until finding the edge of your underwear.

Moving your panties aside with a slight low groan his slender fingers finding the slick wetness that pools. His breath hitching before his fingers lazily circling your soaked clit slow, deliberately savouring the feeling of your neediness.

Earning a soft whimper from your mouth. Digging your nails into his arms through his buttoned up dress shirt holding onto him. Hips bucking slightly.

“dinner can wait..” he muttered out quietly before rubbing the bundle of nerves with two fingers slowly making you moan out desperately.

His fingers teasing your slick heat, enough to make you whimper, Enough to make your thighs tremble.

Before deciding to push two fingers inside your aching heat. The sudden pressure and sensation among you gasp in pleasure. As his fingers filled you.

Curling deep inside against your gummy walls with a slow thrust nearly making your legs give out. Holding for a moment, letting you adjust to the sudden intrusion of his fingers. The stretch of his finger making your mind hazy

“Oh- fuck!” You cry out against lando chest holding onto him. The movement of his fingers in out of your pulsing hole becoming to much. Now clawing onto him. Making your hips instinctively rock against his fingers.

“So desperate..and I haven’t even fucked you properly yet” His voice rough with desire his pace becoming more brutal as the minutes passed.

Making your shamelessly roll your hips against his hand as he coaxed all sorts of praises into your ear. Still while his fingers pumping in and out of your needy hole. His thumb rubbing slow circles on that slick covered bundle of nerves.

His fingers thrusting deeper, stretching you out just right. His fingers curling inside of you. Managing to pull a broken moan from your throat. Feeling the overwhelming pleasure take over. Knowing you were close.

Walls clenching tightly around his fingers like a vice. All while holding onto him like a life line. Nails digging into his skin through his buttoned up dress shirt.

“That’s it baby..” he murmurs softly. “Perfect” while kissing your jaw whispering encouragement and sweet nothing.

The orgasm ripped through your body. Gripping onto him tightly. Legs shaking. To the point you almost thought they would’ve given out on you but Lando kept your grounded.

But he didn’t pull away. His fingers still buried deep in your pussy. Purposely giving a few more slow and deep thrusts of his fingers in out making you cry out.

Only then did he withdraw his fingers from your hole. The sudden withdrawal making you gasp clenching around nothing.

His soaked slick covered fingers coming up to your mouth. He didn’t need to say anything, you knew. before wrapping your lips around his fingers.

Swirling your tongue around his fingers. His cock now feeling increasingly strained against his pants. His fingers retreating form your lips with a soft wet pop. His heartbeat now hammering against his chest.

Taking in your flushed and trembling state looking up at him through your eyelashes. It wasn’t helping him at all.

“So..no dinner then?” You huff out breathlessly.

“I’m not done with you” he says with a sickening but sweet smirk on his face.

“WHAT.” You scream out as he flings you over his shoulder.

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I lokey hate this soooo URMM I may delete and please don’t hate im not good at Smut and that whole concept sigh…

there may be tons of mistakes in this like spelling and stuff please let me know!

Requests are open! And any ideas you have let me know.

me and my moots spiraling over the same shit at the same time this is so slay of us

The amazing devil

Hozier

Florence + the machine

The family crest

Rabbitology

Crane wives

rayasianboy x fem reader.

WARNINGS.| !harddom ray, brattaming,choking, overstim, rough pnv/fingering, light spanking, degradation, praise, dirtytalk/possessive behavior, power imbalance(consensual), rawdoggin, reader cries, aftercare

DISCLAIMER!!! this is not real this is fiction and not intended to sound like a true story. the only person i own in this story is my oc.

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You weren’t supposed to be here.

Not tonight, not like this—lounging on Ray’s couch in one of his hoodies, legs curled under you, scrolling through your phone like you didn’t just spend the last two hours deliberately testing every single limit he’d set.

He told you to behave while he finished stream.

You said “sure, baby.” then did the opposite of that for fun.

You left teasing snaps in his camera roll. Pulled the sleeves of your tank top down just enough to flash the lace trim of the black set he liked. Left the bathroom door cracked when you showered, humming like you didn’t know he could hear every little sound.

Ray had said nothing the whole time. Hadn’t even looked at you when he came downstairs.

But now—

Now, he’s leaning against the wall. Watching you with a look that makes your whole body spark.

“You think you’re real cute, huh?” His voice is low. Dangerous.

You blink up innocently. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

That’s when he laughs. Just once. Quiet and sharp.

And then—he starts walking.

Slow. Controlled. Each step deliberate, as if he’s already planned out exactly what he’s going to do to you. And by the time he’s standing in front of you, the air is thick. Heavy with all the tension you built yourself.

Ray drops down to sit on the edge of the couch, legs spread wide. He pats his thigh.

“C’mere.”

You hesitate, your bratty streak flaring one last time. “Why?”

He tilts his head. “You really gonna make me say it?”

“I just don’t see why I should,” you shrug, smiling too sweet.

You don’t get the chance to finish that sentence.

Ray grabs your wrist and yanks you over, pulling you right across his lap like you weigh nothing. You yelp, trying to catch yourself—but his arm is already around your waist, holding you there.

“You wanted to play so bad,” he mutters, voice right at your ear, “so we’re gonna play.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, just enough to make your spine arch.

“You’re gonna be good for me now, right?”

You can’t help it—you laugh. A little breathless, a little defiant. “You wish, Ray.”

Wrong move.

He tightens his grip, and suddenly his other hand is sliding under your hoodie, rough and hot and unforgiving, dragging along your stomach, up to your bra.

“You know what the problem is?” he says quietly, dragging your panties down with his knuckles. “You like being bad. You like pissing me off. Because you want me to do this.”

You feel it before you register it—his fingers curling around your throat from behind, not squeezing yet, just letting you feel how close he is to snapping.

“I should ruin you.”

You whimper.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

You nod, already dizzy.

“You want me to make you cry, baby?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “You want to be shaking and begging and too dumb to speak?”

Your thighs are clenching. You nod again, desperate now.

Ray smiles.

“Then be a good girl.”

Ray doesn’t give you a second to breathe.

As soon as he hears that little whimper, he pushes you off his lap and onto your back on the couch, climbing over you with one knee between your thighs, hoodie bunched around your ribs, hands greedy like he’s waited weeks for this.

“Take it off,” he mutters.

You hesitate. He leans down—grabs your jaw.

“Off.”

Your hands are shaking as you strip his hoodie off. Underneath, you’re wearing exactly what he thought: black lace, thin straps, tight fit, bought just to piss him off.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging a thumb under the hem of your bra. “You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You bite your lip.

“I said,” his hand tightens on your jaw, “didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I knew.”

His hand slides lower, slow and purposeful, until it’s pressed against your panties—completely soaked.

Ray smiles like the devil. “Of course you did.”

He yanks them down in one smooth motion, baring you completely. You squirm, but he grabs your thighs and spreads them wide.

“You’re dripping,” he says, voice low, amused. “Already?”

“You’ve been teasing me all night—”

“No,” he cuts you off. “You’ve been teasing me. You were trying to get fucked, weren’t you?”

You don’t answer.

He moves fast—two fingers shoved inside you, curling deep right off the bat. You gasp, hips jerking, but he just pins you down harder with his free hand on your throat.

“You don’t come,” he warns, voice low and calm, “until I say.”

You nod frantically.

Ray leans down between your thighs, and for a second you think he’s going to give you a break.

But then he licks you—flat tongue, slow, from your entrance up to your clit—and you choke on a moan.

He hums against you like he’s satisfied. “Taste how needy you are?”

You nod, breathless. Your hips twitch up, desperate.

“Uh-uh,” he says, lifting his head just enough to glare at you. “I want you to beg.”

“I—I need you, Ray, please—”

“Not good enough,” he mutters, and goes right back to it.

Mouth on your clit. Fingers working you open, fast and rough and cruel, curling at just the right angle. You’re gasping now, hands grabbing at the couch cushions, stomach tight with how close you are.

“Ray, please—please, I’m gonna—”

And then he stops.

You whine—loud—but he’s already dragging you up by the wrist and flipping you over onto your knees, ass in the air, head pressed to the cushions.

“Did I say you could come?”

“N-no—”

“Then don’t act like a good girl when you haven’t earned it.”

He spanks you—hard. Once, twice. The sound echoes.

“You like this?” he growls, landing another slap. “You like being my dumb little toy?”

You’re crying out now, voice cracking. “Yes—yes, I do—!”

“You’re gonna come when I tell you. And not a second before.”

Then he slides his fingers back in, rougher now. Thrusting them in hard, curling with purpose, dragging filthy sounds out of you while he murmurs right against your ear:

“Say it. Say you’re my good girl.”

You’re panting. Wrecked. Half-mad from being denied.

“Say it.”

“I’m—your good girl, I’m—I’m yours—”

“Beg me.”

“Please, Ray—I can’t, please let me come, I need it, I need you—”

He grins. And finally—

“Then come for me.”

You come with a sob.

Loud, broken, body shaking in his grip as your orgasm rips through you—and Ray watches every second of it with that dangerous, satisfied smirk. Fingers still deep inside you, knuckles soaked, eyes locked on your face while you ride it out.

But he doesn’t stop.

You’re still trembling, hips twitching, voice cracking from overstimulation when he curls his fingers again, slower this time—but deeper. Meaner.

“Wha—Ray—nghh—I just—”

“Oh, you thought I was done?” he says, voice low, mocking. “That was one. You’ve got more in you.”

You try to push his hand away. He grabs your wrist with his free hand, pins it behind your back.

“You were such a brat earlier,” he murmurs, nipping at your shoulder as he starts fingering you again. “Now you’re gonna be my good girl and take everything I give you.”

“Ray—I c-can’t—”

“Yes you can.”

He leans in, lips at your ear.

“You’re gonna come for me again. And again. Until you’re crying. Until you forget your own name. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Your voice is barely a whisper. “Yes…”

“Then take it.”

His hand is merciless. Fingers pumping in deep and fast, the angle punishing, your clit throbbing with every brush of his knuckles. You're gasping for air, mouth open, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as your second orgasm builds too fast to control.

“Look at you,” he breathes, “already falling apart.”

He wraps a hand around your throat again—not too tight, just enough to make your head spin—and fuck, it’s too much, it’s perfect, your body clenching around his fingers while he mutters right against your skin:

“Such a filthy little brat, begging to be ruined. You like that I treat you like this? Like a fucktoy?”

You moan helplessly. “Yes—please—more—”

And he gives it to you. Relentless pressure, overstimulating friction, choking, dirty talk in your ear like he’s been holding it in for hours—

“Come again,” he growls. “Be my good girl and come again.”

You scream as it hits.

Your whole body seizes up, thighs shaking violently, the second orgasm ripping through you twice as hard. Your legs give out, your hands claw at the couch, and your voice is raw when you sob out his name like a prayer.

But even now—he’s not done.

You’re wrecked.

Shaking. Breathless. Face-down in the cushions with your legs spread, dripping and sensitive and barely able to speak. But Ray doesn’t stop. He just shifts—pulls his fingers out slow, watching the way your body clenches around nothing.

He grabs your hips. Hard.

“You think I’m done with you?” he mutters, dragging his sweats down. “You act like a little brat, tease me all night, then cry the second I touch you?”

You whimper something unintelligible.

He slaps your ass again—sharp, fast.

“Use your words.”

“N-no,” you manage, barely.

“No what?”

“No—I don’t want you to stop—please…”

Ray laughs under his breath, dark and low.

“That’s more like it.”

You don’t see it, but you feel it—the way he lines himself up behind you. The thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You suck in a breath, still twitching from the last orgasm, and he pauses just long enough to say:

“You take it like a good girl,” he whispers. “All of it.”

And then—he pushes in.

You gasp, one hand flying to grab the back of the couch as he stretches you open, slow but deep, inch by inch until you’re shaking underneath him.

“Fuuuck,” Ray hisses through his teeth. “You’re still so tight.”

You moan loud—half pain, half pleasure—and he grabs your waist to keep you still as he bottoms out.

He doesn’t give you long to adjust. Just enough to breathe.

Then he starts moving.

Hard thrusts. Deep. Rhythmic. Obsessive. He fucks you like he owns you, slamming into you over and over, one hand tangled in your hair, the other wrapped tight around your throat again as you scream into the pillow.

“Ray—too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. “You wanted this. Wanted me to break you, didn’t you?”

“Yes—yes, I did—please—”

“You love being my little slut, huh?”

“I do—I do, I swear—”

He leans over you, hips still snapping against your ass, cock hitting every perfect spot inside you like he’s doing it on purpose.

“You’re mine.”

“Yes—yes—yours, yours—!”

“Say it again.”

“Yours, Ray, I’m yours, please don’t stop—”

And he doesn’t. Not until your voice is raw and your body is limp. Not until he feels you pulse around him again—your third orgasm crashing over you so hard it knocks your arms out from under you.

And then—he finishes.

A groan rips from his throat as he slams deep one last time, hips pressed against you, emptying himself with a low, guttural moan of your name. His hands tremble. His rhythm stutters. His whole body curls over yours like he can’t get close enough.

And finally—

Stillness.

Just the sound of both of you gasping for air, tangled together, sweat-slicked and ruined on the couch.

Then he slips out. Gently. Carefully. Hands still soft on your waist.

You collapse into the cushions, face flushed, skin damp, legs trembling, barely able to think.

But Ray’s already gathering you up in his arms—pulling you into his lap, chest to chest.

“You did so good,” he murmurs, brushing sweaty hair from your face. “So fucking good for me.”

You blink up at him, dazed.

He kisses your temple.

“Was I too rough?” he asks, voice suddenly softer.

You shake your head.

“Color?”

“…Green,” you whisper.

He nods. “Attagirl.”

And then he carries you—literally carries you—to the bathroom, like you’re made of glass.

Arms under your back and thighs, holding you against his chest like you’re something fragile—precious. You’re still dazed, limbs useless, head tucked under his chin while he walks you toward the bathroom.

“Gonna get you cleaned up,” Ray murmurs, voice low and sweet now. “You did so good for me, baby. My perfect girl.”

You hum in response. Barely conscious. Floating.

He sets you on the closed toilet seat for a second, kisses your forehead, then turns the shower on—testing the water with his hand like he’s trying to make it exactly right. When it’s warm enough, he turns back to you.

Then he lifts you again—gently—and steps into the shower with you. No lingering touches. Just quiet, steady hands like he respects how far he pushed you tonight.

The warm water hits your back, and you almost cry from how good it feels.

Ray holds you the whole time. Arms around you, lips brushing your shoulder, letting you lean your full weight into him while he washes you off.

He’s quiet. Focused. Massaging shampoo into your hair with careful fingers. Lathering soap into a soft cloth and dragging it down your arms and thighs.

He doesn’t say much—just:

“You okay?”

“You still with me?”

“You’re so good for me. I’m proud of you.”

Over and over. Like a mantra.

By the time he’s toweling you off and pulling one of his biggest, softest shirts over your head, you’re practically melting in his hands.

He lays you on the bed, climbs in next to you, and pulls the covers up to your chin. Then he disappears for one second—and comes back with a bottle of water and a protein bar.

“Eat a little,” he says, nudging it toward you. “I know you’re tired. Just a few bites, yeah?”

You obey. Quietly. Still floaty.

Ray watches you the whole time—eyes soft now, gentle. One hand rubbing slow circles on your thigh.

Then finally—he lays down next to you again and pulls you into his chest.

“I got you,” he whispers. “I’m right here. You were perfect for me, baby. My good girl. My favorite girl.”

You bury your face in his neck.

He smells like soap and sex and comfort.

And before you drift off, you hear one last thing:

“I’ll take care of you always. You know that, right?”

You nod, lips brushing his skin. “I know.”

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