ok ok hear me out: thigh riding w fwb!cools? like he’s busy trying to do something but reader’s all pent up and needy and he’s just like “use my thigh”?
warnings: nsfw themes, minors dni, fwb!reader x logan, thigh riding
a/n: i'll never get tired of writing these two! i hope you like it, enjoy!! <33
you whimper, hips rolling, cunt dragging over his thigh, the fabric of his pants soaked from your slick, the weight of his gaze, blues eyes fixed to your face, all soft and smitten, making your cheeks feel like they're on fire. he should be looking at his phone, replying to emails his agent has told him he needs to answer urgently, but you're more entertaining to watch, frantically thrashing your hips, head tossed back, trying to chasing a high you've been desperate for all day.
"please," you whine, scratching your nails softly against the back of his neck, clit throbbing against the roughness of his pants, each roll of your hips a sweet, thrilling scrape against the swollen ache, "i need more," you ghost your lips along his jaw, being refused to his mouth, "logan, please-!"
"busy, baby," his phone isn't even in his hand anymore, tossed onto the sofa cushion next to him, "just keep grinding like that."
you shake your head, whimpering, "don't want to anymore," your hand trails down his broad chest, palming him through his pants, his cock hot and thick, straining against the fabric, "need you to fuck me."
still he denys you, nudging your hand away, stopping you as you try to unfasten his pants, "no," your pout does nothing to change his mind, "later," his lips brush against your ear, his hot breath on your skin making you groan, your greedy cunt pulsing, "i'll give you whatever you want when i'm finished."
"not even on your phone anymore," you bite back, raking your fingers up through his hair, tugging, a soft punishment for his cruelty, "just don't want to pay me any attention, don't like me anymore."
"i don't like you anymore?" he laughs, his mouth curving against your neck, biting softly, sucking until you're gasping for him to stop. "is that so?" he arches his eyebrown, blues fixating on your bottom lip, the way it forms the perfect pout. he kisses it, softly, making it go away. "if i didn't like you then why am i letting you use my thigh like it's some fuckin' toy you keep in your bedside table? could've made you wait, let that ache between these pretty thighs become intolerable, but i'm too nice to my pretty girl, too good to you." his hand rests against your neck, fingers wrapping softly around your throat, comfortable there, like they're always meant to be there, his thumb stroking your jaw. "so, tell me again i don't like you anymore."
"later," he reaches for his phone, "i've got emails to answer."
you tip your head back, whining, the sound so raw and so needy, full of frustration, "i hate you."
"dickhead," you grumble, fisting his hair, the hiss he releases satisfying to hear.
"princess," he chuckles, kissing you, once, to fast for you to kiss him back, diverting his attention back to his phone as he sits comfortably back, "now, be a good girl, grind that greedy cunt on my thigh, i want it drenched in you by the time i've finished."