#Cotton Candy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loganspet · 11 days ago

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𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓’𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 ♡ ૮ › ‹ ྀིა

. . . ─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ─── 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

. . .

When Logan Howlett, your sugar daddy, finally gets his hands on you again, there’s no holding back.

Pairing:

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Daddy Kink, Dom! Logan, Sub! Reader, Rough sex, Teasing, Banter, Age gap, Dirty talk, Fingering , Use of pet names, Bimboification, Reader has piercings, Minor Ass spanking, No control, Explicit language, Explicit sexual content, Dog tags, Unprotected Sex (p in v).

Cotton Candy is Readers Nickname meaning docile and approachable

Inspiration nsfw link :3

Half asleep, I can’t shake the thought of him slipping into my bed, so I wrote this .

. . .

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

╭──────────.★..─╮

[You:] I’m booooored.

[Lo:] And?

[You:] And you should entertain me, duh.

[Lo:] Ain’t my problem, princess.

You scowl at your screen.

╰─..★.──────────╯

You roll your eyes, sprawled across the plush sheets of your king-sized bed. Technically, it’s your bed, in your penthouse—but let’s be real. It’s all because of him.

Logan keeps you in luxury, a spoiled little thing in lace and diamonds. He likes you soft, pretty, with a closet full of designer and a credit card you still haven’t hit the limit on. But right now? He’s being a pain in the ass.

Your manicured fingers tap against your phone.

╭──────────.★..─╮

[You:] Umm, actually, it is. You signed up for this so fucking mean. Ugh.

[Lo:] That right? Ain’t mean. Just don’t cater to whiny brats.

You picture him now, probably kicked back in his Chevrolet, cigar clenched between his teeth, jaw tight. He’s never been much for texting—too impatient, too old. You giggle at the thought.

[You:] You literally do tho. My closet says otherwise. What’s wrong, old man?

He leaves you on read for a second, which makes you scowl. You hate when he does that—like he’s got something more important than you. So, naturally, you decide to push.

[Lo:] Keep runnin’ that mouth, Cotton Candy see what happens.

You roll onto your back, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

[You:] Ooo, scary. What’re you gonna do, Lo? Ground me?

╰─..★.──────────╯

You smirk at your own sass, but when he doesn’t respond immediately, you pout. Logan’s such a grump. He doesn’t chase—not the way men your age do, falling over themselves for a chance with you. But that’s exactly why you love teasing him, making him snap.

A new idea.

You look in your vanity mirror. Your mirror is a dream—glossy lips, untidy hair, barely-there underwear, and something dangling between your tits. His dog tags. You bit your lip. Tits spill out. The cool metal rubs against your pierced nipples, barbell jewelry visible through the exquisite lace the lace he bought. Sliding your phone up, you angle the camera perfectly—pouty, teasing, tits pushed up, You make sure the tags are in focus, resting against your pierced nipples like they belong there. and attached it to a new message.

╭──────────.★..─╮

[You:] Ruin me, daddy. Please?

Delivered. Read.

You smirk.

Three dots appear. Vanish. Appear again. Oh, he’s pissed. The response takes seconds.

[Lo:] You wanna play that game, huh?

Your grin widens. Your stomach flips

[You:] Mmhmm. You get all growly ‘n’ bossy when you’re mad. So hot, Lo.

[Lo:] ‘Lo’? The fuck kinda name is that?

You giggle, twirling a strand of hair again.

[You:] Short for Logan. Duh.

[Lo:] Don’t call me that. I hate it

He loves it

[You:] Aww. Someone’s grumpy. Lemme guess—you’re sittin’ there, puffin’ on one of those nasty cigars, pretendin’ you’re not hard as hell right now.

Three dots appear. Vanish.

You’re kicking your feet.

[You:] C’mon, daddy. Bet you can’t handle me tonight.

Still nothing. Fine. You decide to push harder, slipping your fingers into your lace panties, dragging them low—just enough to tease. Another pic. Another message.

[You:] Bet you won’t do a thing about it.

Delivered. Read.

The response is immediate.

[Lo:] Bet your fuckin’ ass I will. Open the door.

Your breath catches.

Wait—

[You:] …You’re already here?!

[Lo:] Got in the car the second you sent that first pic. Ain’t in the mood for your games, bubs. Open the door, now.

Oh, shit.

You scramble up, heat pooling between your thighs, heart pounding. Your phone vibrates again.

[Lo:] And take those fuckin’ panties off before I get in there. If you’re gonna act like a needy little brat, you’re gonna learn what happens when daddy finally has enough.

Your whole body shivers.

You’re so in trouble.

╰─..★.──────────╯

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

You barely have time to process before there’s a heavy knock at your door. Sharp. Impatient.

Your pulse jumps.

Oh, you really did it this time.

Scrambling off the bed, you toss your phone aside and tug your panties down, just like he ordered. A rush of excitement floods through you—nerves and need tangled together. You love this part, the chase. Pushing him, testing the limits of that patience.

And now? You’re about to see what happens when you finally snap it.

You unlock the door with trembling fingers. The second it swings open.

Big hands. A rough grip. Logan grabs you, one hand fisting your hair, the other bracing against your jaw, forcing your head up to meet his glare.

He smells like cigar smoke and leather, like pine and something dangerous.

“Y’think you’re cute, huh?” His voice is low, thick with something darker than irritation.

Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

Logan’s eyes flick down, and fuck, you swear you see his jaw tighten when he sees his tags between your tits, resting against your soft skin like they were made to be there. back when their little arrangement was still just that—an arrangement. He paid for your apartment, your designer bags, diamond bracelets. You let him grab you by the waist, let him pull you into his lap when the two of you were alone, let him drink in the way you looked in all the things he bought. It was a game, a back-and-forth, push-and-pull. Spoiled you rotten, the perfect little doll for him.

But one night, You saw them. His dog tags. Hanging off the hook in his bedroom like they didn’t belong to him, like they weren’t something personal, something worn close to his heart.

You wanted them so you took them

“Y’just don’t know when to quit, do ya?” He mutters, stepping inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

You give him a slow, syrupy smile. “Not really.”

His nostrils flare.

Then he’s moving—shoving you back against the wall, pinning you there like you belong beneath him. His grip tightens around your chin, thumb pressing against your glossy bottom lip.

“Daddy asked you a question.” His voice is rough, a quiet rasp of warning.

You blink up at him, lashes fluttering. “Which one?”

His expression darkens.

“Brat.”

Oh, you love it when he gets like this—when his rough hands and mean mouth are too much for anyone else, but perfect for you.

“I missed you, Logan” you sigh, tilting your head, giving him a coy smile of yours that drives him wild.

His thumb drags against your lip, just barely dipping between your teeth.

“Yeah? That why you were sendin’ me filthy fuckin’ pictures while I was drivin’?” he growls, his breath hot against your skin. He always loves hearing his name from you—especially when it comes out so sweet, so innocent, even though he knows exactly what’s underneath that pretty, ditzy exterior.

Your grin widens. “Mhm.” you hum, drawing out the sound just enough to drive him wild. “I missed everything about you, Logan”

His thumb presses against your tongue, just enough to make you gasp.

“Everything, huh? Got no patience for your games tonight, sugar. Y’been beggin’ for my attention all fuckin’ week.” He leans in, breath hot against your cheek. “Now you got it.”

“I want you so bad,” you whisper against his lips, your breath coming faster, need building. “Do you want me, Lo?” You whimper, thighs pressing together. Of course he did if he didn’t he wouldn’t be here.

His lips brush against your ear. “What was it you said?” His voice is pure gravel, his grip sliding down your body, over soft curves, possessive and firm. “Bet I won’t do a thing about it?”

A sharp little gasp slips out before you can stop it.

Then his hand grips the inside of your bare thigh. Just enough to sting. Just enough to make you ache.

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

His voice is a growl against your ear, rough like gravel, thick like smoke.

“You really got no shame, do ya? Bubs”

You giggle, all soft and sweet, batting your lashes up at him. “Not when it comes to you, Lo”

Logan exhales sharply through his nose, like he’s trying to keep his shit together. You know that sound. It’s the same one he makes when he’s gripping the steering wheel too tight after you’ve spent the whole car ride teasing him with your pretty little mouth.

His hand is still on your thigh, big and hot, pressing in just enough to remind you who’s in charge. His other hand trails up, fingers catching on the chain of his dog tags—right where they sit between your tits.

You see it then, the way his eyes darken, locked on the cold metal resting against your warm skin.

He loves it.

He hates how much he loves it.

“You think just ‘cause you’re wearin’ these, you get to act like a fuckin’ menace?” His thumb brushes the tags, then trails down, grazing your nipple through the thin lace. The metal is cold against your skin.

You gasp, arching into him. “Mmm. Maybe.”

His grip tightens.

Maybe it’s the pout you give him. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re not wearing panties, just like he told you to. Maybe it’s the way your skin is warm and soft under his rough hands—so delicate compared to him.

Whatever it is, Logan’s patience snaps like a frayed wire.

He fists the chain and tugs. Not enough to hurt, just enough to pull you closer, to make you feel who you belong to.

“You got no fuckin’ idea what you just started, Cotton Candy.”

You shiver, looking up at him through heavy lashes. “Guess you’ll have to show me.”

His nostrils flare.

Then, without another word, he grabs you—lifts you like you weigh nothing and tosses you over his shoulder, one big hand landing a sharp slap against your bare ass.

You squeal, wiggling in his hold.

“Fuck Logan!”

Another spank, harder this time.

“What was that?”

You whimper, pressing your thighs together, breath shuddering. “Daddy.”

His smirk is damn near feral as he starts toward your bedroom.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

Logan kicks the door shut behind him, the sharp click of the lock sliding into place making your stomach tighten.

You’re still slung over his broad shoulder, ass on display, his fingers kneading at your soft flesh like he’s debating whether to spank you again.

He takes his time.

Lets you feel every step—every shift of his powerful frame, every roll of his muscles under your body. It’s dizzying, being manhandled like this, thrown around like you weigh nothing. And fuck, you love it.

“Dunno if you deserve my time tonight, sugar.”

“Daddy,” you whine, squirming in his grip. “You’re being so mean.”

Logan flicks open his lighter with a practiced ease, the small flame illuminating his face for just a moment before he brings the cigar to his lips. The end glows ember-red as he takes a slow drag, cheeks hollowing, the scent of burning tobacco filling the air. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t break eye contact. Just watches you through the curling tendrils of smoke, that sharp-toothed smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A chuckle. Deep, throaty. Cruel.

“Yeah?” he drawls, voice thick and amused, the cigar bobbing between his teeth as he speaks. His palm finds your ass again, fingers kneading into soft flesh, teasing, taunting. “’Cause I ain’t the one sendin’ pictures, beggin’ to be ruined, huh?”

You pout, not that he can see it. “It was just a little tease.”

You swallow hard, heat curling in your stomach, but Logan just snorts, exhaling a sharp puff of smoke through his nose like he doesn’t believe a damn word out of your mouth.

“Yeah? Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

And then you’re falling.

Your back bounces against the bed as Logan drops you without an ounce of gentleness, and a little oof leaves your lips. But before you can complain, before you can even think about sitting up, he’s already on you—big, warm, and so much, caging you in with that solid body like you’re tiny beneath him.

His knees press into the mattress, one rough hand spreading your thigh open like it’s his to play with. His other arm braces beside your head, keeping you right where he wants you, making you so, so helpless under him. You’re not, of course—you know how to push his buttons, how to whine and get your way.

Logan knows better.

Knows you’re a spoiled, needy gorgeous thing. Knows you love pushing him to his limit just to see how far he’ll take it.

Tonight, you’re fucked.

“You like bein’ a whore, huh? Like makin’ me work for it? Huh, bub?”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, his fingers dip between your thighs, sliding through your already-messy slick.

“Damn,” he mutters, voice low, guttural. The rasp in it sends a shiver down your spine. “Drenched for me already, huh?“

Your breath hitches when he slides a thick finger inside, slow at first, teasing. He watches your body react, watches the way you arch and whimper, all pretty and desperate under him.

Your hands curl into the sheets as you whine, bottom lip wobbles “M’not easy.”

Logan just chuckles, dark and knowing. His free hand grips your chin, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him.

“You sure about that, sweetie?” His fingers press a little deeper, his thumb circling your clit in lazy, unhurried strokes.

“This is mine”

You gasp, back arching, legs spreading instinctively. His touch is firm, practiced—he knows exactly how to unravel you, how to work your body until you’re shaking.

“I-" your voice squealing with delight, the more you cry for him.

“Yeah?” His thumb drags over your pouty bottom lip, like he’s thinking about stuffing it in your mouth.

And then—his fingers speed up.

The shift is sudden, brutal. From slow, teasing drags to deep, fast thrusts, curling just right, fucking you open with rough, unrelenting precision. His palm smacks against your soaked little cunt with every stroke, the sound loud, wet, filthy. The kind of sound that makes your cheeks burn. The kind of rhythm that makes you forget how to think.

Your back arches off the bed, legs trembling, hands fisting the sheets, desperate to grab onto something, anything.

“Oh,” you gasp, nodding eagerly, shivering when he fingers your swollen, desperate cunt. eyes going all glossy and unfocused. “Oh—Logan—” ..★ ..★

Your face burns, but you don’t deny it. Can’t. Not when he’s got you like this—pinned beneath him, fingers buried deep, dragging you toward the edge like it’s nothing.

“Daddy,” you whimper, hands flying to his shoulders, clinging tight, nails digging into muscle like you need to ground yourself.

He hums in approval, lips quirking into a smirk.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, teasing. “Say it nice. Show me you deserve it.”

You’re already panting, thighs trembling as the pressure builds, but you force yourself to meet his gaze, batting your lashes. And then his mouth is on yours.

It’s not sweet. Not gentle. Logan kisses like he fights—rough, unrelenting, a clash of heat and dominance that steals the breath from your lungs. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, a sharp nip that sends a jolt of pleasure straight through you. You whimper against his mouth, but that only makes him bite harder, dragging his teeth along the plush curve before soothing the sting with his tongue.

The taste of copper blooms between you.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest as he licks into your mouth, tasting the blood, tasting you. He groans when his tongue meets the cool metal of your piercing, rolling against it, sucking your tongue into his mouth like he’s starved for it. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly as the kiss deepens into something messy, desperate.

Your lips are swollen, slick, the faintest trace of blood smeared between them as he finally pulls back, panting, his grip on you still tight, still possessive. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, smearing the crimson before he shoves his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue.

“Look at you,”

“Please, Daddy,” you breathe, voice dripping with sweet desperation. “Please fuck me. Want you so bad—”

Your words cut off in a gasp when he pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty, aching.

Logan brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean, groaning low in his chest like he’s savoring you.

“Logan… Screw you” you whine, lifting your hips in an attempt to chase the pleasure you crave.

Wrong move.

His palm cracks against your ass, sharp and punishing.

“No,” he commands. “Stay still.”

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

The sound of his belt unbuckling makes your breath hitch. That sharp clink of metal, the slow drag of leather through the loops—it’s enough to have you clenching around nothing.

Logan knows it too. Knows exactly what that does to you.

He smirks, cigar between his teeth, letting his belt fall to the floor with a heavy thud. Then his hands go to his jeans, flicking the button open, dragging the zipper down slow—making you watch, making you wait.

You whimper, shifting under him, body already arching in silent desperation.

“Always so impatient,” he mutters, kicking his jeans off, watching you with those dark, heated eyes. “You know how this goes, sugar.”

Yeah. You do.

Because this isn’t the first time you’ve begged him like this, all messy and desperate, no teasing, no buildup—just pure, aching need.

And Logan’s never been the type to deny you.

You barely get the chance to breathe before he’s gripping your thighs, spreading you open, fitting himself between them.

No warning. No preparation. Just the blunt, thick head of his cock pressing against your slick, dripping entrance, pushing in deep.

You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, thighs trembling at the stretch.

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

You don’t remember exactly how it happened—how a night of harmless flirting turned into something permanent.

But somewhere between the stolen kisses in the dark and the way he fucked you, Logan decided you were his.

And you loved that.

You loved being spoiled.

Liked being taken care of.

Loved the feeling of his rough hands on your soft skin, the contrast of his calloused fingers slipping expensive jewelry onto you like you were some pretty little doll for him to dress up.

He made sure you had everything.

“You wanna act like a spoiled little thing—” he had rasped once, pinning you against the wall, cigar dangling from his lips.

You had just giggled, chewing your bubblegum, watching his eyes darken when your lips pouted around the pink sweetness.

“I am spoiled, daddy.”

Logan had exhaled, thick smoke curling around you both as he dragged his mouth up your neck, biting at your jaw, his voice a low growl—

“Yeah? Then I better make sure y’know who spoils ya.”

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

Now, with your legs wrapped around his waist, his dog tags bouncing between your tits, his teeth sinking into your neck.

You know.

It burns—God, it burns—but you don’t care. You love it. Love how rough he is, how he takes you, he owns you.

“Fuck,” Logan growls, head dropping to your shoulder, voice thick with need. “So goddamn tight Cotton Candy —”

You whimper, legs wrapping around him, heels digging into his back. “Daddy, please—”

That’s all it takes.

With a low, ragged growl, Logan pulls back—just enough to slam back in, burying himself to the hilt.

Your back arches off the bed, lips parting in a soundless gasp.

He sets a brutal pace, fast and deep, no softness, no hesitation—just pure, unrelenting need.

Each thrust punches the air from your lungs, leaves you gasping, whining, begging.

“Fuckin’ ruined for me,” Logan growls, voice thick with possession. “Ain’t no man ever gonna fuck you like this, baby. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, babbling out a breathless, “Yes, Daddy—only you, only you—”

Logan grunts in approval, pace punishing now, skin slapping against skin. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking against the wall, but you don’t care.

All you care about is him. His hands gripping your hips, his breath hot against

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

Logan shifts, gripping your hips, pulling you up until your legs wrap tight around his waist. The new angle makes you see stars ..★ ..★ —his cock pressing impossibly deep, stretching you wide, claiming every inch of you.

Your lingerie—what’s left of it—is already slipping off your shoulders, straps hanging loose, fabric bunched up around your ribs. Logan’s fingers roam up your torso, curling around the delicate lace, and with one sharp tug—

Riiip.

You gasp, eyes wide, body jerking from the sudden tear of fabric against your skin.

“Logan!” you gasp, half-scolding, half-turned on.

He just smirks, watching the shredded lace fall from your body, leaving you completely bare. His voice is rough, teasing as his thumbs skim your nipples. Click—the dog tags hanging between your tits clink together.

“I’ll buy you another one, Cotton Candy,” he murmurs, like it’s nothing. Like he’ll buy you a thousand more just to tear them off again.

Your head falls back against the pillows, shivering as his hands roam, feeling every inch of you like he owns it.

And he does.

Logan leans down, chest pressing flush against yours, his cock hitting deeper—making you gasp. His shirt’s still on, fabric rough against your bare skin, but it doesn’t last long.

One-handed, he tugs it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him.

God, he’s huge.

Thick and broad, every inch of him veined and solid, muscles shifting beneath his scarred skin as he moves. The happy trail leads down to where he’s buried inside you, disappearing between your trembling thighs.

The cigar still hangs lazily from his lips, the ember burning low. A slow curl of smoke wafts up toward the ceiling.

Logan smirks down at you, rolling his hips slow, grinding against you—making you feel every inch of him.

“Needa fill ya to the brim, bub where you're already sweet and ready for me, is where my cock goes—where my dick belongs." he rasps, voice heavy with lust.

“Oh god…” You gasped, eyes wide, looking down at the way his cock was bulged inside of you.

Your lips part, a shuddering whimper slipping past. “Mm… Lo”

His smirk widens, hand sliding down to grip your throat, thumb brushing your jaw.

“Yeah, sugar,” he mutters, leaning in, breath hot against your lips. “Real deep. Make sure ya feel me all fuckin’ night.”

His mouth crashes against yours, the kiss sloppy, rough, all teeth.

His canines graze your lip before he bites, sharp and deep—just enough to sting, to bruise.

You whimper, fingers tangling in his thick hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

He groans at that, hips snapping forward, cock slamming into you so hard your back arches off the bed.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he growls, licking the blood from your swollen lip.

Then he grabs your hips and fucks you stupid.

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

Your brain turns fuzzy, all soft and sweet, floating somewhere between pleasure and delirium.

Logan’s weight keeps you pinned, his body hot, muscles flexing, his hips slamming into you over and over until all you can do is take it.

His cock stretches you impossibly wide, dragging along that sensitive spot inside you with every brutal thrust. Your nails claw at his back, but you’re weak, barely able to hold onto him as your body trembles beneath him.

“D-Daddy—mm—s’too much…” Your voice is all breathy, slurred, almost drunk on him.

Logan just chuckles, that low, gravelly sound rolling through his chest. His cigar’s long gone now—probably crushed somewhere on the nightstand.

“Aww, what’s wrong, baby ?” he drawls, licking up the side of your throat. “My dumb lil’ candy can’t take it?”

Your head lolls back against the pillows, eyes glassy, lips parted. Every thrust punches another little whimper out of you, soft and broken, your thighs trembling around his waist.

He smirks at the way you’re gibbering now, no real words left—just babbling, whining, fists clenching and unclenching against his shoulders.

“C’mon, bubs,” he grunts, voice thick. “One more. Give me one more, yeah?”

You sob, shaking your head, but your body betrays you—your walls fluttering around him, sucking him deeper.

“Fuck—there ya go,” Logan groans, his rhythm stuttering, movements getting erratic. He’s close—real close.

His grip tightens on your hips, his pace turning sloppy, grinding deep until—

He pulls out at the last second, thick ropes of cum spilling across your chest, dripping down your belly.

You gasp, body twitching, still lost in the aftershocks.

Logan groans low in his throat, watching the mess he made, his fingers tracing through the pearly streaks painting your soft skin.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, half outta breath, voice wrecked.

You blink up at him, all fuzzy, pretty, lips swollen from his kisses, breath coming in little gasps.

Logan smirks, brushing a thumb across your cheek.

“Y’look real good like this, baby,”

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