what happens when you say “i hate you” to different versions of logan (gender neutral) (smut version)
inspired by a conversation with @lostinlovingrevery, hope you all enjoy!
70s!logan
you’ve been having a really bad day. a really, really bad day. the last thing you need is logan brushing you off because he’s “got shit to do, doll.” so you say it, with a stomp of your foot for dramatic effect. you don’t mean it, he knows that. but you aren’t expecting him to also know exactly what you’re asking for, rough hands grabbing you by the hips and shoving you down onto the couch. he grumbles curses under his breath, fumbling with his belt buckle, and you can’t even process what’s happening before he’s pushing into you. the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness, cause your eyes to roll back into your head. upon seeing this, a pleased expression comes to his face. your mind goes blank within moments, no thoughts except the man pounding into you, cigar still perched in his mouth, smoke blurring your vision as he grunts. “there we go. finally fuckin’ quiet.”
origins!logan
you don’t hate him, you hate the grocery store and those assholes at work and the guy who cut you off when you were driving home. but it just kind of slips out- you’re stressed, anxious, and your sweetheart of a boyfriend unintentionally becomes your punching bag. you’ve barely gotten out an apology before he’s wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. he studies you with a serious expression, hands rubbing circles against your hips. “you hate me, huh?” you try to reassure him that no, of course you don’t, but he won’t listen, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his true intentions. “seems like we oughta fix that.” despite your protests that you’re fine, he carries you to bed with ease, laying you down and using his tongue to work as many orgasms out of you as you need to be happy and satisfied. “feelin’ better, sunshine?”
animated!logan
it comes after he’s slammed you into the danger room floor for the twentieth time that day. you’re utterly exhausted, just wanting one fucking win, but he’s not letting up. he doesn’t take it easy on you- never does. you have a lot of respect for him for it, but goddamn does it piss you off. that was probably the wrong thing to say, though, given the way he’s staring down at you right now. “hate me? that’s harsh, bub.” something predatory flashes in his eyes. “must not wanna touch me then either.” you get to your feet, glaring daggers back at him. he draws it out with a smug smile, waiting for you to admit the truth- it’s not about if you give in, but when. you’re too proud to admit it- so instead you drag him to the nearest closet, sinking to your knees and unbuckling his belt. his hand fists itself in your hair, guiding your pace as he fucks your throat. he makes you take all of him, forcing you down to the base, grinning when you choke on his cock. “don’t worry. i’ll take this as an apology.”
trilogy!logan
you’re play fighting in the kitchen- a common occurrence as he tries to interrupt whatever you’re doing. today it borders on arguing, which is why the exasperated words direct themselves his way, punctuated by a “so much” for emphasis. he just looks at you, with his gorgeous face that has your stomach doing flips, taking a few steps closer until he’s invading your space. “that’s not what you were saying last night, baby.” the memory of last night, his touch and his filthy words in your ear, brings heat to your cheeks. his breath hits your skin, his mouth tantalizingly close to yours, the proximity making you squirm. before you know it, you’re upstairs, a smug smile on his face as he makes you fall apart with his fingers, begging and pleading for more. the way you writhe underneath him confirms what you won’t confess, and he hums in fake contemplation. “guess you don’t hate me that much after all.”
2013!logan
you want to go out into the city, he tells you it’s not safe. it’s a debate that’s been going around in circles for days until you finally let the words slip. his silence, paired with the flash of anger in his eyes, tells you that was a mistake, but it’s too late to take it back now. not that you would dream of it as he drags you to the bedroom, one rough hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look in the mirror as he sinks you down onto his length. the other lifts your hips up then drops you back down again, a slow but brutal pace. it’s too much, and you feel lightheaded as he growls in your ear. “what do you say, sweet thing?“ still, you’re coherent enough to remember your manners, babbling incoherent thanks and apologies, reduced to a basic vocabulary as he impales you on his cock over and over. tears begin to stream down your face, and his firm hold keeps you there, made to see the way he wrecks you completely, the way you fucking love it.
dofp!logan
you’re tied down to the bed, silk rope binding your wrists and ankles. he’s been teasing you for hours. logan always likes to play with his food- slow, methodical, taking his time with you. and god, you enjoy it, but you’ve been good today and you just want your reward. the words are muttered, frustrated, and you’re grateful when he keeps going. you think must not have heard you by the way he’s bringing you closer and closer to that delicious peak, until his gravely voice is right next to your ear. “careful.” he takes your chin, making you look at him as he pulls his hand away from where you need it most. his eyes are serious, his tone a warning, one that only further turns you on. a whine escapes you, your hips bucking at just how close you are, how much you need this. “don’t want me to leave you here, do you, honey?” he smiles in satisfaction when you immediately shake your head, begging him not to do that to you. “that’s what i thought.”
old man!logan
you know you shouldn’t have said it. of course you know you shouldn’t have said it, but that didn’t stop you from doing it anyway. logan doesn’t move from the armchair he’s sitting in, whiskey bottle lowering from his lips. he raises an eyebrow, looking up at you with an unamused expression. “you done?” meekly, you swallow and nod, mumbling a sorry and thinking that’ll be the end of it. but you think wrong. he sets the bottle on the table, turning to face you again, something serious in his eyes. “c’mere.” he pays his lap. you move to sit, but he stops you with a firm hand against your thigh. “bend over, sweetheart.” your heart races as you realize what your punishment will be. you do as he says, and soon enough, your eyes are filled with tears from the spanking he delivers you. “you know better than to pull that shit on me.” he grumbles, clearly disappointed in your attitude. “don’t do it again, y’hear me? got enough to worry about without you bein’ a brat.”
worst!logan
you’re standing outside the door of your apartment when it happens. you’ve been lamenting to wade and vanessa about how much logan drives you crazy, with his stupid face and huge muscles and unfairly sexy voice. unbeknownst to you, logan is just down the hall, coming back from the grocery store. looking back, you’re fairly certain both wade and vanessa knew he was coming before you did, deciding to leave you to your cruel fate. it isn’t until you feel strong hands on your hips and warm breath on the back of your neck and a suspiciously familiar sexy voice in your ear that you realize the trap you’ve stepped into. “you’re hurting my feelings.” you turn around and are met with a fake pout. who knows where wade and vanessa went, all you know is that he’s backing you up against your door, continuing to get closer even as you stumble through apologies. “that’s it? you’re sorry?” he flashes a toothy grin, something predatory gleaming in his eyes. “come on, angel. i know you can do better than that.” he’s cornering you: nothing to do, nowhere to run- except, of course, his lips. so you give in, tongue crashing against yours, his body enveloping your senses. and trust me, he’s gonna make sure you never think a single damn bad thing about him again.
patch!logan
you’re in the casino, begging him to let you get in on a game. he says your job is to just “sit here and look pretty, darlin’,” but you’re getting really fucking bored. the moment the words cross your lips, you regret it. not just because you don’t mean it, but because you can see immediately that logan is pissed. he gives you a look the likes of which he’s never given you before, and nearly shoves you off of his lap. you wait by the edge of the table until the place empties out for the night, thinking maybe he just needed to get it out of his system. but even when the two of you are alone once more, he still doesn’t say a word, just leans back and spreads his legs- a command, and you must obey it. so you do. crawling towards him on your hands and knees, reaching up to undo his belt buckle. as you pull his cock out, beginning to stroke him, the tip of his boot presses against your thigh, and you realize what he wants you to do. you’ll do anything to make it up to him, including sacrificing your pride. so you do: grinding on his boot, pathetic whimpers leaving your lips, muffled by the way your mouth is wrapped around his cock. all the while he says nothing, staring down at you with a menacing expression, and the only thing you can do is pray that you’ll be good enough that he’ll show you mercy.
cowboy!logan
you don’t even remember what you were fighting with him about. no, that left your head the second the unimpressed expression took over his face and the words “that so?” left his lips. you nod- stupidly, you nod. then you step back, but it’s too late, his lasso wrapping around you and tugging you closer to him. “ooh.” he sucks air in through his teeth, shaking his head with a heavily disappointed expression. “that’s gonna be a problem, isn’t it?” he doesn’t let you answer, pulling on the lasso a little harder and sending you stumbling to the ground. he leans down to be face to face with you, jerking his head toward the empty farmhouse a few hundred meters away. “you’d better find a way to make it up to me, sugar. and fast.” when you still don’t move, don’t say anything, he frowns, clicking his tongue at you. “get to it.” and now his voice has that commanding tone, and suddenly you are letting him pull you towards the dirty mattress in the farmhouse, tying your wrists to the bedpost as he cages you in.
