My Lone Wanderer has had a bad taste in men who push her around and shit. (Only for her bark to end up being worse then their bite lol)
This was mostly made out of boredom, but I hope you guys like it regardless. The game is still a bit ‘eh’ for me, but I’m far too obsessed with this ship.
The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 3 are just below the cut!
Minors, please don’t interact.
Hate Sex with Amata x M!Lone
I... got a little carried away on this one, but it's not too aggressive or anything with the hate, it's more hurt/comfort, honestly. And just... the potential for Amata's relationship with Lone is so fun to explore, just... all the feelings. Ugh. Anyway, I hope you like it! <3
Here is the link to the Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.
Included: Hate Sex, dubious consent (at first), cunnilingus, first time oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breast play, light cumplay, confessions of love.
Words: 4.7k
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“Finally, holy shit.” Lone sighed as he sauntered into her quarters.
He’d better have a good reason for wanting to meet so desperately. I swear, I should’ve just–
“Why the hell did it take you so long to let me in?”
He walked around the room like it was his own, coming right up and leaning on Amata’s desk until she was forced to scoot her chair back to maintain any semblance of her own personal space.
The nerve. After what he did to my father, to just have him waltz in here, back in the vault, back into the Overseer’s quarters, like he wasn’t the sole reason I had to step in. The reason it was empty when he abandoned us.
“Amata.” Lone interrupted her thoughts again, leaning close enough that she could hit him, if she wanted to.
She felt her right hand curl into a fist unwittingly in her lap.
“Hello? Madam lost-in-thought? You wanna give me an answer, or what?”
“Like you don’t already know the answer to your own dumb question.” Amata stood, her chair nearly toppling over with her haste to get away from her ex-best friend as she crossed the room back towards the entrance.
“Hey, I have a right to explain myself, don’t you think? After I just saved your ass from a flat-out rebellion?”
She turned to face him with a roll of her eyes as he trailed after her fleeing footsteps.
“Letting a handful of my residents just up and leave doesn’t count as fixing anything. I could’ve done that! I was trying to get them to be reasonable. The only reason,” Amata stepped forward, landing her pointed finger in the center of Lone’s chest as she came face-to-face with him with a snarl, “The only reason I would’ve ever wanted you back here was to tell them how fucking crazy it is to want to leave this place. But I can’t even count on you for that.”
With another searing look, she turned away from him again, sweeping back to her desk where the files on each resident who’d followed Butch’s lead– Lone’s lead to leave the only true home they’ll ever know, laid strewn across it. She closed her eyes at the sight of their names, all people she’d lost, she’d failed, as their Overseer.
“No." Amata continued, "You must belong out there. The savage, cutthroat, awful, unforgiving world above… It suits you, doesn’t it?”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
She was surprised, Lone actually sounded hurt.
“Why are you acting like you’ve always hated me?” His voice grew louder as he approached, and even as she refused to look back, to face him, to give him the time of day, Amata felt Lone’s touch upon her shoulder.
“We were best friends.” His hand squeezed down insistently as she made to pull away, “I thought, at least. Was I wrong?”
“You’re a murderer.” She let the words spill like poison from her tongue, and though she made no move to flinch away, or lash out, Lone’s grip vanished from her.
“Ah.” His voice changed, then. In less than an instant, there was a new quality to even that one syllable. It was cold, unfeeling, apathetic, even. “So that’s what all this is about.”
“All this?”
“How you’ve treated me. Making me your last resort. Refusing to see me, to let me in, to just talk to me.”
“And why would I want to talk to you, now? You left us, remember?”
“I–?” Lone scoffed, his expression suddenly became wild. As Amata’s eyes met his, she backed away a step. “I do remember, Amata. I remember your father threatening to have me killed, I remember the police hunting me like a criminal for something my father did. I remember the Overseer– your dad– he… Shit.”
“No, don’t stop there, keep on going. What exactly did my father do, for you to want to murder him?”
Lone’s eyes were blank as he stared down at the desk, lost in some fog that Amata couldn’t see into from the outside.
“I mean, come on, Lone. He was scared! Nothing like this had happened before. I mean, sure, he overreacted, I know that, but… He didn’t deserve what you did to him. Him, and Freddy. I mean… I know he was an asshole, and I know my father could’ve been a better Overseer, but who gave you the right to just– Just… Kill them? I mean... How could you even do something like that?”
Lone swallowed, the first indication that he was still a living being, as he stayed still as steel throughout her speech.
“How could I have…?”
“Yes. How?”
“No, I mean… I never told you, and I never wanted you to know. But Amata… They tried to kill me first. Your dad gave the order, and Freddy was pointing a gun straight at me. M-maybe I wouldn’t have even done it then, I don’t know, but after seeing what they did to Jonas…”
Amata narrowed her eyes. If it was an act, Lone was doing splendidly. Hell, he almost had her feeling sorry for him for a minute.
“You didn’t…?”
“What? Kill Jonas?" He recoiled visibly with the words, "Are you kidding me, Amata? He was like a brother to me, I… That’s what you believed, what everyone believed, huh?”
Amata tasted copper as she bit into her bottom lip, feeling a heat prick at her eyes until she was blinking back tears.
How could I have been so wrong?
“I… I can’t just believe you now, Lone.” She saw it on his face, the way his bright eyes darkened and dulled, his brows set low, shading his face, the harsh light from above casting eerie shadows beneath his eyes, under his nose.
“What?”
It was back, that hard, cold tone. His voice matching his unsettling visage in a pinch.
If anything, this-- his tone, his reaction here-- only supports my suspicions.
“Lone, you were the only one there! Everyone who could’ve seen, who could’ve spoken for you, is dead.”
“Because they wanted to kill me.”
“Says you! And of course that’s what you would say, no one wants to admit that they could–”
“Why do you choose to believe that I’m lying? What the hell is there to gain from that?”
“I know my father." She said, sounding more firm in her head than her voice reflected. "I know he wasn’t a monster…”
“And I could be? Really?” He was back to being calmer now, his voice soft, and his touch light as he pressed a finger to her cheek, guiding her mistrusting gaze to meet his. “Amata, come on… You know me too.”
He was so close now, and Amata felt like she was being torn in two. Lone's warm breath caressed her face, but even still, she could feel the cool stare of her father’s eyes on the back of her head from the portrait above her desk. Both sets of eyes, boring into her from either side, daring her to blame them, to give up one for the other. To, no matter what truth she chose to believe, betray one of the people she loved most.
“I knew you.” She whispered as tears filled her eyes. “But this? Who you’ve become? I can’t– I don’t trust you, not like I did.”
“Who I was? Who I am? Fuck, Amata, I’m the same person.” His caress upon her face turned to an iron hold, squishing her cheeks within his grasp until her jaw began to ache.
“No.” She shook her head, despite his almost painful pressure, “No, Lone. The old you never would’ve done this, never scared me this way, you always… I mean, you cared about me. I trusted you, and I can’t–”
Without any warning besides his close proximity, Lone lashed his head forward, and captured her already-parted lips in a harsh kiss.
Amata exclaimed into it, both of her hands going straight to Lone’s wrist to tug at his hold on her.
He held fast for a moment, insistent in his firmness as he pressed into her, as his lips held hers hostage and his tongue swiped over the closing crease of her mouth. In turn, Amata let out an angry shout, that became more of a grumble against his invading lips, wriggling further in response to his conquest.
Before she could wrench his grip from her cheeks though, Lone pulled away, and his hands fell to her shoulders instead, his grip still tight, but no longer painful.
“Cared about you?” He spat the words at her. “Amata, that’s never fucking changed.”
She was shaking in his hold slightly, trying to blink away the shock of what just happened as he exhaled his own adrenaline.
A moment of silence passed before he released her completely, and without hesitation, Amata darted to the other side of the desk, keeping the metal slab between them.
“I thought…" Lone didn't even react to her actions as he spoke, "Y’know, since you asked for my help on the radio, maybe you…”
“No.” She told him firmly, but despite her resolve, her voice still quivered. “Maybe I did, but… we were kids. I can’t now– I shouldn’t…”
“Shouldn’t?” Lone tilted his head at her, and for the first time tonight, he looked truly like himself.
Those curious eyes, with just a hint of mischief, a face capable of smiling alongside her as they laughed about a prank they’d pulled on Butch, hands capable of tending to the scrape she’d gotten on her knee in the atrium when she tripped on a loose floor tile, hair she used to tousle teasingly when they were teenagers, when she’d started to see him– them as something… more.
“Or can’t? Cuz there’s a big difference there.”
“Can’t.” Amata repeated, shaking her head before the memories could consume her and cloud her already shaky judgment.
“Hm…” Lone began to circle around the desk, slowly, giving her time to escape him if she so chose.
And I should. I should leave. Right now.
Her feet stayed planted on the floor, her eyes following his every move with lowered brows.
But maybe just to see what he’s planning... If I run from every conflict, what kind of Overseer am I?
“I say shouldn’t.” He told her cheekily, and there it was. That grin. The grin she’d thought about most boring days in the classroom, the grin that would make being shouted at by her father worth all the shenanigans they pulled together, the grin that haunted her dreams when she tried so hard to hate him for what he’d done.
This time, it was him who let out a startled noise into their unexpected kiss.
Amata couldn’t think– shouldn’t think about what she’s doing, or she’d stop, and that… while it should be what she wanted-- what was expected of her, by the civilized members of her vault, by herself, by the ghost of her father, haunting her every action as Overseer, her every thought as his daughter-- It was the last thing she could think of wanting. It was true, she should hate Lone’s guts, as she’s made it seem, as she’s wanted it to feel, but…
Instead, her hands pulled him closer, wrapping tightly around his shoulders and eliciting a grateful groan from between his lips, that bled straight into her as their vault-suit-bound bodies pressed against each other, as his hands flew to her waist to keep her close, as her tongue dove in to mingle with his until she felt goosebumps scattering up her arms, her back, sending heat straight down into her belly.
The steel walls around her seemed to all but melt away. She was whisked off, out of this prison she’d built for herself with each touch, each sound, each feeling. Lone’s firm chest rising to meet hers, his breath was the wind on her skin, his touch the sun warming her, his taste, freedom.
Something hard pressed against her back, and Amata felt herself lean back onto the desk as it was offered to her. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t think, or logic would set back in. It was as though her brain had left her, only her body and heart remained, working together to drive Lone forward, to embrace him with open arms and a forgiving heart of their own.
It was the young part of her, it was the sentimental part, it was her good intentions, her generous heart. That’s what she would tell herself later, that’s what she’d plead when the man glaring down at her from his frame above the desk would call her guilty.
The memory of her father would shame her, sure. But by now, she was used to it.
Too used to it to allow that to stop her.
To stop this.
The back of Amata’s head fell back onto the desk with a resounding thud, as Lone’s lips ravaged her neck, sucking and kissing and biting until she knew he would leave marks upon her pale skin.
He’s already etched his signature on the walls of my heart, what’s another few marks upon me?
Her fingers tangled in his hair, her nails arching as they dragged along his scalp, and down to his shoulders.
The least I can do is get even.
He seemed to take it another step further though, pulling away to tear the zipper of his vault suit all the way down to his naval, before shrugging it off his shoulders and letting the fabric drape down from his waist.
Amata had to admit, the traction was better, now her fingers were setting upon his skin, that she could leave red tracks, a signature of her own, over his body. But she’d be lying if she said that was the first thought that’d crossed her mind as he unveiled himself to her.
Whether he wanted to believe it, or not, Lone had changed. Physically, at least. Where once was soft, smooth skin, like hers, like any vault dweller’s, now he was fraught with scars. There was hard muscle where once was pliable flesh, even the bareness of his chest had grown hairy and coarse.
She might’ve once turned her nose up at that; that, and the smell of him now. So different from the saline and ivory soap smell of the whole lot of vault dwellers she’d known all her life. Now though… Her hands left his shoulders and back, in favor of running over his marked chest, feeling over the patterns of scars she’d observed, scratching over the crop of chest hairs that had caught her attention.
As far as Amata could tell, Lone was the outside world incarnate.
He was hard, rough, he smelled of soil and ash, of sweat and gunpowder, there was a wild glean to his eyes as they raked over her still-clothed form, like a great beast of the wastes she couldn’t, for the life of her, imagine.
And she couldn’t get enough.
Amata’s lips attacked him again and one of her legs wrapped around Lone's waist, pulling his body on top of hers with one aggressive movement. She felt their teeth mash together painfully, their foreheads knock, their hands overlapping each other's fervent touching in the messiness of it all, but even so, they were working towards the same goal.
In the next instant, Amata felt a pressure around her chest release, as the zipper of her vault suit was pulled to match her partner’s. She couldn’t have said which set of hands managed that bit, but she soon found her bra following by her own hands. That was when Lone finally paused, finally took a deep breath, but only in.
He gasped as she wrenched the sports bra she wore off over her head, admittedly ungracefully, but he couldn’t seem to care less.
Was that… could she see a sort of reverence beneath his nearly-stoic gaze? A memory flitted through his mind, she could see it plain on his face, and then, just as quickly, it was gone. He was back in the moment.
Lone’s lips set back upon her neck, but she need not wonder where they’d wander to next.
It was her turn, then, to gasp as his mouth descended to her freed breasts with the hunger of a wasteland mongrel.
“Mm.” The sinful reverence in his groans sent a chill up her spine, “Fuck, Amata. Should’ve come back to visit sooner.”
She meant to respond, but his hands on her hips tore every thought from her head, as he wrenched her vault suit and underwear down off of her hips in one hasty, fluid movement.
“Wow… I…” Lone started, but soon trailed off. Possessed, she guessed, by the sight of her. That’s all she had time to guess, as his hands held firm to her bare hips, and he dove straight between her thighs with what she could only describe as a growl.
Lone's mouth was warm against her, instantly ravenous as he mouthed at her slickened folds with the whole of his being. His lips and tongue worked together to encourage her legs to spread further, to let him in.
Amata’s hands flew back to the sanctuary of Lone's hair as he worked, and she found herself tugging on the strands to force him even closer as she felt the hot, wet prod of his tongue at her entrance.
He gave her no time to be self-conscious, not about the curls upon her mound, not about the fact that he was the first to lay his lips upon her this way, to see her so close and in such harsh light. Without pause, he only devoured.
A series of gasps left her at the sensations, as she felt traces of wetness slipping out of her with each stroke of his tongue, each press of his lips against her sensitive little bud. She shrunk away, hips bucking up off the cool, metal desk as he gave a harsh suck to her clit, and his grip on her tightened, pulling her whole body towards him until he could haul her thighs up over his shoulders.
Amata's blood was boiling, something tingling deep within her as he tended the flame in her groin with his touches, now with one hand reaching to circle and tease over that sensitive point as his tongue explored her entrance. Her slick practically poured out of her with his new ministrations, and he drank it up with a lewd moan as the tangy taste reached his tongue. Amata could only hold onto the desk for her life as he ushered her towards her climax.
Instead of finishing her though; yet still, with great reluctance, she felt Lone pull away.
“Almost, baby. Just need… Need you.”
He was out of breath, Amata noticed as her eyes finally opened. She could feel herself flush at the sight of him, his body glistening with sweat, his mouth, with her. His hair was mussed in all the right places, his pupils blown wide with want for her, and his… The fabric of the lower half of his vault suit was straining.
As she caught herself staring, Amata forced her eyes away with a quick clear of her throat.
“Hm,” He half laughed-half hummed, “I saw that.”
Amata allowed her eyes to rest upon him, this time at his face, just in time to see his cheeky little wink.
It made her blush all over again.
A shuffling of fabric sounded as she turned her attention away from his form and to the wall, where he couldn't tease her for looking.
The wall won’t make me blush and tingle the way he does. God, he just turns me into such a–
“Can’t always be such a goody-two-shoes, huh?”
In her peripheral vision, Amata saw him pull down his suit all the way, until he was as naked as she was.
“Not with your bad influence.” She muttered, but Lone only chuckled, and she felt his hands at her hips, tugging her as far forward as she’d go without spilling off the desk.
“Yeah, well… My bad influence here is about to make a real impression. Got any issues with that, goody-goody?”
“N-no.” She managed, despite the alarming red on her face and the strain in her throat, “Just wish you wouldn’t have said it that way.”
Amata sheepishly turned her attention back to him as Lone adjusted their bodies, aligning their hips, and finally, she saw him completely. More scars, more firmness, more hair, more… grown-up.
It took her breath away, to see him now, as she dreamed he’d be when… When they grew up together, only… Lone was more him than she’d ever been able to assume.
If only I’d known back then… He was never meant for the life I lead, but then again, maybe I…
Amata didn’t allow herself to finish that thought, afraid it’d lead her down a path of regret that would drastically change her future. She couldn’t think about that, the past, not when now was so gripping.
“Then I won’t say another word.” Lone whispered, and she chanced another glance down between their bodies, where Lone was slowly rubbing the head of his hard member between her lower lips, until, just as slowly, carefully, he began to ease himself inside.
Amata’s hands paled as she gripped the metal edges of the desk, feeling a painful twinge from the stretch of his girth. True to his word, Lone didn’t speak, only raised a questioning brow at her reaction, but Amata nodded him on.
Despite the initial pain, she was slick enough that Lone slid the rest of the way easily, and she felt herself relax against the table as he seated himself inside her. They paused as he breathed hard from above her, his forehead glistening, eyes blown wide, hair tousled, and she could only imagine the mess she looked beneath him; all bliss and barely contained reservations at the thought of all this, at the realization that what she’d been dreaming of– for years– had finally come to fruition, even despite everything that’d happened. The betrayal, the loss, the responsibility she’d gone through, she’d taken up; his absence from her life, her hatred of him, her villainization, and yet… giddy wings fluttered in her stomach above where they were joined, her chest swelled with warmth and her own eyes grew hazy with emotion at the thought of finally being with her best friend, the boy she’d loved all through her childhood, of being with him this way, as grown adults. Not fumbling teenagers about to make a mistake, not out of desperation or pity, but out of the amalgamation of shared feelings that had been bubbling up in both of them for so damn long that not even hatred, not betrayal, not verbal attacks or lies or even accusations of murder could keep them apart.
Maybe it was irresponsible, or maybe… Maybe love really did make people do crazy things.
Like her father’s love for this vault, like James’ love for his only child, the last remnant of the woman who held his heart, it may have driven both men a little crazy, but it didn’t mean they cared any less.
“I wish…” She started to say, her thoughts demanding to be shared without her consent, until they were captured by a sharp breath as Lone began to move. He pulled his hips back slowly, and pushed forward even more so, testing the waters, and allowing Amata to become used to him.
Used to him here… over me, looking into my eyes, in me.
If this had happened before… Before his father left, before hers was taken from her, would things have been different? She couldn’t help but think to herself-- even as her body tried to distract her, as the sensations passing through her demanded her attention.
“Y-you wish?” Lone prompted her, his voice so wonderfully rough, so taxed by his actions, not because they were physically taxing, the languid strokes and slow movement of his hips against her, no, but the action of holding himself back, keeping his movements calculated, keeping his thoughts in a death-grip as they screamed sincere, urgent, want for the woman beneath him.
Amata bit her lip, half-pretending not to hear his question as she allowed herself that convenient loss of perspective, of healthy boundary and revulsion that had kept her safe from all her feelings these past few years.
“Tell me what you wish.” He said instead, leaning down to mouth at her neck in such a way that his lips felt like a searing brand, and a warm caress all at once. Lone rocked into her again, still slow and fluid, but deep. Far enough inside that he could reach her end, that their bodies were all but one as he laid flush over her, as one hand reached to clasp with hers above their heads, while the other pressed over her pulsing left breast, as her heart raced at the newfound closeness, at the sound of Lone’s whispered words against her ear.
“Please,” He continued, the breathy tone all but a whine as he switched to kissing along the other side of her neck. “I want to know.”
Amata’s chest ached below his touch, and she prayed to anyone who’d listen that he didn’t feel the way her heart stuttered at his request.
Instead of appeasing him, she turned her head to capture his lips with hers, bringing her free hand up to caress his cheek, to hold him to her until he forgot all that she wished she could. His groan into her mouth sent fire down her body, and Amata felt another great rush of slickness leave her. At that, Lone’s tempo increased, the searing heat and pressure of her clenching walls spurring him onward to bring them both to an explosive end.
Her hips bucked, meeting his thrusts as her lips stayed set firmly upon him, as they breathed and groaned against each other, as she felt the slickness of his sweat merge with her own, the grip of his fingers squeeze her tightly, the rub of his pelvic bone hit her just right until her back was arching and she was pulling away with a cry of his name spilling from her parted lips.
Lone released a shout of his own, his pace stuttering as she clenched wildly around him, until his legs damn-near gave out beneath him.
“Amata, fuck… I–” A deep groan left him as Amata felt herself slowly coming down from her high, even as his pace picked back up.
She saw tears in his eyes as he pressed into her over-sensitive heat time and time again, before the telltale swell of his cock had her heart skipping beats in her chest.
Lone pulled out of her at the last instant, peeling his body from hers as his release spurted over the pale skin of her stomach.
The muscles of his torso visibly clenched and flexed with each spill of his cum onto her, and Amata could only look up tiredly, transfixed on the way his face scrunched up, how his brows drew together, how his muscular chest rose and fell and his arms seemed to tremble at the greatness of the pleasure she’d just helped bring him.
Despite the lovely sight, the pleasant fuzziness still encasing her body, a foul taste coated her mouth.
“God, Amata, I…” Lone nearly collapsed onto her when he’d finished, bracing himself on the desk with one elbow while the rest of his body pressed back over her messily. “I think... I think I love you…” He whispered the last bit between breaths, as he laid a kiss upon the side of her mouth.
The affection in his words, his actions… It tore her to pieces.
They both laid there for a moment, catching their breaths, feeling their bodies move against one another's, letting the sweet buzz of the afterglow wash over them.
“So, what… um, what were you gonna say?” He asked after a moment. After her charged silence.
She bit her lip as she looked up at the ceiling, as she felt the cruel, haunting gaze of her father's portrait burn through her disturbingly.
“I– I wish…” Amata closed her eyes, unable to meet Lone's gaze as he sat up slightly and looked so fondly down at her.
