#ultronprime

Title: Mating Season [Prologue] Character(s) Featured: Bruce Banner, James 'Bucky' Barnes, Clint Barton, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Thor Odinson, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark Words: 1,285 Pairing: The Avengers x Reader Genre: Romance/Comedy/Smut Rating: M (Mature 18+) contains mature sexual themes, and profanity Author’s Notes: Hey everybody! Okay, I'm thinking of making this a prologue to a 'choose your own character' kinda thing. I will be making different one-shots involving different Avengers and what happens between the reader and them. No, this is my first SMUT story so bare with me 'cause I'm not sure if the scenes will be written well enough. I guess we'll have to see to find out. If you have read this far then I am taking a vote of who will be the first the reader catches. Inbox me, like, and/reblog with the character you wanna see first. Also, requests are open so drop me a line, people! This is the prologue so please enjoy... Summary: You are a mutant whose powers consist of morphing into many different animals. There's one catch though. Like any warm blooded mammal, as does that burden fallen onto you. You are, unfortunately, horribly, and embarrassingly, in heat. You go through it every year, and every year, you have managed to suppress your natural lustful instinct. But this year, you are an agent and are surrounded by many skillful and attractive potential mates. You must find someone to quench the fire burning within you. And your prey happens to be an Avenger.

ultronprime​

monologuing. some sort of inner soliloquy or something. that’s what she knew she was in for on her rounds. they were the first moments she’d had to herself since the hell outside her doors started, after all. nina shrugged her hood higher and shoved her hands into its pockets, keeping to the shadows, stalking along the perimeter of her territory.

she was still a bit of a pup herself, but nina could honestly say ... she was more proactive in her youth. she wasn’t the sort to throw herself headfirst into conflicts anymore, didn’t feel an active need to conquer, to live that manifest destiny life. at least, not in this war, not in this place. it was all that sort of prove yourself worthy of existing fight, whatever this was, winning out over some city in the sky and seedy shadow halves of yourself that were better than you in every way ... showing strength and holding territory.

it was like some desperate fight for the city to prove itself, for its denizens to show off, to make their struggles relevant. 

she didn’t know when, but she’d stopped caring about that sort of reflection. her struggle for strength had become just as internal as it was personal, as much evolution as it was repetition, and in this present, this event, it was something that spurned her to turn her back on the greater conflict, on the idea of conflict. what need was there to struggle when she was well-seated in her own identity, her own growing power?

none, really, unless the threat was brought to her door, unless her territory, her autonomy ... her sons were threatened. she’d taken precautions, of course, to make sure that didn’t happen. traps, trip wires, a surveillance system she’d designed herself, but none of it really felt as safe as taking to what she’d always known, playing the role of defense, taking the guard dog’s walk, keeping alert on her own accord. there was no sword she could trust more than her own blades, after all, no hide thicker than her own, nothing that worked with her strategy more than her own ingenuity.

she was a weapon of her own desire, wasn’t she? may as well put those blades to use. maybe even sooner than she thought she’d really need them. 

nina had been right to trust her own instinct first, she noted. she was quick to draw, quick to act in recoil as she caught something flying in her periphery. she kept close to the ground, dropped into a half roll to fall into the shadow of a warehouse’s overhanging roof, braced her back against its metal siding, and peered around the wall’s hard corners, into the sky. 

it wasn’t just one thing she’d seen flying, there were multiple -- drones? flying in formation. the beginning of something? surveillance of someone’s own? or was some fresh-faced alternate on a warpath? she turned up her chin as the formation came to a landing nearby, lips curling up over a set of razor-sharp teeth. a grin. it was something to destroy, on her own land, on her own terms.

the ideal was manifest destiny, right? too bad theirs was annihilation.

she set off a swords dance, just one, pulling the glowing silhouette of a blade from nonexistence, feeling her body tingle as her attack power raised, as the sword took a physical form and her halo of weapons faded into nothing again. she’d need less than that to deal with this threat, a duller weapon would have dealt the needed amount of damage well. but she was a bit sadistic, known for overkill. even of the artificial.

there was only the sound of claws upon bloodstained concrete as she stepped from the shadow, nose up, blades ringing. there was no need to assess these sentinels, they weren’t worth her time.

“ come on then, someone sent you here to die, right? “

The end times. Far too often has Thor heard that the end of all was drawing near. He had been in these situations time and time again. And each time, he prevailed. And if not he, then he and hi comrades together. There was no task to perilous. No enemy too powerful. When it came time to rise, man and gods of good would always prevail. It was an ironclad rule. One that the entirety of existence was dependent on. Good had to prevail, no matter what. 

But there were those who would disagree. He knew that. But none who dared oppose him ever succeeded. Except for one. One who’s name Thor tried his hardest to forget as often as possible. And yet, he would always rear his ugly head. For every defeat, a victory in another place. Another time. And one of these victories earned the being Thor’s ire more than anyone else. Though he could only barely see his form in the distance, Thor instantly recognized his design for the most part. And with the swiftness of lightning did he close the distance between them. Thunder crashing as if to personify his anger.

ultronprime

This proceeding taking place was nothing but an inconvenience to Nanaya. While others were dealing with their opposites, Nanaya had no such issue. His opposite already existed. Opposites of opposites seemed rather redundant. In any case, what bothered him more than anything was the constant fighting taking place near his place of residence. Every time without fail, there would be some sort of catastrophic event or scientific experiment in his sector. His mansion, now surrounded by corpses, fire, and what seemed to be robots was one of few pristine structures. People had sought shelter under his roof, but he did not open his gates.

Behind his gates lay his equally pristine lawn. Grass soft as a feather. The blades carried so much volume as if it were a bed born from the life blood of the earth itself. And yet, there was a dirty, loud, obnoxious, mouthy tin-can that aimed to ruin it. One patch. A single flaming piece of debris had fallen onto his beloved lawn and left its mark. One singular scar that would not heal...without proper botanical tending. But it was the act in of itself that annoyed Nanaya. For this singular act had sparked hatred within his heart.

This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot. This Robot.

Gates sealed shut opened and for a split second, combat ceased. The mansion’s owner took a deep breath before unveiling his only weapon. His eyes would usually reflect the calm demeanor of a cold blooded killer, but Nanaya wasn’t about to “calmly” address this situation. Disappearing from the open gates, anything in his path that even seemed alive would seem to burst. Nothing would be left behind. Humans took slightly longer to fade from existence, but machines that were born so quickly held very little value in the eyes of the universe.

One tin-can stood out from the rest of the trash behind him. An entity that he had heard was addressed as “Ultron”. Brushing off the left over dust from his easily dispatched foes, Nanaya would press forward. He could by no means level an entire army with a single attack, but his belligerence was fueled by his rage. Plowing through the flesh and metal like an unstoppable plague, he would finally reach his goal.