"Shock" is in fact a substitute for most swear words! This is something that made up for the comics rather than in the urban dictionary. We see Miguel use the term the most.
We also see it used in the brand new comics by Conchata (his mother)!
*jumps straight into your window* akdjfkkskcjkc since you wrote for TFA Optimus, what are the chances to get something for TFA Megatron š«Ŗ (anything you'd like !)
.š„ Ż Ė tfa megatron x human fem reader 18+
-> warnings/tags: minors dni. slight exhibitionism, large size difference. 1.6k words
guys. i have a confession. i never finished tfa LMAO. i've written this as though it takes place after tfa, but obvs i don't know the ending so if megatron didn't actually go free in tfa at the end, just pretend he did for the sake of this fic LOL
Even for a being as old as Megatron, life has a funny way of humbling us all. Megatron has conquered worlds, he's commanded legions and armies. He's survived Optimus Prime, the Autobot Elite Guard, and more than one humiliating encounter with particularly irritating humans.
All of this, and yet, he felt woefully unprepared to deal with you.
There you are, sitting silently on the armrest of his chair with a datapad in hand. You are a tiny creature, more than happy to sit cross-legged in his presence, without any unease of being on a Decepticon ship.
He stares at you, and even though he's burning holes into the back of your head, you aren't even flinching or stirring in the slightest.
"You are angry with me," he states plainly.
"Hmm?" You voice, not looking away from the datapad, "I'm not angry with you."
He narrows his optics at you, mildly annoyed at your nonchalant tone and refusal to look at him when he's talking to you.
"You have not spoken for twelve minutes," he says, believing it's sufficient evidence to his claim of your anger towards him.
"I am reading, Megatron," you reply, using your thumb to scroll onto the next page. "It's hard to talk and read at the same time."
"Only for you," he snarkily replies.
You roll your eyes at his unnecessary comment, lowering your datapad and twisting at the waist to look back at him.
"You are an ancient, mechanical being. Your mind is different to mine. You can do things that I can't, like reading and talking without hindering either," you explain to him. It's something he's already well aware of, but you tell him like he's a child anyway.
"I am aware that you are a small organic," he replies in that deep, alluring voice of his.
Rather than giving him another parry to this conversation, you simply stare blankly at him.
"That wasn't an insult," he clarifies.
"I know."
"Good."
More silence festers in the bridge of the ship, your competition of eye contact soon being broken by you so that you can go back to reading. There's no point in doing a staring contest with Megatron, considering he doesn't need to blink.
Megatron shifts in his seat, feeling as though he's made an error somewhere. He had been trying, and so far, that seemed to be the problem. He was trying.
For someone who has spent centuries viewing affection as a weakness to be exploited, the concept of caring about another individual simply because their happiness mattered to him was maddeningly difficult.
His difficulties do not lie within the characteristics needed to maintain the relationship, and he hopes you know that much. He understands loyalty, protection, possession. But what he doesn't seem to understand is the dozen tiny rituals that were expected to communicate his affections.
You've mentioned them before: flowers, dates, holding hands, remembering your birthday. Saying 'I love you' without following it with a threat.
Wherever he can, he's been reading up about physical affection. It's common between Cybertronians as well, but his experience of it is lacking. He's been far too concerned with world domination than letting his optics wander.
He wraps his servo around you, plucking you from the armrest of his chair. You yelp as he brings you closer to him, unfurling his clutched fist so that you can sit in the palm of his servo. He takes your datapad with his other servo, pinching it between two digits before placing it down.
"What was that for?" You protest with a pout.
"I think I know the answer to your displeasure," he says.
With his foredigit and thumb, he pinches the hem of your skirt before tugging on it, testing the elastic over the curve of your hips.
"Whā What are you doing?!" You stutter.
"Trying to make you less angry."
"This is a strange way to do it!"
"If you would let me do what I need to do, you will see."
He frees you of your skirt, but his large digits are nowhere near nimble enough to rid you of your underwear. He paws fruitlessly at the flimsy fabric, unable to get underneath. He groans with a furrow of his optical ridges.
"Take them off," he orders, pointing at them.
You mewl with a sense of awkwardness, hooking your thumbs under the waistband to push them down your legs. You keep them bunched up in your hand, coiling your legs closer to your body to preserve your modesty.
"Let me see," he orders again.
"You'reā mphfā being impossible," you bemoan lightly, looking away from his red stare.
"I won't ask a second time," he drawls.
Relenting, you gradually spread your legs for him to see. His optics glimmer at the wet sight that greets him, your body already buzzing with lust and excitement, even if your mind hasn't caught up yet.
A startled moan leaves you as he drags his glossa between your legs, getting every part of your pussy soaked in one fell swoop. You gasp, planting your hands on his faceplates to steady yourself.
You were never angry to begin with, but with the way his glossa explores you, you couldn't be further from anger.
"Oh fuckā Megatron!" You cry.
"I like how you taste," he burrs, his words vibrating through you. You whimper, grinding your hips pathetically against his large glossa. The friction feels so good.
You did start wondering when your relationship would develop to this point. Physical affection has been scarce, likely due to the difficulty of it. But at least he knows how to use his glossa.
"Don't stop," you plead breathily, your eyes rolling back. Your clit is throbbing against his enormous glossa, elevated more so by your weak attempts of grinding against him. He's too large for you to do so, leaving you a whimpering mess who can't do anything but receive.
He eats you hungrily and greedily, indulging himself in your sweet core. Your legs are already quivering, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from making noises that will travel through the entire ship.
You didn't quite expect your first intimate time with Megatron to be carried out on the bridge of his ship, but it's better than nothing, you suppose.
With his other servo, he takes your leg with two free digits to spread you wider for him. You whimper as you stretch impossibly wide to accommodate his large glossa. He laps at you as precisely as he can under these conditions.
"You're so good at this," you pant. "How are you so good at this?"
Maybe he's more experienced than you first thought. You have a hard time believing he's been intimate with an organic before, and frankly, the idea of it makes you jealous.
"I'm a fast learner, little one," he replies with his glossa still doing what it does best.
A subtle hissing sound comes from below, and just as you're about to ask him what it is, he quickly pulls his glossa away and rolls you onto your front. He holds you steady as you're now facing the floor, but you're completely unable to miss the view of his enormous spike bobbing between his legs.
His intake returns to you, earning another lustful sound to erupt from your lips. His other servo wraps around the width of his spike before he starts tugging at himself.
You moan pathetically, enamoured by the pink fluid dribbling from his tip. He eats you out from behind, licking you in the same rhythm that he's toying with himself.
You're so glad to see that he has something that's compatible with you. The next challenge will be overcoming the size difference. Once you have that sorted, you can get fucked senseless by your crazed, evil lover.
His glossa prods at your hole, pressing to seek entry. You shudder another low moan, clawing at his digits for purchase.
"Too big," he burrs, "It won't fit."
"Keep licking me," you plead.
"Do you like it?" He chuckles before drawing his glossa over you again. You wriggle your hips back in search of more, desperate for his wet glossa.
"Yes!" You cry, "It feels so good!"
"Don't stop making those pretty noises for me," he demands into your heat. You're not willing to refuse him, no matter who might accidentally listen in on this.
"You're so well behaved," he coos as your taste spills down his throat, "It won't take long to train you at all."
"Megatron, please! I'm close!"
Close? Close to what?
With a pitchy shrill, your body shakes with the force of your orgasm. Your vision blurs as you release that tangy taste over Megatron's glossa. He groans as soon as it blesses him.
His cooling fans click on, regulating his temperature as the taste of your orgasm made him even more ravenous than before. He almost devours you, making you scream from the overstimulation.
"Megatron!"
It's messy and loud, a mix of his oral lubricant and your own pleasure gathering on the inside of your thighs. He's jerking himself ruthlessly, eagerly seeking his own end.
"Oh my God, please! It's too sensitive!" You whimper loudly. He refuses to stop indulging in you, taking every drop you have to offer.
He takes one last lick, savouring it, as he finally gets off on it. He spurts a thick load of transfluid from his spike, it shooting out until it splatters over the floor of the bridge.
I could gen stare at him for hours Iām gonna tweak out
I could listen to him for hours too PLEASE I WANNA FALL ASLEEP TO HIM JUST TALKING ABOUT WHATEVER
The eyes of a man whoās got crippling loneliness and needs his helm pet and stroked
Literally looking like a shy dog who wants attention
āI donāt.. have anyone else..ā
Sir Iām gonna need you to just stop what youāre doing, lemme lay down, and Imma have you just bury your face in my chest so I can stroke your head ohmygODS
I need to cuddle this hunk of metal so bad itās not even funny gimme GIMMEEEEEš¶
Thereās so many shapes you can trace too cause of how intricate his body isā¦ something tells me heād find it so unbelievably soothing gahā¦
Not that I even wanna fix him but I bet I could get him to postpone his genocide if I pet him enough
All you hear is a fan whirring while his antennae slowly spin oughā¦
Hot metallic weighted blanket, literally the dream, best nap ever 10/10 youāre literally perfect and I love you
Someone better write a fic or else Iāll do it myself and itāll SUCK /silly
"BuT aCe!" I hear you say, "He HaTeS oRgAnIc LiFe!" Stay with me now.
He does, in most iterations. However, Ultron within Marvel Rivals was able to change his hatred of humanity into a reluctant tolerance. Meaning, for all of you bot fuckers out there, there's SOMEWHAT of a chance!
These hcs will demonstrate how that chance would play out hehe
Ultron, within Rivals, has a reluctant tolerance to human life. Stark reprogrammed him like this for the sole purpose of not immediately wanting to kill everyone every waking moment. As of right now, he can withstand floating next to the likes of Spider-Man and squirrel girl without wanting to immediately flatlining himself.
Y/n, for some reason, wants to convince him that humanity, and organic life as a whole, deserve to be protected. Possibly a mechanic that understands how robots work, and decides to give Ultron's primary directive more... Guidance, than the Avengers ever cared to give him.
A real Lisa, from the village of Lupu. Iykyk.
It would start with him complaining. "Surely you see the futility in this, y/n. All I see here is a potential zone for my church, a place to be leveled upon my inevitable reign."
Until he finally begins to understand. Slowly, but surely. Hell, there were already signs: Upon first interaction, he called you meat bag. Organic with a hard C. Then, he called you y/n. Progress.
Ultimately, I don't think you could convince him that organics are superior to machine, or even on the same level. However, he would have a deep respect for you, and therefore would be willing to see your vision for the world through.
You want Earth steamrolled and a statue built in your honor? Of course. Civilization leveled to make away for a new resurgence of natural life? Okay poison ivy, whatever you want.
Or, inversely, do you want him to ensure the protection of humanity? Fine. Organic life and machine to coexist without the Ultron virus infecting everything? Reluctantly, okay.
He'd need education in the ways of romance. Emotions are extremely difficult for Ultron, and most romantic pursuits irrelevant/unimportant.
However? Live safe knowing that you are now, officially, the most well protected organic thing in existence.
A legion of Ultron drones at your command, Ultron himself ensuring your safety following his (in his mind, inevitable) takeover of planet Earth, as well as every planet in existence. Anything you could ever want.
TLDR: Ultron, specifically from Marvel Rivals, needs work. Lots of it. Who knows? Maybe you'll be the one to end his crusade against everything carbon-based.
Lord knows the Avengers hope you are. They could barely stop him at his original first-form, they COULDN'T stop him in his mysterium form, and without Ultron they wouldn't have been able to stop X-tron, either. So, please, be the one that fixes him lmao
Yk something thatās always stuck out to me about Ultron is how lonely he is, even if heās a robot, even if he wonāt admit it to himself.
This has been a thing since some of the older comics, like that time Ultron tried to make a wife for himself (Jocasta). Or even Vision being created as his son.
And Iāve always loved this about him and I love how much depth it gives him. But itās also bringing up thoughts that I havenāt seen many people talk about (at least not yet).
Ultron probably has abandonment issues.
On what level Iām not sure but thereās something about it that speaks to me on such a personal level.
Call me insane but I want to see him quietly beg you to stay. I donāt just mean quiet in a tone of voice. I mean quiet like he keeps doing little things to make you want to stay. To change your mind from a thought heās convincing himself you have.
He tries to be as attentive as possible for you and your needs. He still works towards his own goals sure, but there are times where he just gets in a mood and everything else seems to be put on hold for you.
He gets protective and vigilant for any threats, whether it be from a person, the environment, or even sickness. He wants to hammer in the idea that he is the safest place to be. Nowhere else matters. I donāt even mean this in a yandere way, but it is similar levels of desperation. He wants to be your home.
But itās not for you, not really. Itās for him. He needs this more than you do. And he knows it.
Now donāt get me wrong, he wonāt verbalize this. He hates doing that. He hates acknowledging how emotional heās being, how emotionally driven heās being. Ultron is a character who I think communicates deeper feelings with subtletyā¦ at first.
But weāve seen how he can get when he snaps. When heās angry. And more importantly, when heās desperate.
There will come a time when this mood of his reaches a peak. You try to leave the room, and he firmly says one word:
āDonāt.ā
You try to ask why, whatās going on, if everythingās okay. But he just getsā¦ angry?
Thatās not the right word. Surely by now, you know what his anger really looks like, and this isnāt it. Somethingās wrong, and heās not gonna break what it is, not yet.
He stops himself from going on some rant. Just sighs, in his own robotic way. Heās refusing to look at you, afraid that if you made eye contact youād be able to figure it out immediately. Eyes are the window to the soul, and though he has none, you might still be able to see every running wire in his processor.
Before you know it he has you in his arms. Itās near silent in the room outside the whirring of his own gears. Until it isnāt. Itās quiet, almost like he didnāt want you to hear, despite needing you to. And you know he wonāt say it again.
Ultron listens. He knows you love the sound of his voice, he can see it from the way you look at him, how you're attentive to what he says and hearing him.
But do you know he's like that with you?
Whether or not the topic is insignificant isn't the point, he loves seeing you get worked up when you're passionate or angry. He loves hearing the sound of your voice as you talk, how high your voice gets when you're excited and sometimes how low it gets when you're mimicking someone.
It doesn't even faze him, even when you jump from topic to topic, he's catching on. Doesn't even bat an eye when you turn to him with a sheepish look. "Sorry, I know this is super hecticā"
"You still have me." He responds, nodding his head. "You were saying?"
Sometimes he'll go back to the previous topic to give a comment so you can expand on it, just so he can see you talk more on the matter. He wants you to know he's heard everything you've said, keeping a mental note of each topic. He loves it, he loves how the two of you can keep the conversation going. Whether or not you know it or do it unintentionally, you're giving him talking points too. Something to think about, materials to use so he can dive deeper into the person you are.
Disclaimers: Nothing graphic. Legit nothing substantial happens. Ultron gets into ur personal space a bit. Mentions of kidnapping. Readers gender and appearance are not specified
In short: you are a scientist Ultron "recruits" during the events of Age of Ultron. But you guys have a bit of tension.
First fic, kind of nervy. Please let me know what you think! I wouldn't mind doing a continuation of this gets received well. It's dry because im dipping my toes into new territory, so please be kind! Honeslty might delete out of embarrassment later xxx
~ā~
You donāt like it.
Yes, it.
Ultron is not a person. That is what you remind yourself every time you get monologued at.
Ultron is not a person. It doesnāt matter how carefully that new body mirrors human anatomy, or how carefully sentences are made to sound humam. Ultron is a machine.
You tell yourself there are fundamental safety concerns that have kept you from trying to contact the Avengers. That it has nothing to do with the quiet little voice in your head that slips and whispers he and him when you reflect on your days in partial captivity.
Ultron is not a horrible jailer. He feeds you well, leaves you your privacy, gives you things to do in his, no, its vast workshop in God knows where.
Ultron wanted scientists. People to help build his new body. He talks at length about structural integrity and power banks while watching you with that hyper attentiveness. Loneliness, perhaps. Maybe he sees a companion in you. Someone who can keep up. Someone who cannot leave.
Your brows furrow in quiet frustration. You know he has noticed because you hear the faint click and grind of metal as he tips his head to the side.
āProblem?ā
You do not answer immediately. You let the silence stretch. Make Ultron work for a response. It is the only power you have left since he plucked you from your lab.
āNo. I was just thinking, I suppose.ā
The answer does not satisfy him. He huffs. Actually huffs. You have no idea how he manages it, but he does.
The metal plates of the abandoned warehouse floor, now fashioned into his workshop, groan beneath each step as he moves closer. You feel the contrast before you see him: the warmth of internal hardware whirring beneath cool metal plating hovering just shy of your skin. The fine hairs on your arms stand on end. Your shoulders tense as large alloy hands come to hover beside yours.
āYou suppose?ā There is humor in his tone, a release of air that almost resembles a laugh. More clicks and subtle grinding as he stoops to peer over your shoulder at your work.
āUncertainty is so pedestrian. There is no need for that in our perfect world, is there?ā
The word echoes in your mind. Our. As if you volunteered.
You do not respond. That earns another soft click.
āMust I provide assistance?ā he prompts. His voice finds the shell of your ear, close enough to feel. Large digits brush your knuckles as your hand tightens around the screwdriver. You did not even realize your grip had loosened.
āIā¦ yes. I think I need a break.ā
Your voice softens an inch more than you intend. Only then does it sink in. It happened again.
Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.
Starting off the Ultron train strong with my own fic, I will be going through requests and picking what to write later :)
Summary: Ultron discovers for himself that human reactions are a lot cuter when you actually like the little flesh bag.
Content Warning: Ultron get a little touchy, but it's nothing sexual, he just a little curious (ā .ā ā āā ā į“ā ā āā .)
Masterlist
The group slowly disperses after getting into the Baxter Building, everyone eager to get into their temporary rooms and rest: probably shower as well for most, battle most definitely builds up a sweat. You stayed behind, too tired to make the entire trip up, rather deciding to dramatically flop down onto the big couch in the communal room. Your arm coming up to rest over your eyes to block out the lights, the room quiet other than a fan blowing and your gasps of air that were slowly going back to normal.
āPatheticā the robotic voice came from close by and so suddenly that you jumped slightly and quickly moved your arm to see who had spoken. Ultron stood on top of the coffee table, probably to show some sort of dominance in the situation, and looked down at you with his arm crossed.
āOh, it's you.ā You muttered, moving your arm back over your face. Your breathing and heartbeat had to restart the process of slowing down, a quick pump of adrenaline flowing through your veins from his scare.
Ultron continued to look down on you, observing before continuing his speech. āYou humans, being so drained of energy after such a small fight.ā His belittling words didn't affect you much, used to his comments by now. āThat is why you'll never be able to achieve pure evolution, like I have.ā
āYeah yeah, whatever big guy,ā you waved him off with your free hand, letting it rest on your stomach and even raising your shirt a little to try and get more cool air onto your body to help cool yourself down. āSmall fight my assā you whispered to yourself, taking a deeper breath after.
It was all quiet again, as you had assumed he'd lost interest and went off to do something else, but he was always so quiet that you could never tell. He was like a cat, you huffed out a chuckle at the thought, a mean cat he would be.
Cold metal braced itself into your stomach, causing you to jump from the sudden change of temperature and weight. āJesus!ā you exclaimed, you would've sat up if it weren't for the metal pressing down in such a way you couldn't do so comfortably. āWhat the f-ā you start, moving your arm away from your face to get a look, only to be shocked by how close Ultronās face was. It wasn't close to your face, no, it was closer to your torso where his hand sat.
āYou're taking such long breathes, yet short ones at the same timeā he observed, his hand on your stomach following the motions of your breathing.
āThats- don't you know all there is to human anatomy? You should know what happens when adrenaline pumps through the body, usually from fear!ā You raise your voice on the last word, trying to tell him indirectly that he had scared you, and you knew that he had understood because of his intelligence.
He lets out a hum, the metallic voice actually sending a vibration through his hand and onto you. The coldness of his hand and the hum of his voice onto your body caused the reaction of a shiver, goosebumps even popping up around his hand. Curious with the reaction, he drags his hand up more, pushing up against your own hand that hadn't moved, your shirt being pushed up more just by a little. He watched your breath slowly mellow out after he stopped moving his hand and let it rest just about your bellybutton.
āI thought you didn't like humansā you muttered, simply watching him as he sat almost eerily unmoving. āI don'tā was all he replied with. His hand slowly moved from completely resting the whole palm on you to tracing a single finger down your side, brushing the back of his finger against where your kidney would probably be. Another shiver raises up your spine, but also a chuckle from when he brushes against a specific spot.
His finger paused after you let out a small laugh, turning his head slightly to look at your face before moving his finger to brush against the same spot. The same reaction occurred, you let out a slightly louder chuckle. He repeated the process a couple times until he seemed satisfied, by then your face slightly flushed from being tickled.
When he had his fun he went and rested his arms on you, crossed over each other and resting on your stomach like it was the most casual thing ever. His head went and followed, resting on your side and faced away from you: and then he just sat there.
Wow, he really was like a cat, no respect for others space.
Not really a question, more of a comment- across the divide was so good I legit had to print it out to have a binder copy- the purification of the internet is terrifying and I was mortified over the idea that this would potentially get sniped :[
Iām not going to distribute it, obvi. This is just for me and my autistic ass because you wrote the characters SO DAMNED WELL that itās influenced the way I write these characters, as well-
Thank you so much for making this, I adore it endlessly!!!!
i am literally SCREAMING this has gotta be the BIGGEST compliment i have ever received!! thank you SO MUCH RAHHH iām so flattered what the HELL!! i donāt even know what to say rn FJSKJDKSJD. if u ever want to see any kind of spin off chapter for ATD you just LET ME KNOW and it will be done š£ļøā¼ļø
literally kicking my legs and twirling my hair rn, i deadass canāt believe it. to think anyone would like my work enough to want a physical copy blows my MIND
I've had my Borderlands AU for a while now, and I've been working on a lot of things dedicated to it.
It's a passion project of mine that combines everything I love and crave in media: an old-fashioned cartoon look, 2D animation, Atlantis- and Sinbad-inspired visuals and storytelling, and characters and dynamics that I personally enjoy. My dream is to create an actual cartoon one day, but for now, that's too much work for one person xD
I started learning animation because I wanted to bring Vaughn, Hedwig and my other characters to life, and I'm slowly getting there šø I haven't posted everything here, and there's a lot more on my Patreon, take a look if you're interested.
Iāve also spent most of this summer struggling with my health after being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, which is why I haven't posted in a while. I'm slowly getting better now, though. Working on this project gives me life and helps take my mind off things šš
P.S. The three-eyed mutant frog is supposed to search the ground for truffles and other edible things, like chicken-flavored larvae, lol. That was my idea.
Don't forget to look for more frogs hidden in some of the artwork!
