#Bombshell g1

[em-williams]

I like to mess with my little guys :)

[swivelbot]

The funniest part of G1 is objectively Starscream’s stupid shrill voice.

[jei-rifni]

Insecticon art dump lolz

(OH YEAH ALSO THE FIRST ONE IS A DTIYS EMTREY FOR @ / collisionxcha0s :D )

[revelboo]

Lookin at the bugsbands (bug husbands), ah yes, the fucked up how i met your mother stockholm syndrome meet cute. Glad there’s drama but it really drives the interspecies supernatural alien romance relationship. These are not humans, they think similar and have concepts of our ideals and ideas, but they’re very much not human. Lovely work as always, Revel.

Thanks and yeah, that human is due for a nervous breakdown at some point.

You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 16

Insecticons x Reader

• Pretending to care and that you’re not plotting escape, you nod along as Kickback tells you about the sites they’ve scouted out for the new nest. About how nice and grand it will be. And you smile, playing along as you try to figure out if they’d told the truth or lied about the bonding thing. Because apparently you chose to full bond these psychopathic, alien bugs, even though you don’t know how you did it. If it’s not all bull, then you’re stuck with them until death. Though, you’re not sure whose or how long they live.

• Clawed servos flexing as he enters the hive, Bombshell hisses spotting you and his brothers sitting and talking like you didn’t just try to abandon them and your duties. Lip curling behind his mask, he tosses the skinned chunk of meat and bone at your feet and you recoil into Kickback with a yelp. Nose wrinkling and unappreciative that he hunted for you to set his temper off all over again. “What is that?” You demand and he rumbles a warning at your tone. ‘Meat,’ he growls, stalking past without offering to start a fire for you if you’re going to be like that. You can eat it raw.

• “I’m not eating it if I’m not sure what it is,” you say, tone angry and Bombshell whirls on you with a clicking hiss that makes Shrapnel clear his vents tiredly. And you’re scrambling to your little feet as Bombshell storms over, claws flexing as he looms over you. ‘It’s meat,’ Bombshell snarls and Kickback chirps nervously, looking from you to their leader. Probably ready to rescue you. “From what?” You demand and Shrapnel laughs. Realizing what you likely think, though honestly, it wouldn’t really surprise him if Bombshell decided to be that petty.

• Trembling as you glare up at him, because they’ve pretty much told you that humans are on the menu. The deer, there was enough to tell it was a deer. This? Could be anything. Or anyone. And Bombshell makes a chittering, clicking noise that shifts into low laughter that’s somehow so much creepier than the bug noises. “Ignorant, little queen,” he growls, reaching to cup your chin in his servos as his head tips. “You don’t know what a dead human looks like?” Like you should know? You’re not eating whatever that is. Was. He’s definitely still pissed at you as he lets go and stalks off. Without telling you what that is bleeding all over the ground.

• Watching Shrapel wordlessly crouch and start a fire for you, Kickback vents. Understands Bombshell’s anger and knows his brother is proud. Before he can try to go coax Bombshell with the lie about you looking for a new nest site to ease the tension, you turn. “The bond thing,” you say and he freezes. “Is it whoever’s death comes first?” And Bombshell turns to stare at you. “How long do you guys live?” Not liking your tone at all.

• Something about the way you’re suddenly smiling puts him on edge worse than dealing with Shockwave. ‘Cybertronians can live for millennia, millennia,’ Shrapnel volunteers and you’re staring right at him, not even acknowledging Shrapnel. “Sucks to be you guys then. Humans usually make it about eighty years tops,” you say with a little, bitter laugh, as Shrapnel hesitates in the act of getting the meat on the crude cooking rack he’d made for you. ‘How long is a year, year?’ Shrapnel asks. And Bombshell really doesn’t like your little smile as he turns and glares at Kickback, his brother wilting slightly. Because he’s the one that wanted a human mate.

Previous

[shnowyfox]

feliz los jibbities

optimus is uninviting them all from his wedding with sparkplug later that month.

they didn't have pride month back on cybertron but they've been doing this for millions of years and it just so happens to also be during june on earth that they do this.

side note i really like drawing brawl he's so puppy

[rabotimagines]

"Insecticon assault" GN BOT Reader x The insecticons (Noncon!)

Summary: Reader experiences a triple insecticon attack while under Bombshells' outlier ability.

Warnings: Noncon!, Smut 🔞 MDNI

G1 characters: The insecticons!

Genre/Theme: Smut 🔞 Scenario

Notes: Reader gets hit with one of bombshells mind control shells. They call reader "slave" because of this. Reader has limited control of themselves. Reader is also mostly just annoyed about the entire ordeal to be completely honest. Autobot reader!

Pronouns: You, your, yours, them, they, their

You don't know how the pit you got into this situation. You were on night watch and saw some suspicious activity on the outside the ark camera so you noted it to Teletraan 1 to alert the others if you didn't relay back in a few klicks and went to check it out. Next thing you know, you're getting electrocuted so hard your senses reset themselves. You come to on your back with the spark damned insecticons standing over you. You jerk upwards, ready to physically bash your way out if you have too, only for Bombshell to shove himself forward and something to strike you in between your optical ridge.

You have half a nanoklick to realize you're fragged before your frame slacks of its own accord under Bombshells control. "Ha lucky- lucky! We got the one we wanted! Wanted-!" Shrapnel grabs at your faceplate and tilts your helm side to side.

"Autobot slave! You'll forget how to use your communication system while under our command." Bombshells voice is ringing on your audials, and just like that, you forget exactly how to use your com system. Oh Primus, what were they gonna have you do for them. Slag, what could they have you do before Teletrann 1 alerted the others-?

"Lie back slave!" Your frame slacks on the ground, and you're staring at the trees now- "Open your interface panel." Oh- Wait- This is happening? Your interface panel snapped back, exposing your array to the open air. Digits are suddenly rubbing between your valve mesh and- Oh yeah, this was apparently just happening!

"Slave, you're in control of your own frame, As long as you don't move from your spot on the ground, close your panel, or touch my shell." Your optics snap wide when you abruptly have even partial control of yourself again. And you have exactly enough time to get your elbows under you before you get jumped.

Now you're staring down, wide opticed, at the insecticons who've readily taken to slobbering all over your array. Bombshells between your thighs and using his usually hidden mouth to lap greedy strips along your valve. (Why is his glossia so long!?) You can't see him over Kickback and Shrapnel. Who are on either side of your hips and dragging their glossias along the length of your spike. Your servos had tried to push at them, but it only served for both of them to grab one of your wrists. You hissed in a vent and watched when Shrapnel dragged his glossia along the underside of your spikes head. Your spike throbbed on the insecticons' glossia, while Kickback dragged his own glossia along the side of your shaft. Bombshells digits suddenly slipping inside your valve made you buck your hips. "Slave tastes good. Good-!" Shrapnel's words sends humming fits down your spike since he's muttering against you.

You can- Can you call for help? Slag, would it be loud enough, though? It might just only make them order you to stay quiet- and Teletraan 1 should alert someone soon anyway. You just needed to hold on- Bombshell sucking hard on your anterior node makes you cry out and abruptly start overloading right onto Shrapnel. Shrapnel got a splash of your transfluid right in the faceplate, which made him jerk back in surprise. Kickback only leaned forward and started stroking your spike off as you continued overloaded all over yourself. You grunted when bombshell began to curl his digits and lap at your anterior node.

"Naughty slave." Kickback murmured and started lapping at your spike again- like you hadn't just overloaded. Shrapnel wiped your transfluid off of his faceplate and lapped it off his own digits before joining Kickback in cleaning your spike- Slag slag slag- You were sensitive still- Your digits flexed against the dirt.

"Stop-" you whined when Bombshell quickly pulled his digits out of your valve. You could see his helm suddenly, his mask back in place, and something else was pressing against your valve- "Don't-!" Bombshell bottomed out inside you with no remorse. Your back jerked, but your frame refused to raise off the ground. You could only grunt when his hips snapped against your aft in short but forceful thursts.

Bombshell groaned, "Your valves taking me well, slave." Bombshell brazenly admitted, before grabbing one of your legs to hoist onto his own pauldron. His pelvis knocked against your aft every time he thrust back into your valve.

Your attention was quickly brought back to your lap when Kickback and Shrapnel actually started fighting over your spike. Kickback finally raised a leg and smashed it into Shrapnels chassis, sending him tumbling off through the shrubbery. Kickback laughed and threw the already raised leg over your hip. The cons array snapped back, spike pressurizing and valve dripping onto your own plating. Kickback lowered himself, making your spike kiss his valve entrance. "Wait-" Bombshell bottomed out in you hard enough, his pelvis grinded down on your anterior node- And Kickbacks valve was suddenly taking in the entire length of your spike. Your servos latched onto Kickbacks waist, your digits tight enough to want to warp the metal underneath it.

Kickback only laughed "Big- and nice." Kickback rocked back and forth, and you whined through clenched denta. His valve squeezing down on you without remorse. Kickback didn't hesitate to get his own thighs under him and promptly start slamming himself up and back down your length. Valve fluttering over your spike and making your thoughts get even more muddled. Bombshells spike slammed into a deeper pleasure node, and you cried out again.

"Slagger Kickback! Slagger-!" Shrapnel hissed, scampering back over to where you were. You didn't even have the chance to glance at the angry con. Too focused on getting fragged and rode with no regard. So you weren't exactly ready when Shrapnel suddenly straddled your throat with his array out. "Use your glossia slave! Slave-" Your mouth opened on its own accord, and Shrapnel didn't wait to sit his valve right on top of your faceplate. Your muffled noise of protest only made Shrapnel grind down on you with a huffy laugh. Your servos abandoned Kickbacks waist and clung onto Shrapnels thighs instead. Your glossia moved itself against Shrapnels mesh and node. At least he didn't taste terrible (Small mercies.). But Primus, they were using you like an interface toy!

You groaned against Shrapnel when Bombshells spike smacked into another deeper node in your valve. You instinctively clenched down on his length, which made the con groan. Bombshells thrusts only picked up till he was practically slamming back into you to bottom out every time. Kickback started picking up his own pace, his servos grabbing onto your chassis. Thighs working faster to frag himself down your spike. Shrapnel only ground down more enthusiastically, his servos grabbing at your helm kibble. "Good slave-! Take it- take it!" You groaned against his valve, and you felt your second overload rear it's helm and smack you right in the chassis.

You arched as well as you good against the three of them. Overloading under the triple insecticon assault. Kickback overloaded right after you, his valve fluttering in pulses around your spike. Kickback laughed and ground down on your length through his own overload, making you keen pathetically against Shrapnel. Bombshell overloaded next, spike buried deep as he could be inside you and pumping your valve full of transfluid. His servos were squeezing your thighs, and you could feel what you thought was his glossia lapping strips along your leg. Shrapnel finally overloaded with a breathy cackle- hips grinding down on your faceplate through it. Servos clutching your kibble tight and keeping your helm still. Once Shrapnel finally slacked, you relaxed under all three of them.

Shrapnel pulled himself off of your faceplate. You gasped in vents only to watch Shrapnel turn, so he was above your helm- you tilted your helm back to keep a view on him only to find his spike tip kissing your derma. "Now take my spike! Open up slave! Slave-" Your mouth opened of its own volition, and Sharpnel shoved his spike into your intake. A muffled noise echoed out of you when Kickback started fragging himself back on your spike again. Bombshell followed soon after and started fragging your valve again. Valve fluttering and squelching when he fragged his own transfluid out of you.

Frag- They were insatiable- they always were! Just- you just needed to wait for help- you could do that! Your glossia lapped along Shrapnels spike, your servos grabbing back onto Kickbacks waist for some type of purchase. You could survive this- just- You needed to hold on. You could hold on!

...Right?

-

It was morning, the sun streaming through the gaps in the trees. Your helm was fuzzy from how many overloads the insecticons dragged out of you. If the insecticons are smaller then you (which considering they were about minibot sized, the chances were high) They'd end up figuring out that you can take two of their spikes in your valve at the same time. After that, your valve was constantly double stuffed for the rest of the night. (If you're noticeably bigger than them, then they will attempt to fit all three of their spikes in your valve simultaneously.)

They ended up making you overload so hard at the end that your senses reset again. Only when you came to this time, they were gone. Bombshell did not pull his shell off of your helm before he left, so you're stuck on the ground- Covered in transfluid and fragged silly. With copious amounts of transfluid still dripping out of your valve. Waiting for rescue still- Primus, you wish you remembered how to use your comm system.

"-I don't understand how Teletraan 1 shorted out." A familiar voice makes you perk up- as well as you could anyway still stuck on the ground.

"There was a big electrical surge, and Teletraan 1 couldn't handle the output, so Teletrann 1 reset and couldn't turn back on. We only realized it this morning- and they sent that alert actual earth hours ago- I just hope they're okay."

Hoist! And Grapple! Primus! Okay! You could get help. And well... it suddenly made sense why you got fragged till morning with no help at all.

You glanced down at your transfluid stained self.

Yeah, there was no hiding this. You were covered in purple, dark, and silver paint transfers, too. You stared at your still open modesty panel. Which you still couldn't close because of the shell...

Slag it all. Hoist was a medic, and Grapple wasn't the type to gossip. At least your spike wasn't still pressurized. Plus, you technically just got... sexually assaulted. And neither of them were afts, so you should be fine.

Knowing you wouldn't keep what little dignity you had you through your helm back and shouted for help. You thankfully heard your designation being called back and the shrubbery starting to shuffle towards you.

At least Red Alert couldn't be mad at you for abandoning your post... small mercies.

...

And thank Primus Ratchet had replaced your baffles last week... Primus sized mercies.

[kissingraine]

18+ (this is meant to be a three-part series!)

Lust for Life — G1 Insecticons x f!Reader

• It's late May, the sun's getting warmer, and you're out on your usual hunt for the friendly arthropods in the back of your home. Evidently, you're alone—because not a lot of people can stand the little critters, and you get it. At first, you didn’t really like them either. Didn’t like them, but still curious about the bugs. So much so that the first book you got back in kindergarten was one about them. All those little fun facts and everything.

• Now you're older, with barely enough space in your house because of all the terrariums and different kinds of dirt—because some of them die if they don’t get the right kind. And you thought you were dramatic. Well, maybe not die, but they obviously don’t thrive, and you don’t like that. You're not sure what you expected to find out here, but it certainly wasn’t this: three half-dead bugs as big as a fifteen-foot-tall tree.

• Hissing, titanium jaws sharp as razors—yet so clearly hurt. You should’ve run. This was obviously out of your league. Call for help. But then again, who exactly do you call? Bug exterminators? The government? Your lawyer?? Because it sure as hell looks like you just walked into a social experiment. Scratch that—this is definitely an experiment. One that involves giant metallic bugs. But when you run back home, you don’t reach for your phone on the kitchen counter. Instead, you reach for the stash of jelly, honey, or raw meat in the cupboards.

• Anything these bugs might like. Because you’ve never seen anything that resembles them before. New species? If that’s the case, then you’re dropping everything to help. The moment you step back into the backyard, they’re there—hobbling, moving so slow it reminds you of an old beetle about to take its final breath. They followed you?! You drop to your knees, hand on one of the creature’s carapaces.

“Shit—shit, hey there, bud. You’re going to be okay, alright?”

He hadn’t meant to let it get this far, but for his hive, it was life or death. The memory slips when he tries to recall it fully—only knowing they’d been cast aside, betrayed by the very faction that swore they’d have their own hive soon. Bombshell had suggested they find their own queen, and for once, Shrapnel knows he should have listened. Because they didn’t need to be tied down to another group—they only needed each other, and maybe a mate to complete them. Maybe that’s why. Just to feel like they weren’t alone anymore. That they had once been many, but now... it isn’t right. This feeling.

Unfortunately for them, their decision to part ways wasn’t taken very well. They could’ve handled the situation more discreetly—slipped away while the Decepticons were distracted. Not running away, no. Megatron will come for them. Left them half-dead as a taunt because the silver mech is just waiting for the right moment to finish what he started. He’s got more important things to do than deal with their hive’s betrayal—he's always obsessing over the Autobots.

Kickback is the first to notice a small organic bumbling through the woods, and he finally realizes they’ve strayed a little too close to a human settlement. But that scent... that soft, fuzzy feeling that lifts through him at the sound of your gentle breathing. It’s familiar. Warm. And many, like a hive. His mind says you’re organic, but the way his limbs drag him in your direction says he doesn’t care—not in this moment of hurting. Your hands caress him, and he warbles like a newborn larva. Sweet hands cupping his face in this alt-mode of his—he didn’t even think that was possible, since it repulsed most fleshlings they met. Or ate...

• You gasp softly. The huge grasshopper is leaking from its mouth and you’re internally panicking. Is it hurt? Bleeding? Its metal tarsus weakly pulls you in when you try to move away—and then, faintly, you realize it’s suckling at your fingers. Coating them in some alien substance. Gross, but your heart squeezes at the resemblance to a kitten nursing. Distantly, you hope it doesn’t bite your fingers off, but to you it mostly just seems like it’s nipping and gently tugging at your skin. The other two aren’t far behind—and you smile.

• You manage to break free of the mechanical grasshopper’s nigh-unyielding grip to clear out your mostly unused shed. You help them move in. As best as your human self can, anyway. You’ve pushed cars out of ditches before, but these are so much heavier—and three insects the size of a car are a feat to carry. When one of them groans, you whisper,

“Shh, you’re safe…”

You couldn’t have known what you’d done.

To the Insecticons, that was a declaration—for their hive. Shelter. Sustenance. Care. That didn’t translate to them as mere hospitality like you meant it to. It was courtship. And who are they to turn down what they needed most in this moment?

A Queen willing to prove herself.

Organic, yes—

But a Queen, nonetheless.

Next

[vibingmaquia]

Evil gay bugs or something

[crying-fantasies]

Insecticons

Masterlist

Featuring G1! Shrapnel, Bombshell and Kickback, smut/fluff/humor, CW: stretch marks fetish too(?), insect courting (goes with the mech I guess?), oral (receiving), the Insecticons do it like insects and you rock their world moving, Bombshell is into gore (caution).

Most wildlife on Earth are optic catching, sometimes colorful or dull, they have come to realize it is sometimes due to the species and the regulations of their environment or to attract a mate.

They've been on Earth for so long, they've seen it all and eaten it all, stripes and dots, wings and long legs, Kickback can't stop to compare those with the ones of his alt-mode, but also notices the lack of other patterns, he likes the stripes, for example, the way they look pretty and he has seen insects with them, shiny colors as they follow a possible mate around, flying and showing themselves to prove worthy of continuing their primitive organic coding.

He felt jealous, he won't lie about it, looking at the two things canoodling, immersed in their world, interfacing could be good, but Shrapnel is mean, he likes to zap him, and Bombshell would pluck out his wings in his version of foreplay.

So when he finds you he can hardly stop his antenna and wings from picking up at the sight of you. Suddenly understanding the reason cicadas sing at dusk, and male mantis let their female eat their head, his alt-mode may be a grass jumper, but his song makes your hands hold your little audials in distress, he promises to practice more when Shrapnel tells him to shut up. He should tell them, they are his partners, but he is also sure Shrapnel will try to steal you away, Bombshell, Primus no, he could cut you open to see how you worked from the inside.

Too much risk, it was better to see you on the outskirts of their hideout, where they wouldn't see you, and to get you away from any other Decepticon, oh, but if Autobots dared to see you he was promising to snap their helms from their frames, such is the insecticon’s way.

Not much progress was made, and Kickback understood, that maybe you only mate in certain seasons or had to eat something nourishing, it was fine, he was good with holding your tiny hands, letting you sleep above his chassis, and even changing colors slightly, one day, after your session of sunbathing, he noticed.

Could have been the warm season, could have been the necessity to show off, but his optics centered over your exposed skin so much that his visor was glowing, how could you blame him? He just saw something he never expected to see in you.

Something that he never knew would make his spark bloom with excess energy.

“Kicky, dim off the lights I can't see”

You had stripes, pretty ones at that, of a slightly different color than the rest of your skin, his spark started to cycle along his biolights, and you smiled while asking a happy “What?” when his servos and digits started to roam over the different textures on your stripes, “stop it” There was no ounce of malice as you pushed him away by his helm, his sharp denta gripped at your wrist in a playful nip.

Maybe you were entering your mating season, or not, as you just continued to sunbathe above him, not minding where his servos roamed over more exposed skin as days passed by and the heat started to rise, more stripes started to appear, Kickback counted them as a way to pass the time, solar panels doing their work as you indulged in a collection of sheets done with plants, it was another day basking in your presence.

Until he felt the change of static in the area, a single designation popping on his processor as he tried to rush you out of their territory.

Shrapnel found out about you, most likely with Bombshell tailing behind him.

It was no surprise when his fits of protection did nothing more than give him a beating as you tried to get away as soon as possible, his leader reminding him of the no humans rule, to think with his tank was one thing that Shrapnel understood, but to think to mingle with a human was another different, still, that didn't stop Kickback to try and explain his case with the obvious interest from Bombshell.

Things were laid out clearly and strictly, no biting, no killing, no dismembering, “I’m serious, Bomb”, and if you said no, Kickback was sure to protect you even if he was the youngest, assuring you to come back, his partners wouldn't do you any harm, what's more, they would like you and you, them, little by little.

But Shrapnel wanted to try, showing off his alt-mode just as Bombshell did the same, “Are not all organics attracted to these displays?”, turns out, you don't, and it was agonizing, “How can you look at my frame and feel nothing but lustful desire?”

Unsaid rejection became common, but also did the scratches, and the collective sunbathing, sooner than later Shrapnel wasn't so opposed to the idea of you near and even eating with them, fruits were reserved for your consumption once you showed up, Bombshell stopped looking at you strangely and in change started to be attracted to your stripes in the same way Kickback did, just that his servo stopped from being pulled way sooner than later.

When or how you finally caught your place in their hierarchy was a mystery, as one day you came back as always, the sun was bright and the wetness promised rusty plating and achy joints, Bombshell was in his usual sunbathing spot when you plopped next to him and kissed a side of his helm.

Kickback was thrilled to finally see an accepting gesture on your part, Shrapnel was mad for not being the first.

But you let him be first, expecting on the ground over towels and blankets you didn't want to ask their origin, his servos roamed over your body, and a bolt of electricity was evident before his digit pressed over your ribs, Bombshell hissed in warning, earning a growl from Shrapnel, attempting to calm himself, but he couldn't while watching your face so close when he rolled you over your first thought was that he liked this position.

Nothing could have prepared you when he penetrated, pumping greedily as his arms hugged you to him, pressing you a little to the front, ass up, chattering as he always does, “so nice and full, such great Earthling, earthling”, Shrapnel mouthed over your neck once he finally slammed home.

He didn't move for a while, and it made Kickback retain a whimper, imagining for himself how nice it would be to lay his transfluid inside your body, did you have a forge? If you did and it was active, then all their problems about being outnumbered would be gone.

But humans work differently from insects, “huh, who could've thought”, Shrapnel said after he growled over your squirming body, trying to keep you close and immovable as he mounted you from behind, finally letting go of the stiffness as you, the innovative, delightful creature that you are, started rocking your hips against him, earning a different kind of growl, words chocked on his glossa as he began to move too, “Wait, Earthling, wait, wait” feeling all the crevices inside, your innermost flesh pushing and turning over his nodes just right as he was a mess, sprawled over your rear, holding to you, dripping noises could be heard, Bombshell only watched, calculative as always, apparently impressed by the way Shrapnel seemed so lost in you, eagerly waiting for his turn, Kickback wasn't so lucky, last in the hierarchy meant last to be served, he was soon to reach a newfound limit while watching you pursuit release, moving and working hard for it, ready to overload as your face showed nothing but pleasure once Shrapnel started to move too.

His painful and hot array was noticed by Bombshell, but he only watched for a second before returning his optics to his leader and you, whimpering almost in silence as your face contorted in full bliss as Shrapnel dumped loads inside you.

It was messy, the way Shrapnel’s spike was drenched by transfluid and whatever your body secreted was nauseating but also made them go and clean both with purring content, Kickback was soon to start cleaning his leader but Bombshell stopped him, servo over his midsection and throwing him next to your trembling body, “go first” is all he said while tending to his leader, who almost overloads again, Kickback didn't have to be told twice before holding your hips with his servos, massaging over the stripes on your rear and the beginning of your leg struts, purring so hard at the surprised sound you made once the clarity came back to your foggy mind, just to find him grinning like a maniac between your legs, showing off sharp fangs, dermas soon touching over your array panel, or lack thereof, glossa soon following, cleaning transfluid that has already dripped away and pushed what he can save inside once again, content at the sound you make as he frags you with his glossa and the way your hips can hardly move, held back by his servos as he has dropped to the floor, kneeling to let you have some leverage, your hands come to his helm, trying to rut against his faceplate, his chuckle makes you moan by how it vibrates to your tender flesh, “told you they would like you”.

.

The G1 Insecticons always was a soft spot for me, I like their madness and whole destructive factor, but there is little of them in the series or the fandom, praying this little work gets people more worked up on them because damn, they're so fine.

@tf-kinktober2024

[nightaxels]

You already know he's going to eat it on stream.

[squidthesquidd]

Oh my gosh your squishy Transformers babies are so cuuute! It's made my day! Also I'm so glad to hear you enjoyed Transformers One. I've been trying to go see it with my parents but haven't been able to yet. I really really want to see it!

If it's ok I would like to request baby G1 Bombshell. I think he would look cute.

ok why does he have a gun on his head

[rinovarka]

Entry 3 of my “Characters with Food” series: The Insecticons, digging into Dirt Pie 🪲🦗🐞🥧

Was debating between Balinese Black Rice Pudding and Dirt Pie, buuut the latter won out in the end with the gummy works. I think it was a cute idea :] I think its cute how Shrapnel, Bombshell, and Kickback almost always are seen sticking together.

Did you know Dirt Pie was first advertised as Prehistoric Pudding, with gummy dinosaurs? So where are the dinosaurs.. dinosaur robots.. dinobots, if you will? Well….

[soundwavesopretty]

*puts your insecticons in a little jar*

[revelboo]

I'd love domestic moments with Insecticons and our armada of bug children

I love these! Insecticons giving the kids “second” names that are slightly more appropriate after realizing the human is naming them all human names.

Domestic Swarm

Insecticons

• Feeling your smallest fist your shirt, swaddled in the makeshift sling against your back so your hands are free, you keep chopping carrots and try to ignore that your back is aching. Hear a crash from deeper in the hive and you inhale. “Cade Goliath!” Because it’s him. It’s always him. The toddler an absolute menace sometimes to his siblings and you hear a chirp and then silence. Bracing your palms on the counter your mates had stolen from who knows where along with everything else in your kitchen, you know your kids and mates could care less about your attempts to civilize them. That they’re as happy to eat raw meat as a home cooked meal, but it matters to you. “How’s Stygian supposed to work out his place in the swarm if you won’t let him play, play?”

• Smirking when you turn and give him a look, Shrapnel leans against the counter to steal a carrot and offer it to the little runt. “Benji, is just fine,” you growl, eyes narrowed as the sparkling gnaws on the carrot, legs kicking against you. “And I’ve seen how they play. They make each other bleed.” Amused, he pulls you and the sparkling into his frame and you lay your head against him. Such a soft mate, worrying over your brood and trying so hard to protect them. Still unable to understand that the world isn’t a kind place to Insecticons. That the Autobots or the Decepticons would eradicate the sparklings as a plague if they learned of them. Clawed servos tunneling into your hair, he rests his chin on top of your head. Wants to protect you and the younglings from that reality so bad it hurts.

• Drifting into your kitchen, Bombshell stops short seeing you leaning into Shrapnel and he hears his smallest son warble. Being carried around everywhere by you, because he’s too small, too weak. Wouldn’t survive without intervention and he’s not sure what to make of you. Loves how protective you are of your young, but you’re too attached and he exchanges a look with Shrapnel. Knows humans are different, that you don’t understand and he doesn’t want you to. Wants you to be happy, for his young to live. Sliding a palm against your arm, you offer him a small smile. “Burning perfectly good meat again,” he growls and your eyes flash in outrage to make him smile behind his mask.

• Head turning at a warbling note, you smile at Kickback, the mech covered in kids. One sitting on his ped, limbs wrapped around his leg, another hanging where he’s got an arm around their middle and a third sitting on his shoulders hanging onto his antenna. And for a moment there’s a funny feel of disconnect when you realize you’re almost content. Because you didn’t want any of this. They bullied you into it, threatened and scared you. When had you started feeling anything but anger toward your mates? When had you started loving them and this messed up family? This isn’t really your home. It’s not, right? You don’t belong here. They trapped you and that’s not love.

• Palm sliding against your back as you just freeze, staring at nothing, Shrapnel tips your face up, a servo hooking under your chin. And he doesn’t know what that look on your face is, but it’s almost panic. “Little queen, queen?” He asks as your breathing shifts, quickens and Stygian squeals, little hand out in demand for another carrot slice and you blink. Reaching to hand him one, the moment gone. But for a klik, he’d been almost afraid and he glances at Bombshell to see if he’d noticed, the other mech watching you closely as you smile and offer carrot slices to the other younglings. Whatever that was, he doesn’t like it.

[alduinprime]

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[kryptonbabe]

Constructicons and Insecticons package designs from the 1985 Hasbro Catalog, in Transformers Legacy: The Art of Transformers Packaging (2014) by Jim Sorenson & Bill Forster