#insecticon

[diblmetta]

Comm for @/opti404

[twisted-wirez]

I think the g1 Insecticons modifying themselves to not need energon, but becoming more insectoid and of earthlike is really interesting. Especially in the context of a very resource driven war like g1.

There is technically a solution to the energon problem, become bugs. But neither the Autobots, or Decepticon, are interested in giving up their energon reliance, If it means becoming a bug or more earthlike invertebrate critter.

It's one those cool concepts to play around with thematically, that was completely unintentional and unthoughtive by the writers. Also good for fan lore.

[supermetalneo]

im surprised the dinobots and insecticons never had a real fight because the insecticons kinda feel like the decepticon dinobots to me. dont ask me to explain its just vibes. + them being connected to earth.

[crow0king]

bug posting!!!!

(feast)

[moderatly-fast-chickens-blog]

Chopshop Cyberworld’s number one FAN biggest SUPPORTER weird little FREAK

[transformers-synergize]

Transformers synergize Chapter 2, page 67-71

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last pages before 2025 happy new years

[transformers-prime-comics]

#53–55 Subway Mystery (fan translation)

[revelboo]

Hi Revel, I just got another Kickback figure today and I was wondering if you'd be able to write something for Kickback and reader getting to spend some alone time together while the other bug husbands are away?

Sure! 🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️ DubC0n

Persuasion

Kickback x Reader

• Watching his brothers leave to hunt, Kickback turns his attention back to you and you draw your legs up against yourself, frowning. And he’s missing out on hunting, on the delight of devouring still living prey because you need to be watched. Because Bombshell doesn’t trust you not to run again and truthfully, he can’t blame his brother. Knows if you’re weren’t fully bonded to them, Bombshell would have eaten you for that. Given up on claiming a queen. Expression growing wary when he approaches, he crouches, thighs spread slightly so he’s caging you in your corner without actually touching you. Knowing that you know you’re prey to his predator. “You hurt Bombshell’s feelings,” he says, lacing his words with worry. “Mine, too.”

• Skin prickling with a flush of goosebumps even as his soft words make you want to apologize, you hesitate. Wanting to appease him, beg him to forgive you as your racing heart calms. And his clawed servos catch your chin, tipping your head up. He’s doing something, know it even as something whispers through you that everything’s okay. “Sorry,” you mumble as his other hand wraps around your upper arm and tugs you into his warmth. Part of you wanting to bolt, smelling him. Musk, blood, and rot as your mind recoils and you feel drugged. Lazy and complacent. Different from the aphrodisiac is their saliva.

• “Don’t run away again, little morsel,” he croons, chirping softly and you relax into him. Hears your confused ‘Why would I run away?’ And his voice, his ability to make others want to believe him, to trust him, isn’t as strong as Bombshell’s mind control, but it’s enough. Letting him coax you, soothe away the fear and uncertainty. “You wouldn’t. You’re right where you belong with us.”

• There’s a distant uneasiness you can’t quite get ahold of as Kickback lifts you to straddle his thighs and you brush your mouth against his jaw, his neck. Trying to figure out why he’d said not to run. You’re home, so why would you run? Sharp servos tip your chin up as his mouth slides against yours, glossa stealing inside and heat blooms inside you at the taste of him. Moving restlessly against him, he eases back to sit and you push impatiently against him until he lays back with a chuckle. That thought snags at you again, a loose string your mind can’t help but pluck at. Why would you want to leave? This is yours. He’s yours. You’re so warm, you feel like liquid need and when he releases his spike, you shift over him, pushing back and feeling him slowly stretching you. You’re their queen, you don’t want to be anywhere but right here. And his clawed hands slide up your sides, worshipping you with his touch.

• “Don’t worry, little queen,” he croons, chin tucked against himself to watch you lift up and ease down on his spike. Beginning to ride him in urgent movements, pupils dilated. He’d pushed for a human mate on a whim, wanted a loving, little queen. Someone to hold who needed them. Something more than the endless hunger, the itch to hunt to occupy him and his brothers. “All’s well,” he growls, lacing the words with persuasion and you want to believe him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to convince you at all. Hands skimming up your sides as you bounce on him, head thrown back and feeling the frantic thrum of your heart against his palm, you shatter with a cry and he grips your hips. Driving up into you in urgent thrusts until he’s overloading with a hiss to fill you. And pulling you down to lay on top of him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Feeling the warmth of you, the scent of you almost making him drool. His little, prey queen. If not for the full bond, you’d be far too tempting, a morsel to devour instead of his precious, soft mate. “Nothing’s wrong. We’re happy, aren’t we?” And you murmur an agreement as his servos tunnel into your hair. “You love your mates, don’t you?”