Hey Revel! It’s my birthday today and I was wondering what’s new with the soft au insecticons? Or You (Don’t) Know Me? They’re just so cute!
Happy birthday!
Soft Pt 8
Insecticons x Reader
• “You know our little snack isn’t poisonous. Just like I know it, it,” Shrapnel accuses and Bombshell glances at the other mech, his clawed servos flexing. ‘They’re not food,’ he mutters and Shrapnel hisses softly. “Weak and soft, soft,” Shrapnel purrs and Bombshell’s plating lifts, unsure if the other Insecticon is talking about you or him. But he can’t let it slide either way. Rounding on his brother, Bombshell snarls and Kickback nervously chirps, scurrying to get clear as his wings flick.
• Hissing as he circles Bombshell, Shrapnel hunches slightly as his plating flares in warning. Wanting to tear into the other mech. Make him admit that he knows you’re not a threat. Because he doesn’t understand any of this. Insecticons aren’t meant for this. To socialize outside the hive and make friends with food. And you’re other. Not one of them, so you have to be food. Except he doesn’t like that thought anymore and it confuses him. Makes him angry. “Not one of us, us,” he snarls, lashing out. Settling the argument the only way he knows. With force.
• “They’re ours,” Bombshell hisses as he slams into Shrapnel and the two go rolling. Circling and chirping, Kickback’s clawed servos flex with the excitement and need to get in on the fight even though he knows he’ll end up taking the brunt of it if he does. Watching as they bite and tear at each other to fill the air with the sweet tang of energon, he considers Bombshell’s claim. That you’re theirs even though you’re not one of them. Not food. Nervously swiping his claws against an antenna as Bombshell’s mask retracts to sink his denta into Shrapnel’s side, the other mech claws free, hissing.
• Energon dripping down his chin onto his chassis, Bombshell watches Shrapnel grimace as he touches his side. “They’re ours, ours,” Shrapnel finally mutters, tone sullen with defeat. Licking energon off his servos, Bombshell rumbles softly. Understands Shrapnel’s frustration, though. If you’re not food, what are you? Soft and warm. Helpless. Where do you fit in the hive hierarchy? Growling, his battle mask clicks back into place. Barely pays attention to the other Cybertronians, but he’s heard them talking about conjunxes. About human conjunxes. And you’ve been courting them as foolish as it is.
• Startling awake, for a moment you have no idea what woke you up but then you hear the tapping again. Sliding out of bed, you stare at the shadowy shapes moving outside your balcony. Skin crawling, you ease closer and relax when you realize it’s your mechs in their giant, bug altmodes. Just chilling on the side of the building, crawling around. What are they doing? And then one of them chirps before all three start making a sibilant, creaking cacophony that has your skin crawling because it’s like cicadas screaming dialed up to one hundred. Shoulders hunching as you stare at their shapes moving around on the glass, claws tapping, you back up toward your bed as you hear your neighbor screaming profanity.
Hiii, is it possible to get a future view on what life holds with the insecticons? I find the idea of a nest full of insecticon teenagers amusing as well as concerning.
Sure!
Domestic
Insecticons x Reader
• “Carrier.” Smiling as Benji groans, you have to mentally correct yourself. Styg. Because he’s decided he’s too big for his human name. ‘You’re covered in dirt,’ you mutter licking your thumb and going up on tiptoe to reach the smudge on his cheek as the much bigger mech vents dramatically, but he allows it. And you smile when his head lowers to bump your own as the tiny, blue sparkling recharging in the sling against your back warbles sleepily. ‘You’re not hanging out with that little seeker are you?’ You ask and he groans louder. ‘She’s trouble. You two aren’t fooling around, right?’
• Clearing his vents when one of his older sons desperately makes optic contact, Shrapnel adds another log to the fire and stalks over. And you frown when he grabs your arm to spin you toward him, grinning to show his sharp denta. “Let him frag the seeker if he wants. It’s what Insecticons do best, best,” he purrs, ignoring the youngling making disgusted noises when he drags you into his frame to slide a thigh between your own. ‘I’m going to need massive amounts of therapy now, sire. So thanks,’ Stygian mutters and he chuckles as your newest sparkling chirps hungrily at your back. “What’s wrong with fragging?” He growls as you laugh and lay a hand across his mouth to push him away. “Makes more Insecticons and it’s the best thing in life, life.”
• “Behave. Though, maybe it's time you have the talk,” you say as Styg’s plating ruffles up in teenage disgust. Not that you blame him, because his dads have no censors. “Ignore your dad. He’s old and only has one thing on his mind,” you add as Shrapnel hisses at you. “Two if you count eating.” Smiling as Styg’s face turns up toward the high ceiling of the lair, you’re rubbing another smudge of dirt off his arm as he gives you an aggrieved look. Making it hard to resist the urge to ask again if he’s fooling around with the seeker he has a crush on. Hopefully he’s not since her dads aren’t exactly on friendly terms with your husbands. ‘Stop embarrassing him. Let him go tear his own place in the soft meat of this world. Eat and frag. Make your own hive,’ Bombshell calls from where he’s watching a soap opera with several sparklings recharging on him.
• “I don’t want to talk about this. Why can’t you all be normal?” Stygian growls and Shrapnel smiles crookedly, circling you as you give him a look. ‘Bring back something tasty and still squirming for your younger siblings,’ he says as you retreat and he follows. ‘They need to learn how to tear the throat out of something and make the kill.’ Venting as your eyes flash, his rumbling shifts to a coaxing purr. And his son is hurrying away, growling about therapy again as he catches you and tugs you into his frame.
• Looking up with a growl when Shrapnel hands him another sparkling, Bombshell chuckles and watches you get tossed over a shoulder. And Kickback is looking over from where he’s teaching a few of the older sparklings neocybex. Hears his brother’s frustrated chirp as Shrapnel carries you off while you laugh. Probably to add to the hive again. Sitting up to scatter sparklings, he hands off the smallest to Kickback before following you and Shrapnel as the other mech swears at him and frowns down at the warbling sparkling in his arms.
Have you ever played any transformers game? I managed to find and play war for cybertron cause i was curious on why everyone loves this game and this is also my first time playing a tf game. Oh man im having a blast shooting autobots as megatron so far. He has a sparkling sense of humor and i love it. I will definitely play fall of cybertron once ive played through wfc first :D
I haven’t, but I do have one of the games on my computer and every time I swap computers, I download it again from Steam- I just have yet to play it xD
You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 26
Insecticons x Reader
• Chirping as his clawed servos slide against the side of the building, it feels like a lifetime ago since he’d convinced his brothers to claim a human mate. And being here without you feels strangely like trespassing as his wings flick restlessly at his back. Head turning at the crack of glass breaking, he watches Shrapnel shove his hand through a window, clawed servos catching at the wall and pulling with a gleeful smile at the destruction. Ripping down a wall to make a hole big enough for them to get inside before the other Insecticon mass shifts and darts inside wanting to be first to explore.
• Venting as his plating lifts slightly at the new place, he looks around. Hasn’t been in a human hive before, but everything’s small like you are. Staring at cheerful pictures on the walls with human gibberish on them, his lip curls. No one’s been here since they took you. Hadn’t scented anyone on you before, but he’d assumed someone would come looking when you disappeared. Hadn’t really cared since whoever came would never find you, but it’s disquieting to know no one’s been looking. That you weren’t missed.
• Walking close enough to the waterfall that you can feel the cold mist on your skin, you wonder how deep that water is. Maybe it’s shallow. Maybe the only thing keeping you prisoner here is your own fear. But even as you think that, you know they’ll chase you down if you do manage to escape. And they’d probably be angry. They say you’re theirs, but you don’t know how much they’ll put up with before they decide you’re too much bother. Shuffling back to the fire, you sit down and poke at the flames with a stick. Thinking of how it had felt when you’d been tangled in them. Overwhelming mostly. There’d been a feral joy that had sang through you, too. Something that had wanted to respond to the wildness of them. Something uncivilized and frightening that you don’t want to examine too closely. Coughing, you hunch into your blanket.
• Moving through your space, he reaches to touch your strange, human artifacts. Trying to find understanding in the things you left behind. To know you. Had seen you when he’d bonded you, but he knows you as well as you know them. Too different to really understand each other. But he’d made his choice for the hive. Chosen you. Bonded and sparked you. Shoving against a door frame to widen the hole as wood splinters, he looks inside the new space. Finding bedding and your nest, your scent everywhere. Reaching to pick up a soft, fake animal on a high shelf, he vents in amusement, rumbling as he stares at the glossy, plastic eyes. Why keep this? What was your reason? What does this thing mean to you? They don’t keep belongings like this. Don’t accumulate things.
• “What are we taking, taking?” Shrapnel growls and Kickback hisses when the other mech tears the door off a cabinet to dig out the boxes and cans inside. ‘Everything we can carry,’ Kickback guesses and Shrapnel bares his denta. “Human queens need too much stuff, stuff.” Grabbing a couple of the cans rolling around, he subspaces them. Why try to figure out what you may or may not want when they can take it all? Anything they can carry. Grabbing handfuls of things, he subspaces what he finds. Emptying out shelves and drawers. Whatever you don’t want, they can always eat.
Previous
Practicing… I want to add an antenna flick to them
Might be late on this but in regards to your comment about wire play, I feel like that was the majority of NSFW TF fics back in the late 2000s-2010s, around the time of the bayverse movies. Im glad the style has moved on but its so funny to think about looking back lol
I write it occasionally when folks ask, but I didn’t know that was a thing until people asked. ⚠️ blood mention
You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 25
Insecticons x Reader
• He holds you until you fall asleep again, your brow creased. Adjusting the furs around you, Bombshell slowly stands and finds his brothers. Clearing his vents, he thinks about your pitiful mewling complaints. Had said you wanted your home. Looking around the cave, he remembers looking in windows of houses he’d found as he’d hunted for easy prey. Humans like stuff. Their homes full of strange objects. If you had your human things, maybe you’d feel more at home. Maybe you’d be pleased.
• Trying to salvage some of his kill from Shrapnel as the other Insecticon keeps tearing off chunks, digging his servos into the deer’s belly to open it and get at the best parts, Kickback rumbles. Hissing in aggravation, antenna back, Kickback lashes out at Shrapnel’s hand and the other mech stills, rumbling. Before lunging at him, the food forgotten in his fit of temper. Back pedaling when Shrapnel charges him, he chirps when Bombshell seizes the other Insecticon by an arm and Shrapnel rounds on him, plating lifting.
• Hissing at Bombshell, Shrapnel sparks in warning as Bombshell’s head tips. Plating crawling as he’s studied, the cold calculation in the other Insecticon’s stare makes him want to back down. To drop his head in surrender. Snarling instead, he bares his denta. “We have work to do,” Bombshell growls, clawed servos tightening on his arm until his grip hurts. It’s a gentle rebuke compared to what he’d expected and he clears his vents, falling into a sullen silence as he glances over at you. Realizing Bombshell’s only holding back because he doesn’t want to wake you.
• Letting go of Shrapnel only when he’s sure that the mech won’t lash out and force him to put him in his place, Bombshell looks over at Kickback when the mech chirps softly. “Work, work?” Shrapnel asks, tone still angry. Maybe there’s something to help with your illness in your home. Human medicines. Striding past them, he doesn’t wait to see if they’ll follow. Knows they will. You’re too ill to try and get away. Doubts you’d try to run again, anyway. You’re afraid of them and it bothers him. Makes you easier to control, but he’d wanted an equal. A queen. Someone to help keep the other two in line. To make demands and expect obedience. Not cower and watch them with frightened eyes.
• Groaning as you wake up, your head lifts. Dimly aware that you’re still sweating, but at least you’re not being spooned by an alien space heater. Pushing up as your head pounds, you’d give anything for some advil. And it’s so stupid. Something you’d always taken for granted. That you could just go get whatever you need when you need it. Looking around the dim cave, the fire makes the shadows dance against the rough stone walls and you realize you’re alone. Shakily standing, you’re coughing and sniffling as you move around the space. Wrapping a fur around yourself, you grimace when you step in something wet and you cringe away from the puddle of blood and the deer they just left on a rock, shiny viscera spilling out of it. Finding a branch in the pile of wood they’ve dragged in, you stick one end into the fire and wait for it to catch before you explore the cave in the hopes that there’s another way out. There’s a hole high overhead above the fire and you guess that’s where the smoke is going so you’re not suffocating. There’s no getting up there to try and squirm through the gap, though. And the cave is much deeper than you’d thought, the rough stone carved away by sharp claws, deep gouges obvious in the walls. Making you realize they’ve been digging it out. Making a bigger den. You find crude rooms branching off from the main area now, the floor slowly slanting down. Becoming dirt instead of rock and at the lowest point, you find a pool of water, the bottom lined with rocks to form a basin. But there’s no way out. Except through the deep, dark water of the waterfall hidden entrance. Coughing, you drop the branch when the flame gets too close to your fingers. And you shuffle slowly back to the fire, a hand against the rough walls to find your way.
Can we get some scenario packs in honor of Mother (Carrier’s) Day?? 💐
Obviously always love our normal EIA siblings but even some packs with sparklings we haven’t really met much yet or at all? 🥹
Sure!
Carrier
Insecticons
• “Oh. Thank you? It’s um, lovely,” you mumble as you gingerly reach to take the dead bird one of your oldest is proudly holding out for you. Any squeamishness you had has slowly been killed from living with the Insecticons and your less than hygienic kids that can and will eat almost anything, but still. And you cringe as the sparkling just waits, expression expectant and you realize that in his mind, he’s brought you a snack. “I’m full,” you lie through your teeth, still smiling as he warbles uncertainly. Because being full is a foreign concept to them. “I’ll save it for later.” Reaching out to rub his antenna as he grins flashing sharp denta, you wait until he runs off to play before flinging the carcass into the woods before Bombshell can try to eat it. And hopefully another of your kids doesn’t find it and bring it right back, though you know the odds aren’t in your favor. Leaning back against Bombshell, you just want to enjoy the sun. Being outside. Hear and feel Bombshell chuckle and you groan to see what your next present is. Because so far, they’ve brought you a bit of antler, a very dried out and flat frog, a grasshopper, flowers, and some kind of animal skull.
Skyfire
• “No!” Turning at the overly dramatic toddler wail, you watch your daughter flop in her chair, head back and arms dangling as she whines the word louder, dragging it out. Glancing at your mate, your brows lift and he shoots you a resigned smile, the massive mech mass displaced and trying to do arts and crafts with a two year old in need of a nap. ‘I’m just trying to help,’ he soothes and she sobs, trying to smack the gluestick out of his hand in a fit of temper. And she knocks over the shaker of glitter all over the table to make you wince. You’re going to be finding that stuff for decades most likely. ‘Your carrier’s day card is going to be extra sparkly,’ he manages and you make a noise when you see her reach to grab a fistful of glitter. Before shoving it into her mouth.
TFP Shockwave
• That is an eerily accurate, anatomically correct heart. With heart shaped glitter and a crude doodle of the three of you on the front. Taking the card from your son, the toddler grabs at you. Climbing into your lap as you make appropriately interested noises about the card that his dad made for him to give you and your son babbles excitedly. Like everything Shockwave does, it’s not technically wrong. But it’s definitely not quite right, either. Glancing up at your husband looming and watching for your reaction, you smile and hold up the card as his antenna flick. Opening the card as your son plays with your hand, you snort at the jagged letters inside. ‘I’m pleased that I didn’t dissect you.’ Yeah. You’re happy about that, too. “Thanks,” you mumble.
Heyo Rev, long time! Things are slowly going back to normal after the pasting of my sweet fluffy boi.
Had a funny thought about the Insecticons! It’s VERY OUT OF CHARACTER of them but it’s such a crack thought made be giggle and laugh just thinking about it.
So the scene from the animated movie Storks of the Wolves having extreme cute aggression to the baby then adopting her as a wolf.
Yeah same concept but with the Insecticons 🤣 just something that made me snort.
If you haven’t seen the movie I highly recommend it, it’s actually a really great film.
I’m so sorry to hear about your fur baby, hun
Soft AU- Colors
Insecticons x Reader
• Scents you long before you even enter the stall, the way you smell as familiar as the sound of your voice or the touch of those soft, alien hands. You’re not food, but what you are is something he’s not quite figured out. Not one of them, other, but under their protection. Looking over, Bombshell goes still as you pull your cart into the stall. Hears Kickback’s startled chirp, but he can’t tear his optics away from you. From the covering you’re wearing in their colors, patterned to be a mix of all of them, part of it covering your head to give you the illusion of fake antenna.
• Looking up at a soft growl, Bombshell is striding toward you, the other two following. Maybe they don’t like your new coveralls? You weren’t sure if they’d find them cute or a bit insulting, but you’re guessing it’s the latter. “Hi,” you say, hand lifting to wave and they’re circling you, rumbling. ‘Like a soft Insecticon,’ Kickback croons, reaching to touch one of the antenna on your hood. “Is it okay?” You ask, unable to tell what he thinks from his tone. And Shrapnel is plucking at your sleeve, venting on a growl.
• “No claws or fangs, still,” Shrapnel sneers, carefully hooking a servo under your arm to lift it before reaching for your chin and you back up a step, frowning slightly. “Not much of an Insecticon, Insecticon,” he adds, head tilting as he crouches slightly. Those are their colors, though. Like you’re demanding to be included, trying to claim a place in their hive. ‘Still ours, though,’ Bombshell murmurs, a servo brushing your arm to make you turn his way.
• “I can change if it bothers you,” you’re saying and Kickback chirps, spinning you his way as his wings lift. ‘Ours?’ He repeats, bemused as he reaches to hook a servo in the neck of your covering and tug you closer and your smile is uncertain. Hesitant. ‘Why would you want to change?’ He asks, brushing a servo against your fake antenna. You’re no true Insecticon. Not even close, but he likes how you look dressed like that. Like you’re theirs. Like you’re not ashamed to be associated with Insecticons.
• Baffled as they nudge and tug at you, spinning you round before chirping and hissing at each other in their own language, they’re not being rough with you, but they’re normally not so handsy. And they’re normally not so intimidating. You’re not used to them being so focused on you. Normally they do their own thing and mostly just tolerate you. They let you wash and feed them, but aren’t that friendly. Whatever this is, you feel almost overwhelmed.
AHSGDJDIIEJDIDJDIFJ- REVEL WHY?! I just bought from your etsy shop again recently and was like, ‘Well this is a good purchase. Will save money for new merch and wait for restock.’
REVEL YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND AMAZING!!! YOUR MERCH ARE FANTASTIC!!! YOUR STORIES ARE SOME OF THE MOST ENJOYABLE READS!!! YOU ARE OVERALL AN AMAZING PERSON!!! KEEP IT UP!!!
I will continue to support your shop and buy merchandise from you as soon as I pay my bills and save money. :) Have a fantastic day and keep doing what you’re doing. You’re doing great!
😆 sorry! I tend to just use the funds from shop sales to order new characters/items. I do have four more enamel pin designs ordered, but those I doubt I’ll see until mid-May. The only other order I’m waiting to arrive at the moment has more Starscream and Soundwave uppies keychains and some holo buttons.
Soft Pt 7
Insecticons x Reader
• Venting as you show him things you call tomatoes and cucumbers, Shrapnel is aware of Kickback sneaking samples of everything you point out while avoiding Bombshell trying to backhand him for it. And you’re still gripping his servo as you chatter like he’s your friend. Like you’re not the least bit afraid of him. Even if you’re not poisoned, and he really doubts you are, there’s something very wrong with you. Your trust and complete lack of any survival instincts off putting.
• Tugging Shrapnel along in your wake, you can hear him softly hissing. But he’s not snatching his hand back. Letting you show him and the others around. Maybe he secretly likes being included? You’ve noticed the other aliens pretty much avoid your assigned mechs like the plague, but you can’t figure out why. Unless it’s the smell? They don’t stink as bad now that they’re grudgingly letting you wash them, though. Maybe it’s the weird noises they make then. Or the prickly tempers.
• Rumbling a low warning when Shrapnel mimes opening his jaws wide and leaning down to bite your head off, Bombshell shakes his head and his brother growls, head tipping dramatically up toward the sky. You’re not food. Isn’t exactly sure what you are, but he understands the urge. It’s not like he hasn’t fantasized about devouring you, how you’d taste, the sounds you’d make as you struggled and eventually stilled. And this isn’t something he entirely understands. But if they eat you, he’ll never see you smile again, never hear you laugh. He’ll get a meal and lose something more.
• Chirping indignantly when Bombshell cuffs him for stealing human food, Kickback’s still hungry. Always hungry. Eyeing you, he clears his vents. There’s not much to a human, barely a mouthful, but it’s still tastier than these alien plants. Except as soon as he thinks that, something uncomfortably squirms through him. Hunting prey is one thing, but you’re another thing entirely. A new thing. Not an insecticon. Not part of the hive, but not really other, either. Not when you leave your scent clinging to them and their scent lingers on you after you wash them.
• Servos flexing when you abruptly let go of his servo, Shrapnel has to resist the urge to hook a claw in your coverings and tug you back to him. Missing that soft, trusting hand hanging onto him as irrational as it is. “I ordered some new wax I think you guys might like. I think it’s cherry scented,” you’re saying as you look up at him. “Want to try it tomorrow?” You ask, neck craning as he steps closer to loom over you. ‘Tomorrow, little snack, snack,’ he growls, a clawed servo reaching, the side of his servo brushing under your chin against your soft throat before he steps back.
Now I'm curious as to what insecticons will do when they realize they aren't able to treat reader's illness. Sure, if they get desperate enough, they could kidnap another human for advice. However, it won't help much as they'll need the divine healing ichor that can only be brewed by a fellow human in the comfort of their settlements (chicken noodle soup)
They’re not the best at caring for others, especially an organic that would normally be lunch
You Don’t Know Me Pt 24
Insecticons x Reader
• Your dreams are fitful, uneasy things. A confusion of dark shadowy woods and half seen, gigantic shapes, a flash of biolights as you’re hunted. And no matter how fast or how far you run, you can hear them following, hissing and snarling. Waking up to a coughing fit, you feel clawed servos sink into your hair and you struggle still tangled in the fear of the dream. In the memory of sharp denta ready to sink into you. Gasping as a thigh slides between your own, Bombshell’s head bumps yours and Shrapnel is reaching around you from behind to catch your wrists.
• Rumbling as you cough and shiver, Bombshell vents against you. Waiting on you to calm. “You’re home. In the nest,” he growls as Shrapnel dismissively sneers about their prey queen in their own language. Swears he can already sense that weak spark tangled in you through your field, but knows it’s probably just wishful thinking. Doesn’t know the human word you breathe out, but you don’t sound reassured. Or happy.
• Hissing softly as he slides a palm from your wrist up your arm, his servos press against your neck and cheek and you rear back against him, trying to wiggle away. “Not cold anymore, more,” he mutters, visored optics lifting to Bombshell’s. Hasn’t felt you this warm before and you make a sudden, explosive sound that has him and Bombshell both leaning away with growls. ‘I’m probably running a fever,’ you groan, trying to push up and your face is flushed, eyes tired. You’re also leaking from your weird, human snout to make his lip curl in disgust. “Your queen when sick, sick,’ he growls, pushing you toward Bombshell and getting up to see what Kickback found them.
• Antenna flattening back when Shrapnel shoves him aside as he’s cleaning a deer since you’re picky and don’t like your food ‘to have a face still,’ Kickback hisses, wings lifting aggressively. Up until Shrapnel sparks in warning and he’s backing up, glancing worriedly at you as Shrapnel tears meat free with his clawed servos. Wilting under Shrapnel’s accusing stare, he grabs at the meat and tries to drag it away before the other Insecticon can eat it all since he’s in a foul mood.
• Shivering and miserable as you wipe at your nose, you miss your home. Real food. Central heat and air. Running water. Freaking Kleenex and toilet paper. And Bombshell tries to tug you against him, rumbling loudly. Every stupid, little thing you miss that you took for granted, every indignity they’ve heaped on you since taking you crashes over you and you’re sobbing that you want to go home even as you’re terrified that if you put up too much of a fuss they’ll decide you’re not worth the bother of keeping. Might eat you alive. Crying as Bombshell just gathers you to him, when he murmurs that you are home, you thump your forehead against his chassis. Repeatedly.
