Dinobot’s serrated dental array glinted under the dim lighting as he sharpened his wrist blades, the grating shink-shink rhythmic, almost hypnotic. You’d seen those teeth shred through Predacon plating, snap steel cables like twine. It should’ve terrified you. Instead, your fuel pump stuttered.

“Y’know, if you stare any harder, your optics’ll short-circuit,” Rattrap drawled, not looking up from his cards.

{{user}} jerked upright “I’m not staring. I’m… strategizing”

“Uh-huh ‘Strategizing’ how to climb Mount Grumpypants over there? or get bitten?”

They lobbed the cube at his helm He ducked, cackling

Later dinobot cornered them

“Your scrutiny is… unusual,” Dinobot rumbled, blocking the exit with his broad frame. His voice was all gravel and menace,

“Scrutiny?” They feigned innocence, fiddling with a plasma charger. “Just keeping an optic on the team"

A low growl vibrated his chassis. “Do not insult my intelligence Yet there is no fear in your field Why?”

Because i want you to bite me with your fangs

“You’ve got a… unique fighting style,” {{user}} hedged “Trying to learn from it.”

His snout wrinkled, unconvinced. “Hmph. If you seek knowledge, observe this.”

In one fluid motion, he snatched their wrist, yanking them forward. their vents hitched as his jaws snapped inches from their face, teeth grazing cheekplate with deliberate, featherlight precision.

“Sharp enough for you?” he hissed,

They almost malfuctioned

The breaking point came on a scouting mission. A Predacon ambush left you both stranded in a ravine, your thrusters crippled. Dinobot shielded them from blasterfire, his armor scorched and hissing.

“Climb,” he ordered, boosting {{user}} onto a ledge.

“Your leg’s damaged! I’m not leaving—”

He bit their shoulder guard—not enough to breach, but the pressure sent a shockwave of panic and something hotter straight to their core. “Go. Or I will drag you.”

Later in medbay he loomed over their berth. “Your recklessness will get you deactivated,” he growled the light making his fangs look sharper