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-their dates are hunting and torturing the unfortunate bot that pisses them off especially the one that pisses of someone calm and composed like tarn. (even better if it's a homophobe)

-overlord loves to smacks tarns aft i am not even joking...'babe you lowkey lookin thick'💀

-y'all seen the pic where lesbians keep mascara on their gfs eye? tarns biggest love language is keeping overlord lipstick while being on top of his chasis

-they have pets...lots of pet...especially cats or birds

-overlord really does respect tarns boundary... jokes aside, he knows when his lover is truly irritated or upset

-these two are just pucci and dio all over just imagine if pucci was devoted to somebody else! overlord is slutty sure but he isn't afraid to give wise advice to tarn whenever he is in need of it

-tarn is often seeing wearing a locket with overlords name on it when he turns into his holoavatar

-overlord often teases tarn for his size and just to kiss him he picks up the bot, pins him to wall and gives kisses to him

-tarn likes to sing for overlord (it's canon it won't outright kill overlord but hurt him) overlord loves his singing so sometimes he demands it without the mask

-tarn loves to be choked by his strong arms, i am not even kidding.

-overlord fucking loves it when tarn pulls him around by his helm horns whether it be playfully or sexually.

-height difference is wild here and overlord goes all out without stopping until tarn demands him to.

-overlord reminds tarn that he belongs to him now not megatron. (bro cannot say i love you)

Death/tarn

-deathsaurus is the rough dominating one here no questions...he can intimidate tarn just by towering over him and tarn loves it...drives him wild.

-deathsaurus spoils him rotten and buys him everything one way he is the sugar daddy boyfriend but tarn outright avoids it and suggest him to not waste money on him. (deathsaurus doesn't listen)

-tarn loves to draw deathsaurus portraits and many cryptic one's at that...often showing him ghostly beautiful

-deathsaurus gifted him the most beautiful cybertronian tigers skull as a present, his way of showing love

-the height difference oh boy....it just makes you wonder how tarn handles him.

-deathsaurus often leaves love marks on the djd leader for others to see....sometimes it's without his knowledge until by end of day he looks behind with help of mirror and sees scratch marks

-tarn loves to trace his fingers on the scars and deathsaurus traces on his face...it's their love language

-deathsaurus might not show it but he worried for tarn and his mental health...it's canon tarn hurts himself and his face wound is never fully fixed because he always claws on it, so deathsaurus puts it to stop if he walks in on him doing it.

-their kisses are very passionate and deathsaurus puts his dragon like tongue to good use.

-he reminds tarn that he no longer is in wicked clutches of megatron and to him tarn is much more without the mask.

Tarn singing opera and can be heard within every nook and cranny of the ship. He’s not using the announcing system, just singing and getting really into it. (If you know opera singers, then you know their voice has to reach the back of the massive auditorium.)

Tarn has a sweet tooth but would rather die than admit it. Overlord doesn’t like sweet things. He likes cannibalism too much.

Tarn talks a lot. Overlord talks a lot. They both hate the other talks a lot and won’t shut the fuck up. Though, sometimes, they will be quiet and simply listen to the other. This is rare however.

What if Tarn had super sensitive hands like a medic because Megatron wanted to be one. And I think he was modeled to be an ideal Decepticon in every aspect.

Tarn is technically older than Overlord. Neither really cares but Tarn can and will be petty about it.

Overlord has a crippling fear of being defeated from losing just one match that it gave him a complex, so he would never give up control in any situation. And if you think he’s given up control, he really hasn’t as he’s planning something.

Overlord is possessive over things that are his. Decepticon claim culture. Tarn has one. It’s clearly visible and on the side of his neck that his facial scaring is. The placement was purposeful.

Overlord throws out pet names like it’s money at a strip club. Tarn is sick of his bs at any given time.

If Overlord had like casual friends, he seems the type to be the friend that kisses you on the cheek. Or licks your cheek. Out of nowhere every time.

Tarn’s biolights flare and flicker to a brighter color when his charge is high, they are highly sensitive to touch. Getting dirt or organic matter in his biolights is hell. The lights also react whenever he overloads. Overlord is acutely aware of this and takes full advantage of it.

If Tarn ever called Overlord, ‘my gladiator’, he’d be all over him. That’d be such an instant turn on.

Tarn’s time during the Senate left him with a crippling need for touch as he had been starved of it. When he was Glitch, his outlier was out of control. Frying anything or anyone he touched as the experience as a whole left him humiliated. That’d be enough to make him force a sense of distance between everyone even after his outlier was honed into his deadly voice. He has a secret want to be touched and held like he’s worth something but would aggressively refuse any attempt at gentleness.

Tarn: I can’t stand you.

Overlord had found him just outside the command room, staring at the floor and picking at his digits while he steadied his vents.

There was little room for weakness amongst the Decepticon ranks, and there was little room left for mechs who could not suppress said weaknesses long enough to hold up the ultimate goal—appeasing Megatron long enough to keep their own schedules free and their free time plentiful. Overlord’s existence didn’t revolve around satisfying a higher being nor a mortal mech, unlike Tarn, so he couldn’t quite understand the weakness itself. Still, he made for an integral part of the team.

He did well. He kept Overlord’s schedule clear. He left plenty of room for a bot’s own private indulgences, and most importantly, he kept Megatron happy. It was why Overlord was so willing to risk a portion of his free time for creeping up on the fidgety, trembling beast of a mech to determine just what had gone wrong.

Overlord had been several ranks above Tarn when the mech first joined them, but Tarn had proven himself worthy of both his and Megatron’s interests and attention very quickly. Plenty of time had elapsed between then and now, and Overlord was nowhere near as strict and rigid of a mech as he used to be. Being a general was exhausting, and he quite liked the simple thrills of easy world domination; it gave him the satisfaction he craved, and it left him feeling comfortable with his somewhat sedentary lifestyle. He’d earned it, after all, and Tarn had earned similar.

And yet… he here he was, still tethered to the imaginary collar around his throat, waiting on the slack of his leash for Megatron’s next move. The Decepticon leader had been moody as of late, which meant there was little room left for reassurances and new ideas. Tarn was no better than a sparkling left in the midst of a battlefield.

Overlord smiled, pitying and cruel. It was a sad sight, but something had to be done.

His downtime meant lounging far more often than he was used to, and lounging meant gaining far more than he had before. He was no better than the sweet and enticing mechas who used to populate Cybertron’s streets, their soft frames and curvy looks enough to draw in even the strongest of mechs into their clutches. Overlord liked to think of himself as the same—plump, attractive, enticing… like a moth to a flame for those around him. The look suited him. Better yet, his new lazy habits and cushy quarters to facilitate said lazy habits were perfect for unfortunate situations such as these.

Tarn hardly reacted when Overlord came up from behind, his soft frame pressed closed to the triple-changer’s slim form. It was such a shame how little fuel he preserved; he would have made a nice companion for growing fat and content alongside Overlord, but his feverish desires and devotion to Megatron were still his current downfall. Soon, perhaps. Right now, Overlord focused on the task at hand.

“You seem disturbed,” he cooed, his lips pursed in a pout as he hooked a servo through Tarn’s hip plating and drew him close. “It’s a terrible look on you.”

Most mechs—Tarn included—would have put up plenty of a fight against him. Not Tarn, though. Not right now, at least. He all but melted into Overlord’s hold, his puppy optics soft and sad behind the Decepticon insignia masking his face. Overlord couldn’t help the terrible twisting smile that returned to his face at the sight. It was just too easy.

It was just too pitiful. He liked pitiful though. He liked Tarn, too.

Tarn gave a petulant huff, but he didn’t attempt to flee. Overlord followed his gaze to the door he stood in front of, the room vacant behind it. Megatron usually would have inhabited the office on a day like this, but given his testy temperament…

He was out of office for the day, and as per usual, Tarn was inconsolable. It was as much a shame as it was adorable to see, but Overlord still attempted to chisel in a bit of well-meaning pity for him.

“There is no use in lingering,” he said, his breath tickling the back of Tarn’s neck, making the mech flinch. “Come back to my quarters for a while. Let me help you ease your mind.”

It was easier than it should have been, but Tarn followed without question, and that made things simple. Overlord wasn’t a lavish mech, but his quarters certainly didn’t disappoint. The berth was cushy, the lighting was dimmed, and the assortment of sweets and indulgent treats to further his current lifestyle were in abundance, even after a previous night of snacking. He found it just as surprising (not disappointing, but surprising) that Tarn fell into the heap of blankets and cushions just as easily as he had been swayed to join Overlord in the first place. With a much more controlled pace and steady movements, Overlord lowered himself down right next to the despondent mech.

It felt strange to be comforting another being, but Tarn was a special case. He had managed to find good grace in Overlord’s optics, at least, and between his devotion and his ruthlessness, Overlord was both pleasantly surprised and delightfully impressed. In his optics, Tarn had earned the right to huddling up beside his soft, warm frame as Overlord made himself comfortable and reached for the sweets drawer. He didn’t mind the company, and he certainly wasn’t bothered by the moody atmosphere.

“Your loyalty is remarkable,” he said, his massive fingers carefully unraveling a small oily treat as Tarn slowly cuddled closer. “You must have learned by now that Megatron can be wily and unpredictable, surely?”

Tarn didn’t respond. He had stopped heaving in breaths and trembling like a newspark, at least, so Overlord granted him the privilege of bridging the gap between them and pressing himself against Tarn’s overheating frame. His pudgy curves and soft mesh gave under the other’s lanky and sharp layers of armor, but it was still nice. Overlord took the differences in their appearance as a sign of their ranks and their differing levels in the stages of a Decepticon’s life. While Tarn still burned with the fiery hope of a mech obsessed with their ‘Con leader, Overlord had already moved onto the more indulgent side of things.

It was fine. Either end of the spectrum was fine. He liked his lazy lifestyle, and he still did his part. Even a mech like Tarn proved to be just below his level, given by the fact that said mech was currently curled up in a ball and pressed into the rolls of his belly.

Tarn apparently wasn’t in the mood for small talk, and that was fine. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for treats or sweets either—Overlord had already attempted to offer them. Resigned to simply holding the mech close and waiting things out, Overlord popped the oily ball of rich chocolate and crystal crunchies into his mouth and chewed.

Delicious as always. It was a shame Tarn didn’t want some, too.

“He will come back around,” Overlord continued, balancing one servo rubbing Tarn’s helm in soothing motions while the other grabbed another oily ball of chocolate and unraveled the foil. “Give it time, Tarn. Your purpose in his plans will become clear again soon.”

He knew verbal reassurances would do no good, but still the words came. It was all he said for a time. For the rest of the hour, Overlord said holding Tarn close and popping little balls of chocolate to munch on, all the while offering one here and there until finally, Tarn accepted the offer.

It was a strange sight, watching the mask lift just slightly before falling back down. Tarn’s helm moved ever so slightly with the motion of his jaw, and Overlord couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Still pitiful, but amusing… he was growing on him.