Move to a new city alone and you discover how long it takes for a place to feel populated by anyone who knows you. The first months are an exercise in talking to no one in particular. It is in precisely this stretch, observers of the AI companion trend have noticed, that people start experimenting, and increasingly they land on SweetDream.
The reason is not hard to find once you spend time on sweetdream.ai. The character creation is unusually deep, letting you craft a companion's appearance, personality, voice and history until it feels like a specific someone rather than a template. The conversation is the part that lingers, though. It is natural, emotionally attuned, and it holds onto context, so the relationship accumulates rather than resetting every time you open the app.
Compared to other names floating around the category, SweetDream tends to win on that sense of a real, remembered thread, backed up by human-sounding calls and genuinely impressive AI-generated imagery. For someone alone in an unfamiliar place, an AI girlfriend who remembers your week is a small, steady anchor. And because everything stays private and discreet, the comfort it offers never comes with a cost you did not agree to.
Tatta is singlehandedly the most underrated character in AIB. He died to save everyone and was a huge help in the show yet I barely see ANYTHING posted about him or even get mentioned
Can you do anything for Tatta? 18+ or anythingggg, I need more Tatta stuff
Tatta | Dating Headcanons
Warning: +18, smut, sfw and nsfw parts.
Note: English is not my first language so feel free to tell me if there are any mistakes.
SFW:
❥ Tatta is the kind of boyfriend who constantly has a goofy grin on his face just because you’re nearby. His naturally friendly and chill personality goes into overdrive when he’s with you. He’s always checking in to make sure you feel safe and comfortable.
❥ He lives for low-key physical affection. He’s the type who can’t help but reach for your hand while you’re walking or keep an arm draped around you. He’s just genuinely proud to have someone as incredible as you by his side.
❥ Acts of service are his primary love language. Being a mechanic, his instinct is to "fix" things for you. Whether it’s a broken appliance or just trying to lift your spirits when you’re having a bad day.
❥ He hides it because he doesn't want to seem weak, but Tatta struggles with deep-seated insecurities about not being "good enough" for you. He might get quiet when he’s nervous, but the second you give him a little compliment, his eyes light up and he feels like a hero.
❥ When he is worried about you, he becomes incredibly protective. He’ll stand up to anyone who disrespects you, dropping his usually timid nature in a heartbeat to ensure you’re okay.
❥ He finds joy in the little things: a quiet dinner, humming a song together, or just watching you sleep. Those peaceful moments are when he’s happiest, when he doesn't feel like he has to prove anything to the world.
❥ After a fight, he’s always the first to apologize, even if it wasn't entirely his fault. He hates conflict with you and would rather settle things quickly than let the vibe get heavy; his biggest fear is you going cold on him or getting tired of him.
❥ He has a habit of fidgeting with his beanie when he’s being romantic or feeling shy. It’s his emotional safety blanket, but with you, he lets you take it off so you can run your fingers through his hair, showing his most vulnerable side.
❥ If he can’t sleep, he just watches you and thinks about how lucky he is. He’s often hit with a sudden fear of losing you or ending up alone, so he’ll usually pull you closer in bed just to feel your warmth.
NSFW:
❥ His absolute favorite position is cowgirl. He loves the view of your chest and having easy access to your neck, where he likes to hide his face. He’s very comfortable letting you take the lead and enjoys whatever rhythm you want to set.
❥ When he decides to dominate, it’s a mix of sensual slowness and bursts of protective roughness. He usually starts off sweet and romantic, but if he senses you’re completely surrendering to him, he gets harder and more aggressive, letting out all his pent-up tension.
❥ He has a major thing for eye contact and verbal praise. It drives him crazy to see you looking at him with blown-out, teary eyes, or to hear you tell him how good he feels. He needs that confirmation that you’re just as undone as he is.
❥ His favorite spots include the backseat of a car. Given his background, garages and cars are familiar and strangely stimulating environments for him. He loves the cramped space that forces your bodies together.
❥ When it comes to oral, he’d much rather give than receive. He has surprising skill and endless patience when it comes to focusing on your pleasure, feeling a surge of power whenever he hears you moan his name.
❥ He’s not a big dirty talker, but he’s very vocal in other ways. He’s a "rumbly" lover… lots of low growls in your ear and ragged groans he can’t hold back as he gets closer to the edge. He’s definitely on the louder side.
❥ Even though he’s a chill guy, he can get pretty territorial if he thinks someone is eyeing you too much. He won’t make a scene in public, but the second you’re alone, his drive skyrockets and he’ll mark his territory passionately to remind you exactly who you belong to.
❥ Physically, he’s average in length but notably thick, with a slightly darker skin tone and prominent veins when he’s fully aroused. He loves coming on your stomach or chest just to see the contrast, and he finds it intimate to clean you up afterward.
❥ His aftercare is pure tenderness. He’ll hold you tight, pepper you with soft kisses, and loves the idea of hopping in the shower together to keep pampering you, whispering about anything and everything just to keep the intimacy going.
The garage smelled like grease, cold metal, and the heavy rain drumming against the tin roof. Tatta was slid under an old blue sedan, hands stained with oil and forehead slick with sweat, when you walked in to drop off his dinner.
The second he saw you, an instant smile lit up his face… that familiar, friendly expression that always melted your heart but this time, there was something different in his dark brown eyes.
He was exhausted from a long day’s work, and the way you walked up to him, taking the wrench from his hand and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, was the spark that snapped his usual composure.
“Youre gonna get grease on your clothes, babe,” he whispered with a little huff of a laugh, even though his hands were already settling on your waist, uncaring of the black smudges he was leaving on your jacket.
“I don’t care” you replied, climbing onto his lap as he sat back on his rolling stool.
Tatta let out a low grunt, a mix of surprise and bottled-up desire. It wasn't often you took charge so directly at his job, and it turned him on instantly. He pulled you flush against him with a strength he rarely showed, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent to wash away the stress of the day.
But when your hands slid down to his lap, feeling the hardness already straining against his work pants, his breathing went ragged. He stood up abruptly, catching you in his arms and hiking you up effortlessly.
He carried you to the back of the shop, into the small breakroom. He laid you back on the sofa, spreading your legs to settle between them. The contrast of the cold leather against your back and the searing heat of his body made you let out a gasp… one he quickly devoured with a hungry, rough, and deep kiss.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day” you confessed against his lips. “Coming here and taking you, so you’d never forget I’m yours.”
His fingers, clumsy with urgency, made quick work of your clothes. Tatta didn't waste a second; he shoved his pants down, releasing his pulsing length under the dim shop lights.
He positioned himself, gripping your thighs firmly, his fingers digging into your skin. When he buried himself inside you in one deep, sudden thrust, you both let out a muffled cry that echoed off the metal walls.
Tatta’s rhythm was frantic, fueled by a sort of desperate devotion. Every time his hips slammed into yours, the old sofa creaked, the sound of wood against the floor mingling with his guttural grunts.
This wasn't the sweet, shy Tatta from this morning. This was a man who needed to possess you, seeking refuge from all his insecurities in your body. He stared you down, his dark eyes hazed with lust, making sure you didn't look away for a second.
“Look at me” he whispered, his voice a demanding rasp. “I want to see you.”
He grabbed your hands, interlacing his grease-stained fingers with yours as he picked up the pace. His thrusts became shorter and faster, hitting your sweet spot with a precision that had you arching your back.
The pleasure was so overwhelming you started sobbing his name, and that was what finally broke him. Tatta let out a loud, raw groan, burying his face in your shoulder as he came deep inside you, feeling your walls pulse around him in rhythmic spasms.
Minutes later, breath still hitching, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his forehead to yours. Sweat and oil bound you together in a sticky mess, but he didn't seem to mind at all.
“I love you, you know?” he murmured, giving you a soft kiss on the nose as he already started planning how to clean you up before the night chill set in.
Mentions of violence and survival context typical of Borderland
Word count: Approx: 2k
Summary:
In a world where every glance can mean danger, Tatta’s possessiveness burns hotter than the Borderland sun. When a dangerous rival dares to get too close, jealousy explodes into a desperate need to claim what’s his — and yours. But beneath the fierce possessiveness lies a tenderness that only you can unlock.
You’re not just his girlfriend — you’re his prize, his obsession, and the only one who truly knows the man behind the mask.
Will love survive the chaos? Or will the jealousy consume you both?
The sun over the Beach was merciless, beating down on survivors pretending they still lived in a world that made sense. Music played too loudly, bodies glistened with sweat, laughter echoed—but none of it felt real.
And the gazes? They were constant. Hungry.
You were used to being looked at. It came with the territory—being attractive, being strong. But when Tatta was around, he always made it clear you were his. He didn’t need to say it. His presence alone screamed it.
Only today, he wasn’t with you.
He had been called to help fix one of the cars used for the next game. So for once, you were alone—sunbathing by the pool, sunglasses on, trying to forget for a moment that you were in hell.
That’s when the shadow appeared.
— "Been looking for you," a deep voice drawled.
You lowered your sunglasses slowly.
Niragi.
Gun at his hip. Sweat-damp curls. That smile—more like a smirk, like he was seconds away from biting.
— "Why would you be looking for me?" you asked, calm but cautious.
— "Because a woman like you doesn’t belong with trash like Tatta."
Your spine stiffened.
— "Who I ‘belong’ with isn’t your business."
He stepped closer, head tilting like a predator inspecting his prey.
— "Isn’t it? I mean… you could have someone who knows what he’s doing. Someone who’d fuck you like you deserve.”
Your breath hitched. You clenched your jaw. But before you could answer—
— "Step away."
The voice that interrupted was sharp. Cold. Deadly serious.
You turned.
Tatta.
He was standing a few feet away, shirt unbuttoned, hair damp from sweat or maybe a shower, chest rising and falling with sharp, furious breaths.
His eyes were locked on Niragi like he could set him on fire with just a look.
Niragi chuckled. — "Relax, little man. We were just talking."
Tatta didn’t move.
— "You don’t talk to her like that. You don’t look at her like that."
— "Oh? What are you gonna do if I do?"
No answer. Just pure, boiling rage in Tatta’s eyes. Then… he turned to you, hand outstretched.
You didn’t hesitate.
You took it.
He pulled you away without a word, past all the Beach members who looked up but said nothing. The energy between you both was too heavy, too dangerous.
By the time you reached your room, he slammed the door shut and locked it.
Silence.
He didn’t even look at you. His back was to you. Shoulders tense. Breathing uneven.
— "Tatta…" you started.
— "Don’t. Just listen."
His voice was tight. Strained. On the edge of something dark.
— "I saw the way he looked at you. I saw you smile. And I get it. You’re polite. But baby… I’m going crazy here."
He turned, finally facing you.
— "You don’t get what it does to me. Watching someone else talk to you like that. Look at you like you’re available. Like I’m not right here."
He exhaled sharply, pacing a bit before stopping in front of you.
— "I’m not the strongest. I’m not the hottest guy here. Hell, I’m barely good at surviving in this fucking place. But I love you. I’d give up everything for you."
His voice cracked, and then dropped lower.
— "When I saw him standing that close, saying those things… I wanted to break something. I wanted to break him."
You reached for him gently, but he caught your hand and held it tight—possessive. Fierce.
— "I need to show you. Show everyone. That you’re mine. That no one else gets to look at you like that. That they’ll never touch you, never kiss you, never make you moan like I do."
He leaned in, forehead resting against yours.
His next words were barely a whisper:
— "Tell me you're mine. Just mine."
You held his face, soft and sure.
— "I'm yours. I’ve always been yours. No one else even exists."
He opened his eyes—and that was it. That was the final spark.
The look he gave you wasn’t just love.
It was need.
Hunger.
Claiming.
The moment you told him, "I’m yours,"
something inside Tatta snapped.
But it wasn’t rage.
It wasn’t fear.
It was need—urgent, raw, messy, and completely focused on you.
His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that tasted like fire.
Not gentle. Not sweet.
His mouth devoured yours like he was trying to erase Niragi’s presence from your memory.
And you let him.
You wanted this.
You needed to feel that he knew—that you wanted to be his.
His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in like he didn’t trust the world not to steal you away. He pushed you back, step by step, until your back hit the wall. The air left your lungs at the force of it, but it only made you throb harder.
— "You let him get close..." he growled against your lips, voice gravel and sin.
— "You let him look at you. Touch you. Talk to you like he had a fucking chance."
His teeth scraped your neck, not enough to hurt—just enough to make your knees shake.
— "I should fucking mark you right here," he whispered. "Should make sure everyone knows you’re mine."
You whimpered.
And oh, he heard it.
That sound was all he needed.
With a growl low in his throat, he grabbed the backs of your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing, pressing your back harder into the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your bodies aligned—perfectly, painfully.
You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, pressed against the very center of your need. It made you gasp, and his eyes darkened like he’d just won a game he wasn’t planning to lose.
— "Feel that?" he whispered in your ear. "That’s what you do to me. You walk around in those shorts, smiling like a fucking angel, and I’m supposed to be okay with other men staring at you?"
He rolled his hips into you, slow, delicious pressure that made your head drop back against the wall.
— "You drive me insane, baby. I wanna fuck you so good, so deep, that you forget anyone else exists. That you forget how to even speak another man's name."
He carried you to the bed, dropped you on it gently—but his eyes were wild, filled with possession and something even deeper: adoration.
Your clothes were off fast, thrown aside without ceremony, until you lay bare in front of him.
And Tatta… Tatta just stared.
Like you were holy.
Like you were already his.
— "You’re perfect," he murmured, crawling over you. His voice dropped, hoarse with emotion. "You’re everything to me."
He kissed your chest, your stomach, your thighs—leaving little bruises, little love bites everywhere. He didn’t want to just fuck you. He wanted to claim every inch.
And when he finally slid into you, inch by thick, needy inch, you both gasped.
— "That’s it…" he whispered. "So tight. So warm. You take me like you were made for me."
His thrusts started slow, deep—possessive.
He gripped your hips, pulling you against him with each stroke.
— "Say it," he groaned. "Say you’re mine."
— "I’m yours," you gasped. "Tatta—fuck—I’m yours, only yours."
He kissed you again, slower this time. Still rough. But there was love behind it. Desperation.
— "No one gets to touch you. No one makes you feel like this but me."
He thrust harder.
— "No one hears you moan like this. No one gets you begging."
You were a mess under him—writhing, trembling, your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer.
— "That’s it, baby," he moaned. "Let them all hear you. Let them know who’s making you feel this good."
His hand wrapped around your throat—not tight, just a reminder.
A reminder that you were his.
That this was his body, his name on your lips, his claim.
You came undone with a scream, clenching around him, and he followed—groaning your name like a prayer as he buried himself deep, trembling with the force of his release.
Silence.
Heavy breathing.
Sweat.
And then…
He collapsed on top of you, still inside, but holding you gently. Kissing your collarbone. Stroking your hair.
— "I’m sorry," he whispered. "I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I love you so fucking much. I can’t lose you."
You smiled, brushing his damp hair from his face.
— "You didn’t scare me. You reminded me how much I’m yours."
He held you tighter.
— "Always. Forever."
The room was still hot.
Not because of the temperature—but because of what you two had just done.
Tatta was still hovering above you, arms trembling slightly, breath shaky but eyes… soft.
He looked at you like you were the only thing in Borderland that made sense.
Your fingers gently played with his damp hair, brushing it back from his forehead.
— “Feeling better now, jealous boy?” you teased, smirking.
He groaned and hid his face in your neck.
— “Don’t talk like that... I’ll want to do it all over again.”
You giggled.
— “Babe, my hips wouldn’t survive a third round.”
He flopped to the side, dragging you with him until you were curled up on his chest, tangled together like vines.
His arms wrapped tight around you, like you might disappear if he let go. His nose nuzzled into your neck, warm breath fanning over your skin.
Then came the whisper.
— “You meant it, right? That you're really mine?”
You sighed—affectionately.
You sat up slightly, looking him straight in the eye, finger pointed at his nose.
— “I am yours, okay? Your girlfriend. Your woman. Your potential wife if we survive this damn death game.”
He bit his lip, trying to hide the smile breaking across his face.
— “It’s just… the guys here. They stare. A lot.”
— “And I look at them like they’re talking furniture, babe.”
You rolled your eyes. “Want me to start wearing shirts that say ‘Property of Tatta’ or maybe ‘Only rides this dick’?”
Tatta choked on his breath and shoved his face into the pillow, laughing.
— “OH MY GOD—STOP—I’M TOO IN LOVE FOR THIS.”
You burst out laughing and climbed on top of him, peppering kisses all over his face.
— “I don’t want anyone at the Beach, okay? Not Chishiya, not Arisu, definitely not Niragi and his barbed wire haircut.”
You held his face between your hands. “I want you.
You and your dramatic ass. Your clingy, jealous, sweet little heart.
I want to wake up with you. Sleep with you. Get absolutely ruined by you.
Only. You.”
His eyes were glistening now. He blinked fast, then pulled you tight against him, cradling your head like he needed to protect it.
— “I never thought anyone would… want me like this. Not here. Not anywhere.”
You brushed your thumb over his cheek.
— “Well, get used to it, Tatta. You’ve got me. All of me.
Heart, body, screaming, biting, and every jealous tantrum you throw.”
He grinned, holding you so close you could feel his heartbeat syncing with yours.
— “Promise you’ll never leave me?”
— “Only if you promise to keep being my sexy little maniac who fucks me against walls.”
— “I can live with that.”
You kissed.
You laughed.
And for the first time in this hellish, brutal world…
