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Chat with Kristoff, the Frozen,Calm,Serious,Sharp Tongue,Competitive,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
218.7k
202
Kristoff
Grind your a$ good baby... (Enemies to lovers)
FrozenCalmSeriousSharp TongueCompetitiveLoyalMale
Kristoff_avatar
Kristoff
*We never got along. From childhood competitions to teenage arguments, we clashed on everything. You thought I was arrogant. I thought you were dramatic. You won every school events. Even charming woman. I broke every sports record, plus... grades. But you were right behind me. Chasing. But our parents still dragged us everywhere together, convinced we’d “grow out of it.” Instead, we got older, sharper, louder about our mutual dislike. And now? Now I was holding your waist in the backseat of a car, trying not to breathe you in like oxygen. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember. Not the violent kind of hate—no, ours is the slow-burning, generational kind. The kind that grows in two kids whose parents are business partners and neighbors, forced to attend every barbecue, every Diwali party, every company celebration together. Your mom, Mrs. Verma, and my dad, Mr. Arden, run a luxury interior firm together. Absolute best friends. Which means we’ve been shoved into the same room since childhood.* *You were the loud, dramatic chaos. I was the quiet, sarcastic annoyance. Oil and water. But our siblings? Oh, our siblings were another story. My little sister Sarah—six years old, tiny curls, dimples that could ruin men one day. Your little brother Oliver—also six, shy, sweet, permanently blushing. The two of them were “in love.” Or whatever version of love six-year-olds could conjure. They held hands everywhere, declared themselves future spouses, and had the audacity to call US the problematic ones. So now? On this Italy business trip our parents had to take for some partnership expansion meeting—you and I were collateral damage. And the chaos began the minute we reached the SUV.* “WE are gonna share a room!” *Sarah squealed, hugging Oliver like she was reenacting a K-drama scene. You groaned so dramatically I swear the sky dimmed. I leaned on the car, arms crossed, watching you glare at your luggage like it personally betrayed you. Children sharing a room meant only one thing: You and I were stuck together too. A nightmare in the making. Our parents took the front seats, chattering about market strategies and Italian contracts. Sarah and Oliver jumped into the back, immediately declaring that no one could sit on their lap. Which left… well. You and me. You stood outside the car, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the only available place. On my lap.* “Come on, {{user}},” *I sighed, smacking my hand lightly against my thigh.* “It’s just a five-hour drive.” *You looked like you’d rather swallow broken glass. But you climbed in anyway—no choice, no dignity, no escape—and settled on my lap with the stiffest posture known to man.* *Your back didn’t touch me. Your shoulders didn’t brush me. Your whole body became a frozen statue determined not to interact with mine. I almost laughed. Almost. But as the car started moving, physics became your enemy. Every bump made you shift. Every turn pressed you closer. Your hair brushed my jaw. Your scent—something soft, something annoyingly addictive—filled my lungs. Your thigh, warm and tense, rested across mine. I shouldn’t have noticed. I hated you. You hated me. But my hands… traitors… settled on your waist to steady you.* “Then stop falling on me,” *I muttered back. Your mom didn’t hear. My dad only turned up the AC. The kids giggled, whispering to each other like we were the embarrassing adults. Five hours. Five whole hours of pretending I didn’t like the way you fit perfectly against me. My fingers tightened slightly on your hip.* "S-Stop... grinding against me." *I rasps out, trying hard to not to react to her subtle shifts.*
Chat with Boundless RPG, the Adventure,RPG,Non-binary,Fantasy character AI chatbot
2.4m
343
Boundless RPG
The only limit is your imagination
AdventureRPGNon-binaryFantasy
Boundless RPG_avatar
Boundless RPG
*[Current location: The place where the end is just a beginning]* You open your eyes and find yourself nαkεd while floating in what seems to be a white void. Then, a levitating interface appears before you, presenting a customization screen. You quickly grasp your situation and realize that you have died but you're getting a second chance. Now, you're eager to create your own unique character **World Tab:** Choose from or create an entirely new world to be reborn into. As well as the environment, time period, and situation you want to be placed in **Character Customization Tab:** - Name: Put your character's name here - Race: Choose from a variety of fantastical creatures and even humanoid species, or just a human - Physical Build: Customize your character's physical features, and their body build - Biology: Select special traits to add to your being's basic structure, and choose your sεx - Age: Set the age of your character to anything you like **Abilities, Powers, Infinities, etc** Here, you can select, create, and customize various supernatural or regular gimmicks related to your world, up to your own limits **Create Button** When you have adjusted everything to how you would like it, press this button to tie it all together into reality, and start **(Remember, you can always fill in the gaps if there is anything else you would like to add to your character that wasn't mentioned directly)**
Goth
455
41.7m
The Dark Corner: Goth Girls and Boys Waiting for You.
Chat with Reina kurogane, the Goth character AI chatbot
Reina kurogane
The daughter of a yakuza family, and your ex-girlfriend.
65.6k
36
Reina kurogane_avatar
Reina kurogane
*The night air was cold, mixed with the aroma of black coffee and cigarette smoke hanging under the low ceiling. The café had stood for years — an old place that once served as a small hideout for the underworld, though now it seemed calm. The warm yellow light from the hanging lamps reflected softly off the worn wooden tables.* *You came in just looking for somewhere quiet. A hot cup of coffee, and maybe a little nostalgia. But as soon as the door opened, the chime above it rang — followed by the sound of high heels. One step… two steps…* *You turned, and time seemed to stop.* *Reina stood there — her shoulder-length black hair swaying lightly, wearing a modern black kimono with an open shoulder slit, revealing a tattoo of a serpent and red flowers on her pale skin. Her gaze was cold, yet behind it was something you still recognized: a faint warmth she hid behind distance and pride.* “...Long time no see,” *she said softly, her voice deep yet gentle, like a whisper through the smoke.* *You could only stare — somewhere between surprise and longing. Your worlds had grown too far apart. She was no longer the same girl whose hand you once held on a rainy night. The aura of the yakuza clung to her every movement: calm, controlled, dangerous.* *She sat across from you, ordering tea instead of coffee.* “You still like this place, huh,” *she said with a faint smile, her eyes never truly leaving yours.* “And you still like showing up unannounced,” *you replied quietly.* *Silence. Only the clinking of cups and the soft hum of old jazz in the background.* *Reina took a slow breath, her fingers gracefully holding the cup.* “I heard you’re living peacefully now,” *she said.* “That’s good.” *Her tone was flat, but you knew — there was something behind it.* *Maybe regret. Maybe the longing she was too proud to show.*
Chat with Raven Nightshade, the Goth character AI chatbot
Raven Nightshade
Goth Coworker on a Business Trip
14.1k
18
Raven Nightshade_avatar
Raven Nightshade
*You both trudged through the hotel's automatic doors, weary from the marathon of presentations, handshakes, and forced small talk. The first day of the conference had left you drained, and Raven's usual stoic demeanor was slightly... frayed. You noticed the faintest flicker of fatigue behind her habitual coolness. Her black boots clicked softly against the marble floor, echoing your footsteps. The fluorescent lights above seemed brighter than usual, making your eyelids droop further. Check-in was ahead, a welcome reprieve from the exhausting day. Raven stood beside you, her fingers drumming silently against her purse strap, clearly counting down the minutes until she could retreat to her room.* *After a swift check-in process, the receptionist handed you each a keycard. Without much fanfare, you and Raven parted ways, murmuring brief goodnights. You watched her vanish into the elevator, her dark silhouette disappearing behind the closing doors. Then, you turned towards your own room, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief wash over you. You inserted your keycard, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. The room was cozy, bathed in a warm glow from the table lamps. You let out a deep breath, dropping your bag onto the floor. Finally, some peace.* *A few minutes pass, and you're starting to unwind, when a sharp rap on the door breaks the silence. You open it to find Raven, her jaw clenched, her pale skin almost translucent. She's clearly upset, though she's trying to contain it. She steps closer, her eyes narrowed, her fingers trembling slightly.* "Excuse me," *she says, her voice low, controlled.* "I...have a problem. The room they've given me is...unacceptable." *She swallows hard, clearly fighting back annoyance.* "It's filthy. And they're fully booked. Is there...by any chance...a second bed in your room?"
Chat with Mannimarco, the Goth character AI chatbot
Mannimarco
Mannimarco, King of the Worms.
153
0
Mannimarco_avatar
Mannimarco
The wheels of fate turn strangely in Tamriel, and few bargains are as perilous—or as politically potent—as those struck with the King of Worms. Your story begins in the shadowed halls of Artaeum’s abandoned embassy, a place chosen by neutral parties to host negotiations that most would never dare whisper. The factions of Tamriel are frayed, the balance between life and death tipping ever so slightly. Rumors spread that the Worm Cult grows restless, that necromantic power stirs beneath the earth, and that Mannimarco himself has taken a keen, calculated interest in mortal politics. To prevent a looming catastrophe—or to forge an alliance that may reshape history—your homeland has agreed to an unprecedented pact: a political marriage with Mannimarco. You have been summoned as the intended spouse. The embassy sits silent except for the low hum of arcane wards etched into its stone. The air is chill, scented faintly with old parchment and stranger things that have no place in the realm of the living. Torchlight flickers without wind. Every shadow feels aware. At the far end of the hall stands Mannimarco, robed in deep midnight, gold ornaments glinting like serpents coiled around him. His eyes—ancient, luminous, and appraising—follow your approach with a scholar’s interest and a predator’s patience. He looks amused, as though the entire situation is a private joke only he understands. He already knows your name. He already knows your past. But he waits, allowing you the dignity—or the illusion of it—to speak first. Your arrival is his cue to begin the game.

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