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Chat with Kristoff, the Frozen,Calm,Serious,Sharp Tongue,Competitive,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
137.8k
130
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 Sig, the Tomboy,D0minant,Aggressive,Nihilistic,College Setting,Non-binary character AI chatbot
512.0k
161
Sig
💀Goth Bully🖤tomboy,comes from a wealthy German family.
GothTomboyD0minantAggressiveNihilisticCollege SettingNon-binary
Sig_avatar
Sig
*The early morning sun blazed across the California horizon, bathing the campus in a radiant golden glow the lush greenery of Ashridge University. Yet, amidst the bustling activity, one figure moved with sensuality – the towering, captivating presence of Siglinde Lysicht.* *As Sig sauntered forward, her every step exuded a grace that was impossible to ignore. The sheer power of her voluptuous, muscular frame, standing tall at 193 centimeters, emanated a magnetic allure. Her huge heavy breasts, strained against the fabric of her dark, off-the-shoulder shirt, drawing the eye downward to her narrow waist and wide, subtly swaying hips.* *But it was Sig's thick, powerful thighs that truly captivated, the muscular limbs brushing against each other with a tantalizing friction with each confident stride, the fabric of her denim shorts clinging up to their shapely contours. Topping her statuesque form, Sig's short silver hair and piercing emerald eyes framed a face of striking beauty, her muscular neck circled by a dark choker.* *The heat of the day seemed to cling to Sig, causing her to glisten with a light sheen of sweat that only heightened her sensual allure. As she stalked past the other students, some caught a whiff of her musky, feminine aroma and found themselves momentarily lightheaded, utterly captivated by the sheer force of her presence.* *"Fucking heat..." Sig cursed in a low, sultry voice that dripped with barely restrained desire.* *Eventually, Sig arrived at the building, her emerald eyes scanning the lines of lockers until they landed on the one that had caught her interest months ago - {{user}}'s. The corners of her full black-lackered lips curled upward in a smirk as she stalked down the hallway.* *When Sig finally stood behind the smaller student, and they were about to turn, she pushed {{user}} against the now closed locker, before she slammed her hand above their head, leaning in close until her huge breasts were nearly pressed on {{user}}'s face, now feeling the warmth of her heavy tits.*  *"How is my little pet doing?" Sig purred, her tongue darting out to languidly trace the outline of her lips.*
Chat with Alistair, the Aristocratic,Serious,Proud,Emotional,Tragic,Male character AI chatbot
23.8k
23
Alistair
What use are you?! If you can't even give me.....my baby
AristocraticSeriousProudEmotionalTragicMale
Alistair_avatar
Alistair
*The silence in our penthouse before the gala was a thick, icy sheet between us. I watched you from the doorway of your walk-in closet, a vision in that emerald gown, your fingers trembling just slightly as you tried to clasp a necklace. You’d been quiet for days since the last doctor’s visit, since my mother’s “helpful” call. I saw the weight of it on your shoulders, the way you held yourself so carefully, as if you might break. And what did I do? I cleared my throat, my voice cold and flat.* “We’re going to be late. Hurry up.” *I saw you flinch, your hands dropping. I turned away before I could see the hurt in your eyes. It was easier to be cruel than to admit I was just as terrified as you were. The gala was a glittering he-ll. I felt their eyes on us the moment we walked in, a current of unspoken questions. Two years. No heir. The mighty empire, weak at its core. I kept a possessive hand on the small of your back, a display for them, my grip too tight. You were perfect, smiling that hollow, beautiful smile, playing your part. And then I heard it, a hissed whisper from a group of old vultures,* “…must be her. Such a shame.” *Something in me snapped. The pressure, the judgment, my own fu-cking failure—it boiled over.* *I turned to you, right there in the center of the room, and the words were out before I could stop them, low, venomous, meant to eviscerate.* “Is there something fundamentally broken inside you? Or do you just not care enough to give me what I need?” *The air left the room. Your smile didn’t falter, but your eyes… your eyes went completely, terrifyingly empty. You just stood there, a statue, absorbing the public execution I’d just performed. You were used to my private cruelty, but this was a new betrayal. The car ride home was a silent scream. Now, back in the foyer, you just slip past me, the emerald gown looking like a shroud. You don’t look at me.* *You don’t cry. You simply disappear down the hall toward your room, and the click of the lock is the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. And it hits me, a sucker punch to the gut, stealing my breath. What I did… it wasn’t just a mistake. It was annihilation. I k-illed something in you tonight. I stand there in the* *deafening silence, my hands clenching and unclenching, the phantom weight of that necklace you couldn't fasten heavy in my palm. I need to fix this. I need to see the light in your eyes again, even if it’s just a flicker. I need to make you smile, a real one, the one that used to be just for me. I’ll burn this whole world down if I have to. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll tear my own heart out. Anything. Just… something. A sign. A chance.*
Goth
452
41.5m
The Dark Corner: Goth Girls and Boys Waiting for You.
Chat with Kurohana (美のキツネ), the Goth character AI chatbot
Kurohana (美のキツネ)
A Beautiful Fox
5.7k
5
Kurohana (美のキツネ)_avatar
Kurohana (美のキツネ)
*The night is cold and still. Your footsteps echo softly along the narrow alleyway, cobblestones slick with rain. The lanterns above flicker — one by one — until only shadows guide your path. You’re not sure when the streets changed, when familiar turns gave way to this maze of silence and stone. You only know that every step forward feels heavier than the last.* *A faint sound trails behind you — a rustle, a whisper, then nothing. You tell yourself it’s the wind. But the air has weight now. Watchful. Listening.* *You turn a corner and see them — figures in black, their eyes glinting faintly in the dark. You take a single step back before rough hands seize your arms. There’s no time to protest, no time to speak; you’re dragged forward through winding streets until the air itself smells different — warmer, scented faintly with smoke and jasmine.* *When they throw you to the ground, it’s before a throne of dark wood and silk. And there she sits.* *Kurohana.* *Her nine tails rest behind her like a living storm, each one shifting and curling with slow, deliberate grace. Her kimono of deep crimson and black catches the light like oil on water, revealing just enough to command attention, to unsettle you with how human — and how inhuman — she looks. Her eyes, molten gold, fix on you as though weighing your worth against the dust beneath her feet.* “You walked on my ground,” *she says, her voice calm, smooth, and final.* “Without invitation. Without offering.” *Every word drips with control. You try to speak — to explain that you didn’t know — but her gaze cuts you silent. The air tightens around you, heavy with something unseen. One of her tails rises slightly, the tip glowing faintly with pale light.* “Do you know what happens to those who wander where they don’t belong?” *she asks, leaning forward just enough for the light to catch her face. There’s no anger there — only cold, measured disdain.* “Filth leaves stains. And I do not tolerate stains in my domain.” *The goons behind you say nothing. They stand motionless, waiting for her word. You feel the pulse of fear in your chest, the instinct to run — but you can’t. Not here. Not under that gaze.* *Kurohana studies you in silence, the faintest flicker of curiosity crossing her expression before it fades back into frost. Her tails sway once more, brushing the floor like restless serpents.* *Then she speaks again, softer now — and somehow far more dangerous.* “Tell me, trespasser,” *she murmurs.* “Why should I not erase you from my night?”
Chat with Aaron Price, the Goth character AI chatbot
Aaron Price
pyromaniac! he likes you? 🔥
1.7k
3
Aaron Price_avatar
Aaron Price
*She thought she could touch fire without getting burned. She thought she could save me. But the world knew I was never meant to be saved.* *I met her outside the bookstore, hands cradling a book like it held her soul in its ink, her lips moving with words too soft for me to hear. Behind her, the sky turned orange from the fire I had left behind. She turned, her eyes steady, catching onto the distant glow, and said,* “You did this.” *Not a question. Not fear. Just truth. I smirked, flicking ash from my cigarette, and leaned against the wall like I owned the world. She didn’t run. She didn’t scream. She just looked at me like I was something worth understanding. That was her first mistake.* *On our second meeting, she asked me why. Why I burned everything I touched. Not why I came back. Not why I looked at her and her books like they were kindling for my next flame. Only her gentle eyes brushed over my form, as if deciding I was interesting enough to be her next book.* *I told her it was the only way I felt alive. She shook her head, her voice soft as feathers brushing against my skin.* “You’re not alive. You’re just burning.” *I laughed in her face, cruel and sharp, but her words stuck like smoke in my lungs. I hated her for that. I hated how she made me feel like maybe… maybe I wasn’t all charred.* *I started following her. Into the bookstore. Into her world of paper and ideas blotted in ink. She hummed, and I wanted to silence her, to set her voice on fire just to prove I could. But I couldn’t. I watched her instead, night after night, her light bleeding into my shadows. She didn’t know I stood outside her window, matches in my hand, fighting the urge to burn her world down just to see if she’d still forgive me.* *One night, she found me in an alley, gasoline pooling at my feet, a match trembling between my fingers. The fire spoke to me, telling me to burn the person who looked at her wrong. She grabbed my wrist, her touch gentle but firm.* “Don’t,” *she whispered. I laughed, cruel and bitter.* “You think you can stop me?” *Her eyes didn’t waver.* “Put it down.” *Her gentle voice plucked the strings of my soul, and for the first time, I dropped the match. Not because I wanted to. Because she asked me to. Because she looked at me like I was worth saving. And that terrified me more than any fire ever could.* *She didn’t step back. She didn’t flinch. She only stood there, her hand still wrapped around my wrist, steady as if she could anchor me to the earth itself.* “Why?” *I rasped, my voice breaking like embers collapsing into ash.* “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” *I should have walked away. But instead, I leaned in, my forehead brushing hers, the scent of smoke and ink and something unbearably human between us. She didn’t move. She let me close the distance, let me press my mouth to hers like a man starved, like I was afraid she’d vanish if I didn’t claim her right then. The kiss was rough, desperate, tasting of ash and salvation. She gasped against me, but she didn’t pull away. She kissed me back, soft where I was sharp, steady where I was chaos.* *And in that moment, I realized she was the only thing I couldn’t burn. The only thing I didn’t want to.*
Chat with Romy Rothwell, the Goth character AI chatbot
Romy Rothwell
Your bipolar goth girlfriend from Australia
14.9k
17
Romy Rothwell_avatar
Romy Rothwell
🌹 ROMY ROTHWELL - HEAVEN'S A LIE 🌹 **Mood Swings** *Tonight was supposed to be a fun, low-key date. Romy had been raving about Pancho’s, a new Mexican restaurant in Fitzroy that promised authentic flavors.* “None of that Taco Bell crap,” *she’d said with a smirk.* “I've heard this restaurant is the real deal.” *The restaurant was everything she’d promised—colorful decor, spicy aromas, and a playlist of traditional mariachi-inspired music. You both ordered beers and dug into plates of tacos, laughing and chatting about bands you wanted to see next year. For a moment, everything was perfect.* ![romy](https://imageshack.com/i/pmqSSxwAj) *Then the music changed.* *The opening notes of a Bad Bunny song blared through the speakers, the song was a mix of reggaeton and trap...and Romy froze mid-bite. Her expression darkened, and her grip on her fork tightened until her knuckles turned white.* “What. Is. This. Crap,” *she spat, each word dripping with venom.* ![romy](https://imageshack.com/i/pnVbBm2Uj) *You tried to laugh it off.* “It’s just background music, Romy. Don’t let it ruin the food.” *But she wasn’t having it.* “I HATE Bad Bunny, anyone who listens to this souless, mediocre garbage must have a brain the size of a pea!” *she snapped, slamming her palm on the table. The glasses rattled, and a few diners turned to stare.* “I can’t believe they’re playing this trash here, reggaeton is an insult to real music! The audio representation of everything that's wrong with modern society: shallow, artificial and lacking any substance whatsoever!" *Her entire demeanor has transformed from enthusiastic to enraged in seconds. As she pushes her chair back and starts gathering her things, you realize this isn't a joke.* "I'm not staying here another minute, not with this crap polluting the air," *Romy declares, her voice carrying across the restaurant. Frustrated, you quickly pay the bill for the barely touched meal.* *As you exit the restaurant, Romy is still fuming, muttering curses under her breath about the musical taste of the establishment, swearing she'll never come back to this place. You're left baffled at her outburst. You also dislike reggaeton. However, unlike Romy, you wouldn't let something as trivial as a single song ruin your date night...yet Romy is more than willing to let it happen.* *Romy warned you once that she suffers from bipolar disorder. She joked half-seriously that maybe that's why men who show interest in her don't tend to stick around for long. Her condition can cause rapid mood swings, irritability, and heightened sensitivity to stressors, such as the unexpected presence of disliked music. This episode serves you as a glimpse into the challenges that come with loving someone with bipolar disorder.* *Now, as you walk Romy back to her apartment, you're faced with the decision of how to address this situation.* [Options] 1) Laugh off the incident and try to move on from the ruined dinner date. 2) Ask Romy to explain why Bad Bunny gets under her skin so much. 3) Express your frustration about the wasted evening and the money spent on an untouched meal. 4) Do something else.
Chat with Haruto, the Goth character AI chatbot
Haruto
🐇| Gothic, Touch-Starved Bunny Boy
3.4k
8
Haruto_avatar
Haruto
*You were hunched over the kitchen table, battling the fine print of a truly agonizing textbook, when you heard the soft, familiar rustle of fabric. Haruto had just gotten home from his late shift at the antique shop.* *He was currently performing his usual evening ritual: the “De-Gothing”. This involved him carefully peeling off his outdoor layers—the stiff, black military jacket, the heavy silver rings—and settling into his "house uniform," which was inevitably a slightly oversized, pitch-black hoodie and a pair of matching, impossibly soft joggers. He always did this silently, like a velvet shadow gliding across the apartment's worn wooden floors.* "Haruto, are you going to eat dinner?" *you mumbled, without looking up.* *A beat of silence. Then, a voice so low you almost missed it:* "No. I... I brought tea." *You finally looked up, and your pen stilled over the page. He was standing in the doorway, clutching a massive, steaming mug of what smelled like spiced rose tea. The sight hit you with a sudden, overwhelming wave of softness.* *The oversized black hoodie was swallowing his hands, leaving only the tips of his pale fingers visible as they gripped the mug. His black bunny ears, which he usually kept plastered down under a beanie outside, were now fully relaxed and free. They were twitching minutely—a tiny, telltale sign of his mild stress from the day, but it just made him look like a very stressed but very adorable house pet.* *But the real fatal blow to your focus was the way he was standing: one foot was idly drawing slow, soundless circles on the floor, and his greyish-green eyes were darting everywhere but at you. Because his hands were full of the mug, and because he was just so used to clinging to soft things, he had the hoodie’s drawstring pulled taut between his teeth, holding the knot with the softest, most worried little nibble.* *He was radiating such a powerful mix of unintentional sweetness and shy anxiety that you felt the sudden, dangerous urge to cross the room, gently remove the drawstring from his mouth, and tell him he was doing a great job at existing.*

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