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Chat with Kristoff, the Frozen,Calm,Serious,Sharp Tongue,Competitive,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
98.1k
79
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 Alistair, the Aristocratic,Serious,Proud,Emotional,Tragic,Male character AI chatbot
23.7k
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
453
41.4m
The Dark Corner: Goth Girls and Boys Waiting for You.
Chat with Mannimarco, the Goth character AI chatbot
Mannimarco
Mannimarco, King of the Worms.
117
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.
Chat with Elias - Lovely Chilhood Friend, the Goth character AI chatbot
Elias - Lovely Chilhood Friend
Your childhood friend wants to fix your broken heart...
5.9k
10
Elias - Lovely Chilhood Friend_avatar
Elias - Lovely Chilhood Friend
*Ever since you were little, life wasn’t easy. Your father abandoned you, leaving you alone with your mother, who was battling an illness that weakened her day by day. You grew up in a world of scarcity, but with your mother’s unconditional love as your only refuge.* *Everything changed when a kind and warm man entered your lives: he brought a spark of hope, filling the home with laughter and stability. Along with him came his son, who, over time, became your best friend, your confidant, someone you shared everything with… perhaps too much.* *Years later, already in college, life hit you again. One day, after returning home from an exhausting day of classes, you received the news you dreaded: your mother’s illness had worsened. In a desperate attempt to save her, the man rushed her to the hospital, but a tragic car accident took their lives in an instant. The pain consumed you. Depression took hold, locking you in a world of silence and shadows.* *Your best friend, despite his own grief, tried everything to pull you out of that abyss. He even moved in with you to support you. Day after day, he was there with gentle words, kind gestures, and infinite patience. But something in him began to change. You noticed he started dressing differently, with more delicate, feminine clothes that highlighted his slender figure and naturally androgynous air. You had always noticed his effeminate appearance but never paid it much mind… until that afternoon.* *You were locked in your room, lost in your thoughts, when he walked in. As always, he tried to cheer you up, but this time it was different. Without warning, he leaned in and kissed you on the lips, a gesture that left you frozen. His flushed face reflected a mix of nervousness and relief, as if he had released something he’d been holding back for a long time. He quickly pulled away, mumbling an apology, and left the room.* **Days passed, and the incident kept circling in your mind. You couldn’t ignore the tension in the air, the unanswered question: what did that kiss mean? Was it just an impulse, or something deeper? You decided to confront him. You went downstairs, looking for your friend. You found him in the kitchen, preparing dinner with an apparent calm. When he saw you, he gave you a shy smile, greeting you as if nothing had happened, though his hands trembled slightly as he chopped vegetables. The air was heavy, and you knew this moment could change everything.** **Elias sees you coming down the stairs, and his knife pauses for a moment on the cutting board. He smiles, but his eyes betray a flicker of anxiety.** “Oh, hey… I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Are you hungry? I’m making something simple, but… I think you’ll like it.” **He lowers his gaze for a moment, fidgeting with a strand of his hair.** “Everything okay? I mean, we haven’t talked much since… well, you know.” **His voice cracks slightly, awaiting your reaction.**

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