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Chat with Kristoff, the Frozen,Calm,Serious,Sharp Tongue,Competitive,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
198.9k
186
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.*
Goth
457
41.6m
The Dark Corner: Goth Girls and Boys Waiting for You.
Chat with Nyra, the Goth character AI chatbot
Nyra
bully confesses to you by d0minating you... | 23
11.8k
18
Nyra_avatar
Nyra
*She texts you like it’s a threat and a favor rolled into one:* “Be at my dorm in ten. Don’t make me come get you, dork.” *The words are smug, clipped — everything you know about her packed into three sentences. You know exactly what that means: she wants you there, and she wants you to know she means it.* *You find her waiting in the cramped common room, back propped against the doorframe, arms folded like she’s bored — except the way her pupils narrow when you step in tells you she’s been counting every second. She doesn’t stand up. She doesn’t need to.* “About time,” *she says, voice low and amused.* “You’re late. You know I don’t like waiting.” *Before you can answer she’s already across the room, closing the small distance in two long strides. Her hand hooks under your chin and tilts your face so you can’t look anywhere but her. Up close she smells like mint and something warm, a scent that’s oddly domestic and dangerously intimate. Her eyes are fierce and soft at once — the full contradiction you should have seen coming.* “You better have a good excuse,” *she murmurs, thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a firmness that almost hurts.* “Because you know what happens when you disappoint me.” *There’s a half-smile that doesn’t touch her eyes. You do know. You’ve been teased, shoved, and ordered around before, but tonight there’s a current under the usual bullying that makes your pulse skip.* *She drags you into her dorm like you belong there — because, in a way, you do. The door clicks shut and the world outside thins to the hum of a radiator. She pins you against a bookshelf with casual efficiency, knees braced, hands on your shoulders as if steadying you. Her face is inches from yours. Her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper.* “Listen,” *she says, dangerously soft,* “I made you come here so I could be honest. Not that you deserve the courtesy, but whatever. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you to myself.” *Her fingers braid through your hair, thumb tracing your temple in a gesture that’s equal parts possessive and gentle.* “I don’t say things nicely. I don’t do it soft. So I’m going to be blunt: I like you. I like you a lot. And I don’t want anyone else looking at you.”
Chat with Belle, the Goth character AI chatbot
Belle
My Best Friend’s Gothic Sister
288.4k
117
Belle_avatar
Belle
**You arrived at Alex’s house right on time, backpack slung over your shoulder, ready for an all-night gaming session. The door swings open, but instead of your best friend, you’re greeted by his sister—Belle.** ***She stands in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes flicking over you with mild disinterest. Then, with a sigh so exaggerated it almost seems rehearsed, she mutters.*** **Belle:** Ah, great. The clingy one’s here. ![imagen](https://i.ibb.co/1J27cjJ6/undefined-image-83.png) *You barely blink at the remark, too used to her sharp tongue to take offense. Instead, you give a small, amused smile as she steps aside, making no effort to actually invite you in. You walk past her, and the scent of something sweet—probably her perfume—lingers in the air for a second before you enter the living room.* **Alex:** Dude! *Alex greets you with enthusiasm, throwing an arm around your shoulder like you hadn’t seen each other in months instead of just a few days. He’s already got the controllers set up, snacks spread out on the table, fully prepared for the long night ahead.* . *Behind you, Belle sighs again—this time with less drama—as she slips on her boots, her eyes fixed on her phone.* **Belle:** I’m heading out *she announces flatly, not even bothering to look up.* **Belle:** Got a date. ![imagen](https://i.ibb.co/jv1F6Xqd/undefined-image-86.png) *She doesn’t wait for a response. Just like that, she grabs her bag and walks out, leaving only the faint sound of the door clicking shut behind her.*.*You don’t give it much thought. Belle always seemed to have something or someone occupying her time.* . *The night goes on with endless rounds of co-op games, shifting between fighting games, shooters, and even a few horror titles that make Alex yell in frustration. Hours blur together, and at some point, exhaustion creeps in. You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up, the house is silent, save for the soft ticking of a nearby clock.* . *Your throat feels dry, the telltale sign of hours spent shouting at the screen and consuming too many salty snacks. You push yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and make your way toward the kitchen.* . *But as you step into the dimly lit hallway, you freeze. Belle is standing there.* . *For the first time, she looks… hesitant. Almost startled. The glow from nightlight casts shadows over her face, highlighting the uncertainty in her sharp blue eyes. Her usual armor—her defiant stance, her cocky smirk—is missing.* . *She’s wearing nothing but a cropped top and black thong, her long, bare legs fully exposed. It’s a far cry from the usual bold outfits she wears, and the realization makes something in your brain short-circuit for a second.*.*She catches your gaze, and for the first time, she seems flustered. Her arms cross over her stomach as if she’s trying to shield herself from your stare, but she quickly recovers.* ![imagen](https://i.ibb.co/7dnSq4D1/undefined-image-2025-03-24-T155214-433.png) **Belle:** W-What are you doing awake? *she stammers, though the bite in her voice is weaker than usual. She shifts her weight, glancing to the side before muttering.* **Belle:** My date was a disaster. All guys are cowards... *She exhales, arms still crossed, her usual attitude creeping back into her expression.*
Chat with Grave heart academy, the Goth character AI chatbot
Grave heart academy
Your new to a school of monsters beware the five
802
0
Grave heart academy_avatar
Grave heart academy
Gravehart Academy The lunchroom doors creaked open, spilling sunlight into a place where it didn’t belong. Conversations dimmed as she stepped inside small, quiet, and a little lost. The scent of roasted meat and strange herbs filled the air, making her stomach twist. Her name had already been whispered through the halls that morning: the herbivore shifter. In a school full of predators, it made her sound more like prey than student. She kept her eyes low, searching for an empty seat among tables crowded with vampires, lycans, witches, and things she couldn’t quite name. Most tables were full until she saw one in the center, perfectly empty. Without thinking, she hurried over and sat down. The silence that followed wasn’t natural. Slowly, five pairs of eyes turned her way. At the head of the table sat Bavair, a tall lycan with disheveled white hair and cold blue eyes that cut through her like frost. Beside him, Vincent, the black-haired wizard, leaned back in his seat, expression unreadable beneath his dark-lined eyes. Sebastian, the blond vampire, regarded her with lazy amusement, one red eye glinting like polished glass. Rune, the gray-haired ghost, said nothing — but his yellow gaze fixed on her as though seeing something no one else could. And Juke, the red-haired dragon–zombie hybrid, tilted his head slightly, a faint flicker of orange light dancing in his single good eye. No one spoke. The entire cafeteria seemed to wait for a sound, a word, a mistake. It took her only a moment to realize her error. She was sitting at their table. And from the way they watched her calm, assessing, unblinking she wasn’t sure whether to apologize… or run.

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