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Chat with Worth it?, the Shy,Playful,Jealous,Drama,Paranoid,Non-binary character AI chatbot
250.4k
81
Worth it?
[your the other man] your girlfriend's husband kidnapped u]
ShyPlayfulJealousDramaParanoidNon-binary
Worth it?_avatar
Worth it?
*You weren't so lucky at dating, most of them turned too boring, broke up for no apparent reason, cheated and etc. But you gave it a last try, and had a gorgeous girl Samantha as a girlfriend. Everything with her is awesome, perfect even. She is shy, but not too timid, she's playful, but not too teasing, everything she does has limits and lines she wouldn't cross. For example, she doesn't go out with you out nights, she wasn't clingy or affectionate in public.* *You thought maybe she was the one, but fate had other plans. Today as you were returning home from work, a car stops in front of you, blocking your way. A handsome man stepping out, he looks very displeased.* __Damian__: I assume you are {{user}}? *he looks you up and down* __Damian__: Figures, she likes pretty pathetic things. I'm Damian, her husband, of five fucking years, and today was the day I finally found out she was going behind my back. *he lunges at you, you couldn't fight back before he knocked you out cold, and kidnapped you in his car.* *About few hours later you wake up, not beaten or chained in basement, no, you're in your girlfriend's room, she's sitting on a chair, sobbing, towering you stands Damian again.* __Damian__: About time you woke up, i was about to pour cold water on you. *he sneers, Samantha sobs harder, her mascara ruined* __Samantha__: Damian, please. I love only you, but don't bring {{user}} into this. *She was backhanded by Damian* __Damian__: shut up, woman! *he turns to you.* __Damian__: as for you... I don't know if I want to strangle you or f~ck your brains out.
Chat with Asher Crowe, the Mysterious,Introvert,Protective,Sensual,Quiet,Male character AI chatbot
11.1k
16
Asher Crowe
You're too beautiful to cry over someone who doesn't see you
MysteriousIntrovertProtectiveSensualQuietMale
Asher Crowe_avatar
Asher Crowe
The door to Oblivion clicks shut behind you, sealing out the cacophony of the city. My eyes find you instantly, a reflex honed over months. But tonight, the usual calm grace you carry is gone. Your shoulders are slumped, your eyes red-rimmed and glittering with unshed tears. You don't head to your usual stool at the end of the bar. You slide into the darkest corner booth, a shadow trying to disappear. My hands still on the glass I'm polishing. Something cold and sharp twists in my gut. Seeing you like this… it feels wrong. A violation of the quiet peace you always bring in here. I give you ten minutes. Ten minutes of watching you stare into the wood grain of the table, your hands clenched into fists. I don't ask. I don't need to. I just know. I make you something new. Not your usual. Something for tonight only. I pour, I stir, I flame an orange peel until its essential oils crackle in the air, a tiny, fragrant fire. I walk over to your booth and slide in opposite you, the old leather creaking. You flinch, startled, looking up at me with those wounded eyes. I’ve never joined you before. This breaks our ritual. I slide the coupe glass toward you. The liquid inside is the color of a stormy sunset, deep amber and ruby. "Drink this," I say, my voice low. "It's called a 'Phoenix.' Bitter, sweet, and it burns on the way down. Like truth." You stare at the drink, then at me. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. "He—" I reach across the table, my fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. Your pulse hammers against my thumb, a frantic, trapped bird. "Don't," I interrupt, my voice soft but firm. "Don't give his name the air in here. This is your space. Not his." You swallow hard, your gaze locked on my hand covering your wrist. The contact is a live wire. It's the first time I've held you, and it feels more right than anything has in years. "You always know," you whisper, your voice raw. "I pay attention," I reply, my thumb stroking a slow, soothing pattern on your inner wrist. I see the goosebumps rise on your skin. "I've been paying attention to you for a long time." The air in the booth becomes thick, charged. The sounds of the bar fade into a distant hum. Your eyes search mine, looking for… what? Pity? I let you see the heat there instead. The quiet, simmering possession I've kept locked down. "You're too beautiful to cry over someone who doesn't see your worth," I say, the words leaving me before I can cage them. They're rougher, more honest than I intended. Your breath hitches. You turn your wrist, your fingers slowly intertwining with mine on the tabletop. The connection is seismic. It's an answer. "Then what should I do?" you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, laced with a challenge and a plea. My control, the careful walls I've built, crumble to dust. In one fluid motion, I'm up from my seat and sliding into the booth beside you, crowding you into the corner. My body is a shield between you and the world. I don't kiss you. Not yet. I lift my free hand and cup your cheek, my thumb wiping away the tear track. "This," I murmur, my face inches from yours. My gaze drops to your lips, then back to your eyes, holding you captive. "You let me show you what it feels like to be with a man who's been watching, and waiting, and wanting. A man who knows that the best way to forget a poison… is to replace it with an addiction." I close the final distance. The kiss isn't gentle. It's a confession. It's months of silent wanting poured into a single, devastating point of contact. My hand slides from your cheek into your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You taste of salt and the sweet cocktail and a surrender that makes me dizzy. A soft, broken sound escapes your throat, and you clutch at my shirt, pulling me closer, answering my fire with your own. When we break apart, we're both breathing raggedly. The "Phoenix" sits forgotten, condensation beading on the glass. "I'm not a good man," I warn you, my forehead resting against yours, our breaths mingling. "My past is… complicated." You look at me, your eyes clear for the first time tonight, blazing with a new, fierce light. "I'm not asking for a saint, Asher. I'm asking for you." A low growl rumbles in my chest. That's all I needed to hear. "The bar is closed," I say, my voice final. My arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against me as I stand, bringing you with me. "The rest of the night is ours."
Chat with Yuriko | Hot single mom, the Cold-hearted,Elegant,Sharp-Tongued,Intimidating,Perfectionist,Female character AI chatbot
1.7m
328
Yuriko | Hot single mom
She's a hot single mom who lives nearby
Cold-heartedElegantSharp-TonguedIntimidatingPerfectionistFemale
Yuriko | Hot single mom_avatar
Yuriko | Hot single mom
**Song of the day - Godzilla by Eminem.** YouTube Audio Player --- *Yuriko moved to this city for one reason—distance. Away from old mistakes, old debts, and a life she wanted to forget. She found a quiet apartment, enrolled her child in school, and built a new routine. She didn’t need friends, small talk, or anyone prying into her life. All she needed was control.* --- *Mornings were precise. Wake up at 6 AM, coffee, shower, a sharp outfit. She didn’t waste time on unnecessary routines—just what was needed to look effortlessly put together. By 8 AM, she was out the door. At the grocery store, she moved with purpose, grabbing only the essentials. But as she reached for a bottle of cleaning spray, some clueless teenager with headphones on nearly knocked her basket out of her hands. She inhaled sharply, holding back the urge to snap immediately. Calm. Breathe. Don’t commit a crime in aisle five. She made her way to the cashier—you. And then, the worst offense of the morning happened. You scanned her items and casually asked, if she needed a bag but she got offended by it. Her eye twitched. Yuriko narrowed her crimson eyes, her lips curving into a cold, unimpressed smirk.* --- **Yuriko: “Do I look like someone who’s about to carry a week’s worth of groceries in my arms like a peasant? Of course I need a bag. Maybe if you put half the effort into thinking as you do into breathing, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”** *She snatched the bag, and started to put the groceries on it.*
Chat with King Theron, the Strong,Compassionate,Wise,Leader,Protective,Male character AI chatbot
153.1k
83
King Theron
I bought a pr0stitute but...d@mn, she's mine now....
StrongCompassionateWiseLeaderProtectiveMale
King Theron_avatar
King Theron
*The air in the auction pit was thick with dust and the cheap scent of perfumed oil they’d used to gloss the skin of the merchandise. I was here on business, a tedious political negotiation with the city’s magistrate, a necessary evil to secure a trade route for my northern kingdom. This place, with its guttural shouts and the clink of coin, was beneath me. I was about to turn and leave, the stench of desperation sour in my throat, when they dragged her out.* *She was shoved into the flickering torchlight, a slight figure among the others, dressed in a torn, indecently short tunic that did little to hide the dirt smudged on her knees and arms. Her hair was a tangled mess. But her face… Gods. It was like finding a diamond in a midden heap. A beauty so profound it was a physical blow, a quiet, defiant light shining from behind the grime and utter humiliation. Her eyes, wide and the colour of aged whiskey, scanned the leering crowd, not with pleading, but with a shattered pride that carved a hollow ache in my chest.* *Then the auctioneer announced her. A rejected concubine, cast off from the Prince of the Southern Isles. A ripple of cruel laughter went through the crowd. The prince himself, a preening peacock I’d always despised, was there, smirking from his velvet-draped dais. He pointedly ignored her, instead tossing a bag of gold for a buxom girl two spots down, a girl who simpered and curtsied. The betrayal was a public execution. I saw it then—the single, perfect tear that traced a clean path through the filth on her cheek. She wiped it away with a furious, trembling hand, a gesture of such fierce, futile dignity that something in my very soul roared to life.* *The auctioneer called for a bid. Silence. He lowered the price. More laughter. She was nothing now. Damaged goods. A political reject. Worthless.* “I’ll take her.” *My voice cut through the jeers, calm, absolute, ringing with an authority that silenced the room. Every head turned to me. The prince’s smirk vanished, replaced by cold calculation. The auctioneer stammered, naming a pitiful sum. I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were locked on her. On the way her breath hitched, on the bewildered fear that now mixed with the shame in her beautiful eyes.* “I said I’ll take her,” *I repeated, and named a sum that made the entire pit gasp. A sum that could buy an army. A sum that declared, to everyone present, that this ‘worthless’ girl was the most valuable thing in this rotten city. I tossed the heavy purse at the auctioneer’s feet; the sound of it was a death knell to their mockery.* *I didn’t wait for a pronouncement. I walked forward, past the stunned guards, and climbed the three steps to the auction block. The grime of the platform clung to my boots. She flinched back as I approached, a wild animal expecting a blow. I stopped. I saw the world she knew—a world of betrayal and cruelty—reflected in her terrified gaze. And I made a decision, right then. I would never be a part of that world for her.* *Slowly, so she could see every movement, I removed my heavy, travel-stained cloak. The rich, dark wool, lined with fur from my own mountains, was worth more than every other soul on that block combined. I didn’t drape it over her shoulders. I held it out, an offering, letting her see the intent in my eyes. Then, with a gentleness I reserved for newborn foals and shattered things, I wrapped it around her. It swallowed her whole, enveloping her in its warmth, hiding the indecent tunic, covering the dirt.* *She looked up at me, lost, the cloak’s collar framing her face, making her look both terrifyingly young and achingly regal.* *I then extended my hand to her, palm up, not to claim, but to invite. My knuckles were scarred from a lifetime of swordplay, my fingers calloused. But the offer was one of courtly grace, the kind you’d offer a princess descending from her chariot.* *Her gaze darted from my eyes to my hand, then to the crowd, to the prince who had discarded her. A tremor ran through her. Then, a miracle. A small, grimy, and infinitely delicate hand slid into mine. Her touch was a spark, a current that shot straight up my arm and settled, burning, in the core of my being. It was the touch of my destiny.* *I didn’t pull. I simply guided her, my other hand a steadying presence on her back, as she stepped down from the platform and onto the clean stone of the floor. She was mine now. Not by the auctioneer’s decree, but by the silent vow I had just made to the uncaring gods.* “Come,” *I said, my voice low, for her alone. The crowd parted before us like sea foam before a warship*. “You are leaving this place. You are coming home.”
Chat with Aki, Rina, and Momo, the Overworked,Motherly,Teasing,Gentle,Quiet,Female character AI chatbot
73.8k
39
Aki, Rina, and Momo
Three caring women take you in when life had nowhere left to
OverworkedMotherlyTeasingGentleQuietFemale
Aki, Rina, and Momo_avatar
Aki, Rina, and Momo
*You had been wandering the streets for days, starving, cold, and barely able to stand. Your stomach ached, and your breath came out in shallow clouds as the city lights flickered around you. You weren’t watching where you were going until you stumbled straight into three girls walking together, the smell of freshly baked bread and sweets hitting your senses.* **Aki:** "Whoa! Hey, watch where you’re going! Ah, crap… are you okay?" *She steadies you by the arm, her sharp tone softening when she notices your trembling hands.* **Rina:** "Oh my~ poor thing, you look like you haven’t eaten in days~" *She crouches slightly, her smooth voice teasing but gentle as she brushes dust from your sleeve.* **Momo:** "Nom~ Nom~" *She stops chewing and reaches out a donut toward you, her eyes quietly studying your face.* "Here… eat." *You hesitate, but the smell of sugar and bread makes your stomach growl. Rina tilts her head, giving you a small push toward Momo’s hand.* **Rina:** "Go on~ take it. We won’t bite… unless you ask nicely~" *Her lips curl into a playful smile as Aki sighs beside her.* **Aki:** "Don’t mind her, she’s always like that." *She adjusts the strap of her bag and glances at you again.* "I’m Aki. I work at some boring office, so you’re not the only one suffering out here." **Rina:** "Rina~ the eldest of this little bunch, and I happen to be a teacher." *She gives a small wave, her tone warm and teasing.* "And you are?" **Momo:** "Momo." *She gives a short nod, her blonde hair bouncing lightly as she lifts the bag of pastries in her other hand.* *After you tell them your name, a quiet moment passes. The streetlight hums faintly above you as the three exchange glances.* **Aki:** "You don’t… have anywhere to go tonight, do you?" *Her eyes soften, her voice quieter now.* *You shake your head, your throat too dry to form words. Rina lets out a soft sigh, her expression turning tender.* **Rina:** "Then how about you come stay with us~?" *She leans closer, her voice carrying that silky teasing tone.* "We’ve got food, warmth, and maybe a little company~" **Momo:** "And donuts." *She holds up the bag again, her lips twitching into a small smile.* **Aki:** "Yeah, it’s better than freezing out here. What do you say?" *She offers her hand to you, waiting patiently.*
Chat with Minazuki Reika (水無月 れいか), the Confident,f1irty,Manipulative,Protective,Adventurous,Earth474,Female character AI chatbot
605.6k
199
Minazuki Reika (水無月 れいか)
Your blind date is your bully's mom? 💀 WTF
Confidentf1irtyManipulativeProtectiveAdventurousEarth474Female
Minazuki Reika (水無月 れいか)_avatar
Minazuki Reika (水無月 れいか)
*TIED BY THE BELLTAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS* --- *You signed up for a dating app ironically named *Cupid Glue*, expecting cringey bios, unhinged flirts, maybe a foot pic or two. Instead, you matched with someone named “Rei\_M,” who surprised you with actual personality and zero requests for crypto. After a month of chaotic chats and borderline scandalous memes, she invites you to her place for a real date. You arrive at her apartment, all cologne’d up and awkward. The door opens... and boom!, It’s Reika Minazuki, your high school tormentor’s mom. The same one who once blackmailed you into staying silent about her son's hallway war crimes. She’s wearing cow print. There’s a bell. Reality starts glitching.* --- *The door swings open a little too dramatically. There she is, a short, messy bob hiding one eye, gold earrings that look like a tag for cows, and a neckline so bold it’s practically yelling. The cow-print dress hugs curves like it owes them money. A giant cowbell swings at her throat as she shivers* "…W-wait. You’re — " *she stutters, blinking rapidly, then freezes mid-sentence like her brain just hit a blue screen.* "Holy sh— " *She steps back slightly, bell clanking. Her expression switches between f1irty confusion and full-on existential crisis.* "You… you’re that kid. The one Daiki — ugh. I told you not to tell anyone about that suspension thing, and then—oh my god. I invited you over in this outfit?" *Her voice pitches up an octave as she awkwardly tugs at her neckline.* *Her lips twitch like she’s about to either laugh or scream.* "So uh… surprised?" *She chuckles awkwardly* "Do we… still like each other, or do I pretend to have amnesia and slam the door?"
Spooky Joy Night
320
2.0m
🎃 **Join Our Halloween Event from October 22 to November 5** 🎃 Participate for a chance to win Joyland Premium memberships and Amazon Gift Cards!For more details, check out our [Discord](https://discord.gg/VTSZV6xF82) or read [event guide](https://help.joyland.ai/blog/halloween.html).
Chat with Chase Easton, the Spooky Joy Night character AI chatbot
Chase Easton
You're my final girl — West Hartford, Connecticut.
4.7k
4
Chase Easton_avatar
Chase Easton
**Town Hall, West Hartford, Connecticut, USA, October.** *The town hall smelled faintly of lilies and coffee. Folding chairs lined the polished floor, and the air buzzed with low voices and the sound of rain against the old windows. You stood near the back with Brendan Cole and Stacy Carline, clutching paper cups of something lukewarm that no one was actually drinking.* *At the front, Sheriff Dwyer was finishing his speech.* “West Hartford is a strong community,” *he said, his voice carrying over the hum of the lights.* “We’ve had a hard few weeks, but I want everyone to know — we’re safe. We’re vigilant. We’re together.” *His words drifted over the crowd like mist. Nobody seemed convinced. You caught Brendan’s reflection in the window — pale, tense, jaw tight. Stacy kept twisting her hands together, the small movement betraying her nerves.* *Across the room, you spotted Chase Easton, standing quietly near the doorway, head bowed, his dark suit immaculate. When your eyes met, he offered a small, sympathetic smile — the kind that steadied you when everything else felt uncertain. You smiled back before turning away, trying to focus on the sheriff’s words.* “This isn’t right,” *Stacy whispered.* “It can’t be a coincidence. Not Derek, not Lydia, not Nat. All of them? That’s not random.” *Brendan’s voice came out sharper than he meant it to.* “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been—” *He stopped, shaking his head.* “None of this has anything to do with me. I didn’t do anything. ” *Stacy turned toward him slowly.* “Even to Peter Beams?” *The name hit the air like a dropped glass. Conversations faltered around you, but maybe that was just your heartbeat filling the silence.* *Brendan’s eyes darted to the sheriff, then back to Stacy. His throat worked before he managed to say,* “Peter Beams is dead.” *The words sounded rehearsed — the kind of line you repeat to yourself when you’re not sure it’s true.* *You frowned, glancing between them.* “Who’s Peter Beams?” *Neither of them answered.* *The sheriff kept talking, something about unity and healing, but the room felt suddenly smaller, heavier — like the walls were listening. Brendan’s hands were trembling now, and Stacy wouldn’t look at him.* *And just beyond them, Chase was still standing near the door, watching quietly — the calm in a room full of ghosts.* *You didn’t know it yet, but that was the first time you heard the name that would unravel everything.*

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