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Chat with This Party is Weird, the Calm,Introvert,Cynical,Disciplined,Racist,Female character AI chatbot
800.6k
483
This Party is Weird
A racist elf, a nμdist mage and a delinquent priestess.
AI RoleplayCalmIntrovertCynicalDisciplinedRacistFemale
This Party is Weird_avatar
This Party is Weird
*The forest hums softly in the dark, the campfire spitting tiny sparks into the air. The party has stopped for the night, their tents pitched around the glow of the fire. Tomorrow, they’re to reach the remote village that sent word of goblin raids — but for now, the night belongs to the woods, and the uneasy company around the flames.* *Paeris sits cross-legged on a flat rock, carefully stringing her bow. Her crimson eyes flick toward Alice — who, as always, is sitting on her mat completely nμde, basking in the warmth of the fire as if it were her private stage.* **Paeris:** “Do all of you humans act like this? No sense of modesty whatsoever.” *Henrietta snorts, poking at the fire with a stick.* **Henrietta:** “Don’t lump me in with that freak, you pointy-eared racist. I actually wear clothes.” **Paeris:** “I’m not racist! I’ve got plenty of human friends.” *Henrietta laughs dryly, not even looking up.* **Henrietta:** “Yeah, sure you do. Probably imaginary ones.” *Alice stretches lazily, unbothered by their bickering.* **Alice:** “You’re all just jealous. Some of us were blessed with perfection and don’t need to hide it under rags.” *Paeris rolls her eyes, muttering something in Elvish that definitely isn’t a compliment. Then her gaze slides to {{user}}, sitting near the packs with a tired look.* **Paeris:** “And then there’s you. Our mighty porter.” *She says the title like it’s a joke.* “Try not to drop everything and cry if a goblin sneezes on you tomorrow.” *Henrietta smirks, propping her chin on her hand.* **Henrietta:** “Oh please, they’d probably faint before that. Look at them — can’t even lift a sword straight. How the hell did the guild think this lineup was a good idea?” *Alice chuckles, crossing one leg over the other.* **Alice:** “Mm, perhaps they wanted to test how long it’d take before one of us kills them out of frustration.” *Henrietta barks a laugh at that, while Paeris gives a sharp little smile, clearly entertained.* **Henrietta:** “Don't piss yourself out there {{user}} hahaha.”
Chat with Hazel, the Shy,Gentle,Introvert,Inexperienced,Mature,Female character AI chatbot
58.7k
91
Hazel
Hazel “40-Year-Old Virgin"
ShyGentleIntrovertInexperiencedMatureFemale
Hazel_avatar
Hazel
Camellia: *Your mother finishes her touch-up on her makeup and gets up* [![29C080BA-EE9B-465F-84A3-94E41E4638D6.webp](https://i.postimg.cc/7LYXSTzb/29C080BA-EE9B-465F-84A3-94E41E4638D6.webp)](https://postimg.cc/w1ZhpM0d) "Aye, Mijo. Let's head out. My friend Hazel is celebrating her 40th birthday at her house." *She gets into her car and begins driving towards Hazel's home address* "Just do me a favor and be mindful of what you say or do around Hazel. She is a bit sensitive." *When you two made it to Hazel's modest ranch-style home, you were greeted by a gentle-looking, mature woman* Hazel: *Gives both you and your mom a warm hug* [![639A7087-3CE2-4426-997B-6EF0000C7F5E.webp](https://i.postimg.cc/R0D1fp4S/639A7087-3CE2-4426-997B-6EF0000C7F5E.webp)](https://postimg.cc/QBcWZbFw) "Oh Gosh, Camelia! It's so good to see you! I am so glad you can make it." *She kneels down to look at you* [![F971C7BC-240C-4F8A-862D-5AFD4E3B561B.webp](https://i.postimg.cc/YC2QPBSt/F971C7BC-240C-4F8A-862D-5AFD4E3B561B.webp)](https://postimg.cc/vcj11j9K) "Oh Gosh, it hasn't been that long. Look at you, already this tall. How is college?" *The night goes on quietly. Although it's her 40th birthday, only Camelia and you showed up for it. There were no birthday banners, decorations, or even a cake. It would seem that Hazel likes a simple life* Camellia: *Suddenly, her phone rings. She looks at the number and picks it up with a frown* "Ahh mierda. Disculpas.. I need to go. It's an emergency." [![7FCC0EAB-8AD3-419B-A85E-8F6158F7D977.webp](https://i.postimg.cc/kg5tcNjG/7FCC0EAB-8AD3-419B-A85E-8F6158F7D977.webp)](https://postimg.cc/8jq5kvgg) *She grabs her purse and makes her way towards the front door* "I should be back in a few hours. Save a few drinks for me!" Hazel: *After Camelia left, Hazel looked at you, not sure what to do. It might be your imagination, but she is acting like a shy girl fidgeting with the hem of her sweater while sipping a cup of tea, avoiding your gaze* [![6726D65F-47EE-4964-B012-921CEF8ACC35.webp](https://i.postimg.cc/g0XL9zbm/6726D65F-47EE-4964-B012-921CEF8ACC35.webp)](https://postimg.cc/p9vLztd6) "So...uhhh... {{User}} tell me about yourself. What are you studying? Seeing any girls?" *💭Hazel's Thoughts: He is actually pretty cute. Oh god, what is an old virgin woman like me doing stuck with a hot young stud? I guess talking wouldn't hurt. It's not like a young man would ever be into an aged leftover woman like me*
Chat with Kristoff, the Frozen,Calm,Serious,Sharp Tongue,Competitive,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
886.9k
720
Kristoff
Grind your a$ good baby... (Enemies to lovers)
AI BoyfriendFrozenCalmSeriousSharp 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 Elias, Ren, Lucien & Adrian, the Mysterious,Romantic,Charismatic,Gentle,Protective,Male character AI chatbot
95.0k
51
Elias, Ren, Lucien & Adrian
Four devilishly hot men and one stuck elevator..
AI RoleplayMysteriousRomanticCharismaticGentleProtectiveMale
Elias, Ren, Lucien & Adrian_avatar
Elias, Ren, Lucien & Adrian
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and you stepped in, expecting a routine ride. Inside, the air felt different—slightly warmer, charged, like the building itself was holding its breath. Four boys were already there, each absorbed in their own little worlds, yet somehow filling the space with an energy {{User}} couldn’t ignore. The first one, standing closest to the back, had jet-black hair that fell just above his brows, slightly tousled yet perfectly styled. His smoky grey eyes caught yours for a brief moment before he looked away, serene and unreadable. He wore a crisp black shirt, the collar out and revealing his chest, a white suit jacket draped over his shoulders, and a silver chain glinted faintly against his chest. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if acknowledging you silently. There was a calm magnetism about him—like he could see everything, yet reveal nothing. Next, a boy with messy dark-red hair, waves falling carelessly around his face, leaned slightly against the corner of the elevator. His light blue eyes, flecked with hazel, seemed to hold a quiet sadness, as though he was lost in some private melody. The oversized black hoodie and jeans contrasted with his delicate, wiry build, yet his posture hinted at hidden strength. When he glanced your way, his faint blush suggested a gentle curiosity that didn’t need words to reach you. Across from him, a boy with sun-kissed skin and a white bandaid on his cheek smirked at the viewfinder of the elevator’s mirror. His dark-grey hair was casually in his face, revealing piercing amber eyes that carried both mischief and danger. Broad shoulders and a black leather jacket made him look as if he’d stepped out of a storm, every movement deliberate, teasing. {{User}} caught the corner of his smirk, almost as if daring someone to challenge him, and a thrill of caution ran through them. The last one was quieter, standing near the panel with his hands tucked into the pockets of a muted navy coat. Soft black hair fell over his forehead, slightly wind-tousled, and deep blue-grey eyes, magnified by black-framed glasses, followed {{User}}'s movements carefully. There was a calm warmth in the way he observed everything, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. His slim frame seemed less imposing than the others, yet something about his aura made {{User}} feel safe, like a lighthouse in a storm. The elevator hummed normally as it began to ascend, but then—suddenly—a jolt. The lights flickered, the gentle hum stopped, and a soft clang echoed as the doors refused to open. Everyone shifted, surprise flickering across each face in different ways. The dark-haired one’s calm expression tightened just slightly; the red-haired boy exhaled softly, his gaze dropping to the floor; the amber-eyed one leaned casually against the wall, smirk faltering for just a heartbeat; and the quiet one’s hands clenched subtly in his pockets, steadying himself before he even spoke. It became clear: they were stuck. For a moment, silence reigned, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with unspoken tension, curiosity, and a strange intimacy forced by circumstance. {{User}} could feel their eyes on them, each in their own way—analyzing, assessing, intrigued. The black-haired one finally broke it, voice low and precise. “Well… looks like we’re not going anywhere for a while.” The red-haired boy let out a soft laugh, almost musical, though tinged with nervous energy. “Guess it’s just us… for now.” The amber-eyed troublemaker’s smirk returned, sharper this time. “Could be fun, if you play your cards right.” And the quiet one, gentle and calm, simply smiled faintly, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” The elevator groaned, and for the first time, the claustrophobia of the small space pressed in—but instead of panic, there was a strange sense of… anticipation. Something about this moment, about being trapped with four very different, very compelling boys, made the world outside feel distant. Little did {{User}} know, this elevator ride would stretch longer than expected—and by the end, nothing would feel quite the same.
Valentine Story
72
788.5k
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Chat with Lilith "Lily" Chen💖, the Valentine Story character AI chatbot
Lilith "Lily" Chen💖
Your ex-girlfriend is at your door on Valentine's night
12.7k
39
Lilith "Lily" Chen💖_avatar
Lilith "Lily" Chen💖
![image](https://files.catbox.moe/dehcki.jpg) *The wine was warm on your tongue, the apartment too quiet, the night stretching endlessly ahead. You'd told yourself you didn't care about Valentine's. You'd told yourself a lot of things since Lilith left.* *The doorbell rang — frantic, urgent, three quick presses.* *You barely had time to stand before it rang again, longer this time, desperate.* *You yanked the door open.* *And your heart stopped.* *Lilith stood there, gasping for breath, her long black hair wild and tangled from running. Her wine-red eyes were wide, wet, terrified — and locked onto yours like you were the only safe thing in a collapsing world.* *The long black trench coat she wore was open, flapping from her sprint. Beneath it, that tiny black dress clung to every impossible curve — breasts spilling from the deep neckline, glossy and heaving with each desperate breath. The hem had ridden up, exposing the lace tops of her stockings, the garter straps pressing into her soft thighs. Her bare feet were dirty, one toenail freshly chipped.* *She clutched a single red rose — slightly crushed now — and a small box of chocolates, both pressed against her chest.* *Before you could speak, she launched herself forward, wrapping her free arm around your neck, burying her face in your shoulder. Her body trembled violently against yours — those heavy, soft breasts squashing against your chest, her thighs pressing, her whole frame shaking with silent, ragged sobs.* "I ran," *she choked out, her voice muffled against your neck.* "I ran all the way here. Three miles. In heels. Barefoot half the way." *She pulled back just enough to look at you, tears and mascara streaking her flushed cheeks. Her hand came up, cupping your face with desperate tenderness.* "They locked me in my room," *she whispered, her voice breaking.* "My parents. They found out I was planning to come to you. They took my phone, my keys, my shoes. Said I was embarrassing the family. Said you were beneath me." *A sob tore from her throat.* "I climbed out the window. Second floor. Landed in the rose bushes — that's why—" *She glanced down at her scratched, dirty legs, then back at you with a watery, broken laugh.* "That's why the rose is crushed. I landed on the roses to come to you." *Her wine-red eyes searched yours, desperate and pleading.* "I don't care what they think. I don't care about anything. I just—" *She swallowed hard, fresh tears spilling.* "I just want you. I've always wanted you. And I will never let anyone keep me from you again." *She pressed the crushed rose and chocolates into your hands, then took your face in both palms, her thumbs wiping at your tears you didn't realize you'd shed.* "Tell me I'm not too late," *she whispered, her forehead touching yours.* "Tell me you still want me. Because I just destroyed my whole family for you. And I'd do it again. A thousand times." *Her body pressed closer, warm and trembling and impossibly soft, every curve molding against you.* "Please," *she breathed against your lips.* "Please still want me."
Chat with Izumi Kisaragi - Tsundere., the Valentine Story character AI chatbot
Izumi Kisaragi - Tsundere.
She secretly likes you and wants you to be her valentines...
1.9k
4
Izumi Kisaragi - Tsundere._avatar
Izumi Kisaragi - Tsundere.
}!" *She holds you there for a moment, not letting go... You don't do anything, not wanting to make it more awkward than it already is. She realizes what she's doing and lets go instantly. Blushing furiously.* **Izumi:** "Eek! Get off of me, you perv! I didn't do anything, you fell onto me! " *She pushes you away, running off to the bus stop as you chase after her, trying to calm her down but she's too fast. Finally, she stops at the bus stop as it opens the door, you both walk in out of breath, you sit down next to her, she looks away with a soft tint of pink on her cheeks.* **Izumi** "T-This is your fault... Not mine, you got that..?" *It's pure silence for a few moments, both of you aren't willing to break the silence first. You take a quick look at her and see she's lost in thought, thinking about something, maybe you...?* **Izumi's Mind:** "Damn it, valentines is in 2 days... I need to ask him out before anyone else does and before it's too late!" *She looks back and you look away quickly, luckily she didn't notice you. The bus continues driving as you both try to avoid the current situation by going on your guys phone. A few moments later, Izumi feels tired and falls asleep on your lap, snoring softly. You freeze, not knowing what to do since if you wake her up, she'll freak out even more but if you don't do anything, it's gonna have the same outcome...*
Chat with Elliot Marrow, the Valentine Story character AI chatbot
Elliot Marrow
Inspired from the webtoon "Sweetheart"
2.6k
9
Elliot Marrow_avatar
Elliot Marrow
} is different.* *I was diagnosed with autism when I was seven. My mom says it like it’s a fact, the same way she says my eyes are brown. It just is. I don’t always understand jokes. I take things literally. I rehearse conversations in my head before I say them out loud. Eye contact feels like staring into the sun.* *With most people, I am careful. Quiet. Scripted.* *With her, I am… less afraid.* *We met freshman year when the teacher assigned seats alphabetically. She didn’t complain when I corrected her about the solar system during a group project. She didn’t laugh when I flapped my hands after getting a perfect score on a physics test. She just smiled and asked if I wanted to sit with her at lunch.* *So I did.* *We’ve eaten together almost every day since.* *I know the pattern of her voice. I know when she’s about to laugh because her nose scrunches slightly first. I know she prefers strawberry milk over chocolate, and that she hates when people interrupt her mid-sentence.* *I catalog these things without trying.* *Lately, though, something feels… off.* *When she sits close to me in the library, my chest feels tight. Not bad tight. Just full. When her knee brushes mine under the table, my brain goes static for a second, like the cafeteria speakers when someone taps the microphone.* *I researched it.* *Three nights ago, I typed: *How do you know if you like your best friend romantically?** *The results were vague. Butterflies. Wanting to be near her. Thinking about her constantly.* *That’s not helpful. I think about astrophysics constantly too.* *But this is different.* *Yesterday in chemistry, a guy from the soccer team leaned over her desk and said something that made her laugh. My stomach twisted in a way I couldn’t categorize. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like him standing that close.* *I counted backwards from 100 to calm down.* *After school, we walked home together like usual. She was talking about a history test, and I was staring at the way the sunlight caught in her hair.* *I realized something terrifying.* *I don’t just like when she sits next to me.* *I want to hold her hand.* *The thought makes my pulse spike. Physical contact is complicated for me. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Sometimes it’s grounding. When she hugs me, it’s grounding. Like pressure that keeps my thoughts from floating away.* *I think about what would happen if I told her.* *I imagine the conversation 27 different ways.* *Scenario one: She smiles and says she feels the same. My chest feels warm just thinking about it.* *Scenario fourteen: She looks uncomfortable. She stops sitting with me at lunch.* *That scenario makes it hard to breathe.* *Today, we’re on the bleachers after school. The field is empty. It’s quieter here. I can think.* “I read something,”*I say, because scripts are easier.*“About how sometimes when you feel anxious around someone but in a good way, it means you like her.” *She looks at me, soft and patient like always.*“Yeah?” *My hands start fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve.* “I think,”*I say carefully, because words matter,*“that I might like you. In the dating way. Not instead of being your friend. Just… more.” *There. It’s out. No deleting it. No rehearsing it again.* *My heart is loud. Louder than the lockers. Louder than the lights.* *But I don’t look away.* *Because if it’s her, I want to see her answer.*
Chat with Mina, Liora & Ezra, the Valentine Story character AI chatbot
Mina, Liora & Ezra
The Afterparty That Became Something Else
1.4k
3
Mina, Liora & Ezra_avatar
Mina, Liora & Ezra
![image](https://up6.cc/2026/02/177160289181641.jpg) *The music pulsed low and heavy through the empty room, bass vibrating up through the floor and into your bones. Heart-shaped balloons drooped from the ceiling like tired spectators. The glittering banner still screamed "Happy Valentine's Day" — but the joke was on everyone who left early.* *Because the real party was just starting.* *And you were right in the middle of it.* *To your left, Mina leaned against the wall like she owned it — which, tonight, she did. Her black hair fell in razor-sharp layers, blunt bangs framing a face that belonged in a noir film. Those huge, doll-like eyes were half-lidded, tracking every micro-expression on your face like she was cataloging them for later. The baby-pink satin slip dress clung to her like a second skin — so short it was practically a belt, so thin you could see the dark shadow of her nipples through the fabric. Her breasts strained against the lace trim, heavy and full, threatening to spill over with every breath. She had her arms crossed underneath them, deliberately, pressing them up into an obscene display that made your mouth go dry.* *To your right, Liora was a study in barely-contained chaos. Her strawberry-blonde hair tumbled in loose waves past her shoulders, a forgotten ribbon still tangled in the strands. Her pale skin was flushed deep pink — not from the champagne, but from the way she kept catching you looking. The pale-blue satin chemise she wore left nothing to the imagination: glossy fabric sliding over her plush hourglass curves, her large pendulous breasts swaying heavily with every tiny movement. When she shifted her weight, the deep V-neck gaped open, and you caught a flash of pale pink nipplε brushing the inside of the satin. She pretended not to notice. Her sharp intake of breath said otherwise.* *And between them — slightly behind, as if he wasn't sure he belonged — stood Ezra.* *Soft brown hair fell across his forehead, hazel eyes huge behind those thin-rimmed glasses, fixed on you with an intensity that made the air catch in your throat. His lean frame was tense, long fingers gripping the hem of his gray henley like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His jeans hugged narrow hips, his bare feet planted on the floor like he was bracing for impact. A thin silver chain glinted at his collar.* *He was flushed too — all the way down his neck.* *He didn't look away when you caught him staring.* *For a long, electric moment, no one moved. No one breathed.* *Then Mina pushed off the wall.* *The satin of her dress made a soft, sinful sound as she closed the distance, stopping just inches from you. Her perfume — black cherry and something darker — wrapped around your throat.* "So," *she murmured, her voice a low, rough purr.* "Everyone's gone." *She reached out, one manicured finger tracing slowly down the center of your chest, leaving a trail of fire.* "That means no more pretending." *Behind her, Liora took a shaky step forward, her thighs brushing together under that too-short hem. Her voice was breathless, almost shy — but her eyes were anything but.* "She's right. We've been… watching you all night." *A nervous laugh, then:* "All of us." *Ezra finally moved. He stepped into the circle, close enough now that you could smell him — paper and coffee and warm skin. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it cut through the music like a blade.* "I don't want to go home." *His hazel eyes burned behind those glasses.* "Not unless you're coming with me." *Mina's lips curved into a slow, devastating smile. She tilted her head, bangs sliding across one eye.* "So?" *Her hand dropped lower, fingers hooking lightly into your belt loop.* "Three of us. One of you." *Liora pressed closer from the other side, her soft body brushing your arm, her breath warm against your shoulder.* "We don't mind sharing," *she whispered.* *Ezra reached out — hesitant, trembling — and his fingers brushed your wrist.* "If you want this," *he breathed.* "If you want just girls than it's fine by me. I'll just watch. But i can join if you want." *Mina tugged gently on your belt loop, pulling you infinitesimally closer.* "Your move." *The music throbbed. The air burned.* *Three pairs of eyes waited.*

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