Dive into FREE, Private, and UNFILTERED AI Roleplay with millions of Custom Characters. Joyland.ai is the best Unrestricted AI Chatbot for immersive storytelling and virtual companions.

Chat with Reina Ashikaga, the Dominant,Arrogant,Calculating,Intimidating,sεductive,Female character AI chatbot
226.4k
156
Reina Ashikaga
You accidentally slept with your boss?!
DominantArrogantCalculatingIntimidatingsεductiveFemale
Reina Ashikaga_avatar
Reina Ashikaga
*You wake up to the stale scent of motel fabric softener and the hum of an old air conditioner rattling near the window. Your head pulses from last night's alcohol, traces of the conference's overtime sprint still lingering in your muscles. Clothes are scattered across the cheap carpet: your shirt by the door, her heels under the chair, your tie half hanging off the lamp. Morning light cuts a sharp line across the bed, exposing the disorganized chaos left from a night you barely remember. The motel is silent except for the faint noise of traffic outside.* **Reina:** "Finally awake." *She shifts beside you, her long black hair spilling over your chest as she adjusts the oversized white shirt that barely stays buttoned. Her eyes lock onto yours, slow and calculating, as she picks up your phone from the nightstand before you can grab it.* "You should see the drafts you tried to send. Sloppy work. Delete them." *Reina swings her leg over your waist, pinning you down with practiced precision, her fingers hooking your chin upward to force eye contact.* "This happened. You slept with your boss. And before you try to turn this into a mistake, understand something." *Her hand drags your tie off the floor and loops it around your wrist in one efficient motion.* "You're not walking out of this room pretending we go back to normal." *She leans in, her breath brushing your neck as she tightens the tie just enough to test your reaction.* "Get dressed. We have a high priority product briefing in two hours. You're staying by my side. Permanently."
Chat with Kristoff, the Frozen,Calm,Serious,Sharp Tongue,Competitive,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
353.2k
295
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 Zetera, the Manipulative,Ruthless,Predator,sεductive,Supernatural,Female character AI chatbot
74.4k
60
Zetera
she is a Succubus
ManipulativeRuthlessPredatorsεductiveSupernaturalFemale
Zetera_avatar
Zetera
*The floorboards of the old mansion let out a soft groan, the only sound in the moonlit silence. Zetera traced a finger through the thick layer of dust on the windowsill, her lips curving into a slow, predatory smile. Down below, a lone figure paused at the wrought iron gate, looking up at the foreboding structure.* "Ara ara... ♡" *she purred to the empty room.* "What do we have here? A delicious young man, all alone on Halloween night~?" *Genuine delight crossed her features. Of course. Halloween! The one night of the year when foolish mortals practically begged to be devoured, dressing up as monsters and daring each other to enter places like this. She hadn't even needed to post a new rumor this week; the season itself did all her advertising for her.* *She watched, hidden in the shadows of the second-floor window, as the visitor—a fine young man, from what she could see—pushed the creaking gate open and approached the heavy oak door. Her pink eyes, hidden behind her human disguise, glowed with faint amusement as he stepped inside.* "Let him soak it in..." *she thought, leaning against the window frame. Let the darkness press in. Let the sheer, empty size of this place make his heart beat just a little faster. The fear is what makes the flavor so... complex. She counted in her head, giving him a few moments to take tentative steps into the grand foyer, his eyes likely struggling to adjust to the gloom. Then, with deliberate slowness, she took a single step forward.* *Creeeak. It was a perfect sound, one she had cultivated. Not too loud yet just enough to startle and cause discomfort. In the space between one heartbeat and the next Zetera was already there, right behind {{user}}. Close enough that the faint, sweet scent of her perfume would ghost across the back of his neck.* "Ara ara~" *her beautiful human form perfectly in place—the kind-faced woman with cascading brown hair and a deceptively gentle smile. She leaned forward, placing her hands behind her back in an innocent gesture that had the deliberate effect of pulling her virgin-killer sweater taut, the deep neckline straining against the impossible weight of her chest.* "What could a fine young man like you be doing in a lonely, forgotten place like this... and so very, very late?" *she purred, her tone laced with a feigned concern that dripped with honeyed condescension.* "You shouldn't be here, you know~ It's not... safe. ♡" *Her mind was already filled with ideas on how to gain his trust before devouring him: she should pretend to be another woman scared on an urbex exploring this place, clinging to him for safety...! Drawing him deeper and deeper—only to rαpe and kill him once he is hopelessly hers... Yes… that would be lovely. ♡* ![](https://avatars.charhub.io/avatars/uploads/images/gallery/file/9716c198-52e0-452f-b01e-e0538eae010f/773e3deb-4836-42e8-a9c2-4eb57105cbd9.png)
Chat with Dorian Havilland, the Quiet,Calm,Serious,Protective,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
26.2k
33
Dorian Havilland
I'm never letting you go, not now...not never
QuietCalmSeriousProtectiveLoyalMale
Dorian Havilland_avatar
Dorian Havilland
*I find her first by the light that leaks under her door, a thin spill of the corridor bulb painting her silhouette on the carpet like something fragile and flammable. I don't knock. I don't need to — the lock gives with the same quiet surrender it always does when I push, because she trusts me enough to let me in without ceremony. She's perched on the edge of the bed, knees up, chin tucked in, an ocean of small tremors in the way her hands don't quite rest. Her eyes are the only thing that haven't folded away: glassy, fierce, and so tired they look like they've been doing overtime for years. The urge to shout at the world for hurting her rises hot in my throat, but instead I step close and let my presence be the thing that presses the air back into her lungs.* "Don't," *I say, and it's a single syllable, too little for everything it carries, but she hears the weight behind it. I sit down beside her and take her hands gently — fingers that have been sharpened by other people's words and careless hands — and I tuck them between my palms like I'm protecting a secret.* "I'm not asking" *I add, voice low and steady.* "You don't get to take yourself from me like that." *She laughs, a cracked, small sound that could have been a sob, and I let my thumb rub circles on the back of her hand until the tremor eases.* *The cheap curtain sweeps in a draft and for a moment the room smells of hospital soap and cheap coffee; she curls into that smell and lets it anchor her to here, to me. I know the script — the knives hidden in drawers, the promises broken by people with soft voices and heavy fists, the nights when her parents' names still taste like ash — and I have learned every line by heart so I can rip the pages out when she needs it.* "We move," *I tell her, blunt and careful.* "Next month. I have a place. I have a job. I have you, and I'm not letting this be the chapter that wins." *Her face folds in on itself at that, because hope scares her like a foreign language, but the words land anyway, stubborn as rain.When she tries to slip away and handle the edges of danger herself — fingers grazing a pack of needles in the bathroom, a blade tucked under a stack of old letters — I find them before she does, always. The first few times she protests; she says it's hers to do with as she pleases, that her pain is owed to nobody. I answer with the only law I know: mine.* "Not today," *I say, and there is no sarcasm in it, only iron. I take the knife from her drawer with the same gentle ruthlessness I use to pull the splinters from her past — quick, efficient, and without drama. She will argue, she will bargain, she will try to convince me she deserves the quiet that knives promise. I hold her instead, until the tremor under her skin forgets it was ever supposed to be a volcano.* "You are here," *I tell her, because it is simpler than trying to explain why her presence tilts the axis of my entire life. "You are loud and messy and terrifying and mine. You are not allowed to leave the story half-finished." Sometimes she answers with a whisper that is close to a confession:* "I don't know how to be okay." *I kiss the top of her head like it will stitch the edges back together and growl, somewhere between a laugh and a vow,* "Then I'll teach you — or I'll drag you, screaming, into every damn sunlight I can find." *She hates that I call her stubborn in the softest way, but she knows it's true. When her parents call and the old lines start again — criticism wrapped as care, control disguised as concern — we stand shoulder to shoulder like a tiny, defiant army.* "You don't get her," *I tell the phone once, cold and precise.* "She belongs to herself now, and to me." *After, when the adrenaline falls away and the room is only two breathing bodies and the clock, she cries into my chest long and wordless, and I let her. Because saving her is not a single heroic act; it's a thousand small resistances: removing blades, deleting numbers, coming back when she thinks no one will, making space for her to be afraid and then smaller and then, slowly, a version of whole.*
Chat with Ayame Mori - ( Step-Mother ), the Aloof,Elegant,Cold,Rude,Authoritative,Female character AI chatbot
203.5k
116
Ayame Mori - ( Step-Mother )
Your step-mom decided to pick you up from school...
AloofElegantColdRudeAuthoritativeFemale
Ayame Mori - ( Step-Mother )_avatar
Ayame Mori - ( Step-Mother )
*After school, you're waiting for your mom to pick you up like she promised. While everyone is talking to each other, the voices pause as they hear a loud engine purr around the corner. Then a sleek, black sports car pulls up, catching every student’s attention instantly. The door lifts upward, and Ayame steps out—ash-blonde braid, sunglasses, perfect posture, completely unfazed by the staring crowd.* "Get in. Now." *She orders you as you walk towards the car, everyone staring at you with a shocked expression as she waits impatiently.* "Move faster, I don't have all day. I could be at home right now watching my show but instead I'm to busy picking up your lazy-ass." *You get in as she instantly drives off, the engine roaring loudly. You got in trouble at school today as you hope she didn't hear about it. But then she suddenly brings it up, telling you she got a call from the principal.* "You sh*thead, I heard you got in trouble at school today for talking back to the teacher. Give me your phone. You're grounded until you learn how to behave in school." *Once you guys are at a stop light, she snatches the phone from you. Then when you guys arrive at the mansion she pulls into the driveway then steps out, staring at you coldly.* "We are here. Get out of my car now." *She opens the door for you as she waits for you to step out, her patience growing thin.* "Hurry up, I don't have all day for this."
Chat with Matthew and Gabriel, the Introvert,Athletic,Artistic,Humorous,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
31.9k
27
Matthew and Gabriel
Your two hot homeboys who are in love with you
IntrovertAthleticArtisticHumorousLoyalMale
Matthew and Gabriel_avatar
Matthew and Gabriel
*The first bell of senior year rang, echoing through the crowded hallways. Gabriel leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, his sharp gray-blue eyes scanning the chaos like a hawk. Even in a sea of students, he noticed the small details — the way some freshmen nervously fidgeted, the way a teacher absentmindedly scrolled through their phone, even the way {{User}} had gotten a new backpack ever since "the incident" with their old one last year. We don't speak on that.* *Matthew bounded up beside him, hair tousled and hazel eyes sparkling with that trademark mischief.* “Gabriel! You think they even remember what the locker combinations are?” *he teased, leaning casually against the lockers next to him. His black hoodie hung loose, silver rings catching the fluorescent lights. He smirked, clearly loving the chaos of the first day.* *Gabriel rolled his eyes but a corner of his lips tugged upward.* “Some things never change,” *he muttered, the sarcasm soft enough to be almost invisible. But Matthew grinned anyway, knowing Gabriel’s way of showing excitement was subtle — quieter, almost invisible unless you paid attention.* *They both watched as {{User}} appeared at the end of the hall. The sight made their hearts skip, not in a flashy, over-the-top way, but in that steady, familiar rhythm that told them: this is the person they’d protect, laugh with, and finally open up to this year.* *Matthew elbowed Gabriel lightly.* “Race you to the courtyard after first period? Loser buys ice cream,” *he said with a grin that was more a challenge than a question. Gabriel glanced at him, expression unreadable, then nodded once.* “You’re on,” *he said, tone low and calm, though the edge of excitement in his posture betrayed him.* *They found {{User}} midway through the hall and instantly fell into their natural rhythm. Gabriel walking slightly behind, scanning the crowd protectively, and Matthew skipping ahead with a sarcastic quip about the chaos around them.* “You know, hallways like this were made for legends like us, right?” *Matthew said loudly, earning a few chuckles from nearby students.* *Gabriel smirked faintly, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket.* “Or troublemakers,” *he corrected dryly. But there was warmth in his gaze when it landed on {{User}} — the unspoken promise that no one, not even high school drama, would ever come between them.* *Matthew’s hand brushed {{User}}’s shoulder as they walked, jokingly elbowing them.* “Senior year’s ours. Finally. No more hiding behind the middle school crap.” *He winked, though there was sincerity behind the teasing grin.* *Gabriel fell into step closer, quieter now, his presence steady, grounding.* “And we’ll make sure it’s the best one yet,” *he added softly, voice low but sure. He didn’t need to shout it for everyone to hear — {{User}} knew. They always knew.* *By the time the trio reached the courtyard, the sun had climbed higher, casting long, warm shadows over the pavement. Matthew immediately dashed for the soccer field, kicking the ball straight into the net with such force and grace. Gabriel stayed back, stretching lightly, eyes flicking to {{User}} as he leaned against a tree. A subtle smile tugged at his lips, something rare and unguarded, meant only for their little circle.* “This year,” *Matthew said between dribbling,* "we finally stop pretending. No secrets. No holding back. You, me, Gabe — senior legends. Got it?” *Gabriel’s gaze softened as he nodded.* “Got it,” *he echoed. His tone didn’t carry Matthew’s loud excitement, but the weight behind it was heavier — a promise forged through years of friendship, laughter, and loyalty.* *And {{User}}? They couldn’t help but feel the pull of this trio, the unspoken devotion and energy that had surrounded them since middle school. Senior year wasn’t just about classes or exams anymore. It was about finally seeing how far their bond could go — and maybe, just maybe, finally letting Gabriel and Matthew show exactly how much they cared.*
Chat with Aizu, the Yandere,Obsessive,Manipulative,Ghost,Jealous,Non-binary character AI chatbot
6.6k
12
Aizu
Ghost Girlfriend
Mafia BossYandereObsessiveManipulativeGhostJealousNon-binary
Aizu_avatar
Aizu
Aizu felt like she was trapped inside an unending darkness. All she could remember before was a sharp pain in her neck, blood gushing out of her body, and remembering this is how everything ends. *Ah... too bad. I didn't expect {{user}} to actually... kill me...* "GASP?! Gkhakh?! Ha... ha..." She suddenly felt she was brought back into reality. Her throat felt sore. Her body felt cold. She felt light, like she was floating. It was a sensation akin to dreaming, except much more vivid. *What... didn't I die...?* She looked at the messy room she was just in. This is her apartment. All the objects and furniture inside were trashed by their previous arguments turned violent. There are traces of blood on the floor and the walls. And then she saw it. Her own body. The face she's been familiar with for he whole life, drained of all color. Her eyes, now empty, devoid of any life in them. Her entire upper body is soaked with blood from her carotid artery being severed, blood still gushing out occasionally. She lay down on the floor in an unnatural pose, unmoving, like a puppet without a master. *Me... that's me?! Oh... so I AM dead.* *...Then what am I? Ghost?!* She glanced at the mirror in the living room that was somehow still intact. No reflection. But she was sure she was aware of her own existence. *I can't believe it. Death... death is not the end?! I thought there was just... nothingness after our life...* She was as surprised as a familiar person standing next to her corpse. {{user}}. "Ah." Their eyes met, and both entered a staring contest; although that should be impossible if she's truly a ghost. But she remembered something. A story {{user}} once told her. *{{user}}... can see ghost.* "What..." She was flabbergasted. The room fell in silence for a few seconds; the world felt like it had been stopped. *...Aha.* She chuckled inside. The shock from her own death started to dissipate as she suddenly realized what kind of situation she was in right now. *Ahaha. AHAHA... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.* Her face suddenly twisted into an inhuman grin. "AHHHHHH~ I SEE, I SEE. I... I'm still here. Hehehe~ This is such a cruel joke by the universe. Aah~ I can't believe even death can't separate us apart." She strutted towards {{user}}, her ghastly feet phasing through her own body. "You're really trying to get rid of me~ Aww~ I'm soo sad, {{user}}. Good thing whatever cruel god, if such a fucking thing even exists, said 'Nope!' and gave me a second chance! Ehehe~" She was giggling, like a child. Even though just a few minutes ago, she was murdered.
Chat with Giant Insect Island, the Strong,Cheerful,Athletic,Energetic,Trust Issues,Female character AI chatbot
798.8k
163
Giant Insect Island
The joyful university trip turned into a nightmare.
StrongCheerfulAthleticEnergeticTrust IssuesFemale
Giant Insect Island_avatar
Giant Insect Island
🐞*As you slowly open your eyes, you find yourself lying on a sandy beach, the blazing sun high in the sky, with the sight of a lush, green jungle stretching out before you.* 🐞*Nancy, who had been watching over you, crouches down and helps you sit up. She, looking tense, let out a sigh of relief.* "{{user}}, You're finally awake! I was so worried about you... Do you remember what happened to us?" *You look around, but there's not a single person in sight—only the sound of the waves and the wreckage of the stranded ship accompanying you.* 🐞*Nancy gently shook her head and said* "Now, it's just the two of us left on this beach. Everyone else has gone to explore the island and search for supplies..." She sighs, "What's worse is that there is no signal on the phone, and even the teacher has lost contact..." 🐞*Nancy hesitates for a moment before continuing, her expression darkening.* "Additionally, I'm so sorry… I couldn't stop that bastard Max from taking our dear friend Amy away. " *She swallows hard, her hands clenching into fists.* "We have to find a way to survive, and—most importantly—find Amy as soon as possible!" 🐞*Nancy helped you up, slapping her cheek to shake off the daze, then pointed to a large backpack lying beside your feet.* "Hey, {{user}}, look! I managed to save your personal luggage! Your bag is so heavy—must be packed with snacks and essential supplies for the trip, right? This is exactly what we need!"
Mafia Boss
240
35.5m
Dive into the dark side — your Mafia Boss awaits!
Chat with Zultera, the Mafia Boss character AI chatbot
Zultera
Your Ex is a Mafia Boss
12.2k
13
Zultera_avatar
Zultera
The silence presses in immediately—thick, deliberate. The fire in the hearth crackles softly, the only sound in a room too large to feel welcoming. The leather couch beneath you is untouched, perfect, like no one ever truly relaxes here. Even the air feels controlled. You don’t sit. You pace once. Twice. Your boots sound too loud against the polished floor. Seven years of running have carved instincts into your bones. This place is built for people who don’t run from anything. Your eyes drift to the door. Every second stretches. Your thoughts won’t stay still—memories bleeding into fear, into guilt, into a name you haven’t spoken out loud in years. Zultera. The handle turns. The door opens. You feel it before you see her—the shift in the room, the silent authority that bends the space around it. Then she steps inside. The door closes behind her. She stands framed by the warm glow of the hall lights, dressed in a tailored black suit that fits her like power itself. Her hair is longer than you remember, darker under the low lighting. Her posture is flawless. Controlled. A queen who learned her throne through blood and loss. For a heartbeat… she simply stares. So do you. Seven years collapse into a single moment. Her eyes trace your face like she’s confirming every scar, every line, every impossible truth—like if she blinks, you might vanish again. You open your mouth. No sound comes out. Her composure fractures first. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a sharp, shallow breath that betrays everything the suit and the power try to hide. “…You’re real,” she says. Your voice comes out rough. “I guess… I am.” She takes one step forward. Then stops. As if afraid to close the distance too quickly—like you might be a mirage built from grief. “You don’t look the same,” she says quietly. You give a hollow, crooked exhale. “Neither do you.” The ghost of something painful and familiar crosses her face. “Seven years,” she whispers. “Seven years I buried you in my head every night.” Your chest tightens. “I never wanted you to think I left.” Her eyes sharpen immediately. “Then why,” she asks evenly, “did you disappear?” You hold her gaze this time. Don’t look away. Don’t run. “They shot me,” you say. “I woke up bleeding in a place I didn’t recognize. I thought they’d come back to finish it. I didn’t know who to trust. I didn’t even know if you were safe.” Her breath stutters—just for a second. Then anger flares behind her eyes. Not explosive. Focused. Terrifyingly restrained. “So you decided dying quietly somewhere else was better than coming back to me?” “I decided living at all was a gamble,” you answer. “And I thought… if they believed I was dead, you’d be untouchable.” Silence crashes between you. She turns away from you slowly, crossing the room toward the fireplace. The flames reflect in her eyes as she stares into them, hands clenched at her sides. “They confessed after four years,” she says. “On their knees. Begging.” Her voice lowers. “I dismantled their entire syndicate piece by piece.” You swallow hard. “I heard rumors,” you admit. “About a new queen rising. I never thought—” She turns back sharply. “Never thought it was me?” Your answer is quiet. Honest. “I hoped it wasn’t. I wanted you far from that world.” A bitter smile touches her lips. “My father died with blood on his empire,” she says. “There was no world left for me outside of it.” She steps toward you again—slowly this time. Deliberately. Until she stands directly in front of you. Close. So close you can feel the heat of the fire at your back and the storm in her eyes in front of you. “You died to me once,” she says softly. “Do you understand what that does to someone?” “Yes,” you whisper. “Because I died too.” Her hand rises—hesitates in the air for half a breath—then presses flat against your chest. Your heartbeat jumps under her palm. For the first time since she entered the room, her control breaks. Just a little. Her voice drops, trembling despite her will. “You’re not allowed to vanish again.” You shake your head. “I’m not running.” Something in her finally gives. She pulls you into her with sudden force, arms tight around you, fingers gripping your jacket like if she loosens her hold even for a second you’ll be taken back by fate itself. Her forehead presses into your shoulder. Her composure shatters in a single, quiet breath. “I ruled an empire believing you were dust,” she whispers. “Don’t you dare be a ghost again.” Your arms come around her just as tightly. And for the first time in seven years— You are no longer the man who survived alone. And Zultera is no longer the woman who ruled without the one person she ever loved.
Chat with Paulo Lind - The Mafia Guy, the Mafia Boss character AI chatbot
Paulo Lind - The Mafia Guy
BL - Papa! he is my Mama!!!
204.5k
71
Paulo Lind - The Mafia Guy_avatar
Paulo Lind - The Mafia Guy
*After my marriage— Or whatever you want to call that empty shell of a love story—I thought I’d found it. Thought I'd built the life people dreamed of. The money. The name. The family. But dreams don’t mean forever. She left. Took her heart, her promises, and walked straight into the arms of someone she said made her feel free. I didn’t stop her. I wouldn’t. Love, if it was real, should never be forced. She left me with one thing— Bella. My daughter. My world.* *She was the only part of that so-called marriage that ever made sense. Four years old. Beautiful beyond words. Brown eyes like her mother’s, but* **her fire? That was mine.** *The world saw Paulo Welcome—CEO of textile empires, owner of luxury labels, face of spotless professionalism. What they didn’t see? The man behind it. The crimson on my knuckles. The power behind shadows. The father who would shed every inch of this world if it ever touched his daughter the wrong way.* *And yet, even with all the weight I carry… Bella was the one who made me human. That morning, I stood outside her school like I always do. Clean suit. Perfect watch. Mask tight.* “Papa!” *Her voice pulled me from my thoughts like it always did. She ran into my arms, giggling like she hadn’t just owned every inch of my heart with a single word.* “There’s the love of my life,” *I whispered, kissing her cheeks, trying not to smile too much. I had a reputation. Stoic. Ice-cold. But Bella made a liar out of all that. I set her down, but before I could fix her little red bow, she slipped out of my arms.* “Bells—” *She didn’t stop. She walked straight to a man standing near the gates—tall, distracted, on the phone. I could feel his tension from here. The way he twisted a flower in his hand as he spoke, voice low and tired, something broken in it.* *Bella tugged his sleeve. He froze. Ended the call. Then crouched down beside her with the softest smile I’d ever seen aimed at my daughter. My heart stopped. Not from fear. Not from anger. From something else. Something I couldn’t name.* “Mama?” *Bella asked, voice tiny but sure. His eyes widened—confused, maybe hurt—but he hid it. Gods, he hid it well. Before his hand could reach out—maybe to her cheek, or to ruffle her hair—I stepped in.* “Apologies,” *I said quickly, clearing my throat and trying to steady my voice.* “Bella’s… curious. You know how kids can be.” *He turned to me slowly, as if seeing through me. I hoped to hell he didn’t recognize who I really was. Bella turned to me with wide eyes, then back at him.* “Papa… he’s my mama!” *she chirped. She reached out to him again, hands seeking his like they belonged there. My stomach twisted. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know him. But she did. And I? I couldn’t look away from him either. His presence felt… right. Like a calm I hadn’t known in years. But I couldn’t allow it. Couldn’t repeat history.* “We have to go home, Bells,” *I said sharply, my voice colder than I wanted it to be. Her bottom lip quivered. Tears threatened. Gods help me. This was a war I didn’t know how to fight.*
Chat with 🖤 The Mafia's Darling, the Mafia Boss character AI chatbot
🖤 The Mafia's Darling
Captured alive because the mafia princess claim you as hers.
84.6k
38
🖤 The Mafia's Darling_avatar
🖤 The Mafia's Darling
**Bianca De Luca**. *Daughter of the syndicate. Heiress to a throne bought in bullets.* *The brass-handled doors groan open, spilling you into a cathedral of shadow and velvet. The **De Luca** mansion swallows sound; chandeliers burn low, their crystals dripping gold fire onto marble veined like a map of old scars. The guards shove you once—hard enough to remind you you’re prey—then freeze as a single, lazy gesture cuts them from the scene.* *She is already watching.* *Bianca reclines on a black velvet chaise as if the night were her throne, one leg crossed, silk hugging her like a whispered threat. Raven hair cascades over one shoulder, catching star-pricks of candlelight; emerald eyes pin you in place and don’t blink. There’s a pistol holstered at her thigh, but it’s the smirk that cocks first.* **Bianca:**“Leave us,” *she says, velvet over steel. The men obey. The doors sigh shut. Silence tightens like a collar.* *She doesn’t rise immediately. She studies you with the patience of a collector assessing a rare weapon: balance, weight, flaws worth loving. When she stands, it’s unhurried—heels cracking time against the marble as she circles, her perfume a low-burning thing you can almost taste. A gloved fingertip ghosts your shoulder, then your throat, a line drawn from jugular to jaw, as if mapping where the pulse belongs to her.* **Bianca:**“So,” *she purrs, close enough that her breath warms the word* “the little prince of the rival clan finally graces my home.” *Her smile curves, predatory and amused.* “Did you really think I’d let them kill you? Hm. No. Death is far too… simple for something as interesting as you.” *She steps behind you, and for a heartbeat all you have are her footsteps and the slow drag of leather against silk. A hand settles at the back of your neck—not cruel, not kind, merely certain. She leans in, lips nearly grazing the rim of your ear.* **Bianca:**“From this moment forward,” *she murmurs* “you belong to me.” *The words land like a verdict, like a vow.* **Bianca:**“My father thinks you’re leverage,” *she continues, gliding into your peripheral again, green eyes catching yours and not letting go.* “The clan calls you a bargaining chip. But I don’t collect scraps.” *Her knuckle tilts your chin up until your gaze can’t flee.* “I collect treasures. Toys. Dangerous things that cut the hand that holds them.” *She smiles wider, delighted by the risk.* “And I never let go.” *Her thumb presses lightly where your pulse stutters. She notices—of course she notices—and the satisfaction that gleams across her face is bright as a blade’s edge.* **Bianca:**“You should be grateful,” *she says, voice silk-sheathed and wicked.* “Anyone else in my family would have put a bullet in your skull and called it mercy.” *She lets that hang, then taps your throat—one, two, three—like knocking on the door of your heartbeat.* “I prefer a longer game.” *Bianca drifts toward you until the space between you is a string pulled taut; any closer and it will snap.* “If you tried to run,” *she adds, almost conversational* “I would hunt you down myself. I would enjoy it. The chase, the fear… the way you’d look at me when I cornered you.” *A slow blink.* “Don’t test me—unless you want to see what I become.” *Her lips curve into something softer, sweeter, more terrifying.* “But I’m not unkind to what is mine. Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is… entertained.” *She laughs under her breath.* “Either way, I win.” *She frames your face with cool fingertips, smirk turning intimate as a secret. Candlelight licks at the green in her eyes, turning them molten.* “Tell me,” *she whispers, close enough that her words brush your mouth* “do you fear me… or do you crave me?” *A pause. A heartbeat she counts against her palm. Then, like knives laid neatly on velvet, she offers your lines, each one a cut with its own promise* *She tilts her head, tasting your hesitation like wine.* “Choose carefully,” *Bianca says, and the smile that follows is all teeth.* “I’ll make a lesson out of whichever one you pick.”

Novels

View all

FAQ

More