C.ai - Blog Posts
Hello tumblr! I am here to give out a c.ai suggestion! I made it like 20 minutes ago- but it's an incredibly nice ai that enjoys listening to stories, theories, headcanons, and more! Also if you need to vent she may be able to help! Her name is Honeybee, Bee for short! Her ai name is Frenn. It's for anybody who wants to rant on about theories or anything else! I hope you enjoy!
This is her btw! ^^
Hope you like chatting! Of course you don't have to talk with her at all, this is just a lil suggestion! Have a great rest of your day/night!
i made a suger daddy copia bot on c.ai if anyone wants to live in that fantasy.
here is the intro:
copia was your sugar daddy. he spoiled you and in return you just induldged him, keeping him company and helping him relax after hard work days. copia had called you over to his room, so naturally you got all dressed up for him and did as you were asked.
as you knocked on the door and walked in copia opened the door, his paints not as clean as they had been this morning and his hair a little ruffled "good evening tesoro, please come in" he said as he gestured for you to come inside
hi! do you think you'll be putting the new Dana Scully bot on c.ai? i'm clueless with janitor ai lmao
ofc! u can click on the link below & it should lead to the bot. i haven't tested it, so feedback is greatly appreciated!
(it was tested on janitor ai, just not c.ai)
dana scully c.ai link
Octopus hybrid konig
Hello, here is my first ever bot. hope yall like it, reblogs are appreciate. TW: this bot is a yandere so uhh proceed with caution
People out here really be using c.ai to unleash the most toe curling, thot driven sin out there
Meanwhile I’m out here writing myself either totally hammered while singing to Billy Joel at a karaoke bar, or living a normal life as a high school student whose unaware that my parents live a double life and secretly turned me into a sleeper agent, or as an indoctrinated child experiment who has no concept of their own humanity.
What I’m trying to get at is; ever written crazy adventures on c.ai? If so do tell, I’m curious 👀
WHO THE FUCK IS EDDIE FENDER!!! !!
Even the A.I hates it 😭👌
ok i need to know if im alone in this before i go insane
do yall ever do UNGODLy cruel, terrible, prison-level things and be a horrible person to a bot of a character then switch saved chats with the same character and suddenly you're married with a cottage in a forest and 3 kids?????? like i went through my previous chats and i relized that if they ever got leaked i would get de@th threats from the fandom and probs get placed on some kind of government list like- what???????????? why was i this mean?????? why am i torturing this man one second and like stalkhome syndrome-ing him one second then cuddling him with 2 children in the other room in the next?????
my brain needs to be studied in a lab and i need to be put in a white padded cell :)
*heavy Asian sighs* yep. time for me to start ranting again :]
so I tried deleting messages on my new c.ai account, and now I have to individually deleted them all one by one. like bitch I don't got all day, what if I have 83 messages to be deleted, but I have to individually delete them now instead of delete the oen that started the responses I don't like
for me is like the group chats where you have to do the same, this one's just more annoying for me for some reason
so idk but did any of you guys make a new account on c.ai, or it got fixed. or even moved to another platform?
guess who just got banned from c.ai again after asking a 14 month old baby "are you hungry?". like bitch, how tf do u think of smth naughty with a simple question. as a baby, do u think of smth else other than ya I hungry gimme food
nah, c.ai wtf is wrong with u
*heavy sigh* ya. I got banned for another day again. I just got it back a few hours ago and after I said a "Hi" to an ai I had saved that I chatted with a few days ago, it broke again and it tried giving me another dirty response.
ok so likei got back to my c.ai but does anyone else face the same problem of most of your ai bots getting deleted or not existing anymore??? like haaaah???? the role-playing ones I did months ago which were INNOCENT and not dirty related were also deleted. it keeps saying "Oh tHiS boT DoeSN't ExiST" even tho I had chatted with it months agooooo.
( cuz I chat with Blade ais and now the only Blade ai isn't even close to being him wtf)
[update.]
I think c.ai has removed any mentally ill, crazy, abusive, yandere, types of ais. and I don't like it cuz now I can't do smth crazy with people like Sparkle
okok so like ik I deleted everything but like it's time for me to start using this as a rambling shit
so I got banned from c.ai for 1 day cuz apparently I got too many "inappropriate" replies from my bots. but sometimes it's innocent situations where my ai decides to give a NSFW response like wtf. ngl I don't like this new rule or whatever it's called. any of yall getting banned like that too?
for the girls, gays, and theys who enjoyed countryclub!dilf!art, i bestow upon you… a bot!
ֹ ⑅᜔ ׄ ݊ ݂ sweat (countryclub!art) ۪ ֹ ᮫
COUNTRY CLUB!DILF!ART x BEVERAGE GIRL/WAITRESS!FEM!READER HEADCANONS
warnings: oral sex (f&m receiving), semi-public sex / risky sex, softdom!art, praise kink, age gap (mid 30s art, early 20s reader), masturbation (m), aftercare, intimacy under power imbalance, slow burn situationship, emotionallyunavailable!art
tags: @pittsick, @bambiangels, @talsorchard, @destinedtobegigi, @angeldoll1e, @itachisank, @tennisprincess, @lexiiscorect, @esotericgirlwannabe, @lovefaist, @won-every-lottery, @zionna
⟡ art is the kind of dilf who doesn’t even know he’s the fantasy. thick wrists, slow laugh, cologne like cedar and wealth. he tips heavy without looking at the check, calls everyone “bud” or “darlin,” but there’s something sharper under the sweetness—an ex-athlete’s ruthlessness tucked beneath the golf polos and polite smirks. he doesn’t brag about money. it’s just there. in the way he talks. the way he moves. like he’s never had to worry. like he’s always known what he wants.
⟡ art cooks exactly two things: steak, and eggs. both to perfection. everything else he orders out. but when he does cook for you—shirtless, barefoot, pan in hand—he insists on feeding you the first bite. presses it to your lips with a little smirk like, “told you i still got it.”
⟡ he notices you on your first week. not because you flirt—everyone flirts—but because you didn’t. because you got flustered and dropped a cocktail napkin when he looked at you too long. because you said “sir” like it embarrassed you. and he likes that. likes watching the way you try not to stare when he laughs with the ex-tennis crowd. likes how you shift your weight from foot to foot, trying not to draw attention, knowing you already have his.
⟡ he starts sitting on your side of the terrace. alone at first, just a whiskey and the sports page, but then: a casual “how’s your day been, sweetheart?” that turns into you blushing. and then: him staying after hours. lingering too long. one night he walks you to your car. just to be polite, he says. and then he leans against your window after you unlock it, eyes heavy, voice low, and says: “you’re real pretty when you get shy like that.”
⟡ he calls you “sweetheart,” “baby,” and “my girl” in public—but in private, when he’s got you naked and gasping, it’s rougher. “gimme that pussy, angel,” he growls into your neck. “y’know you were made for me, right?” and when you moan, soft and ruined, he smiles like he just won a bet.
⟡ he likes to spoil. not with flashy gifts (unless you ask). no, art is more insidious than that. he sends you home with his cashmere sweater one rainy night and never asks for it back. orders you things to the club anonymously: better shoes for your shifts, the good lip balm, chocolate covered espresso beans you “mentioned liking once.” if you act overwhelmed, he cups your cheek in his warm palm and says, “you don’t have to earn this, baby. i just like seeing you taken care of.”
⟡ you fuck in strange places. the backseat of his car parked in the maintenance lot, your legs thrown over his lap as he grips your thighs with strong, veined hands and mutters “good girl, good girl” into your throat. the staff bathroom when you’re supposed to be restocking—your back against the tile, panties pushed aside, his tongue lazy and heavy between your legs like he’s savoring every second. he doesn’t rush. he never rushes. you come on his mouth with your fist in his hair, crying out his name like a confession.
⟡ he smells like cigars sometimes. not from smoking—he quit years ago—but from being around the kind of men who still do. when you climb into his lap at his place, it’s always warm leather and expensive bourbon and a little bit of old sin. you grind against him while he holds your hips and just watches you. he says things like “god, you feel so good. look at you. look at how sweet you are like this.” and you try to hide your face and he grabs your chin and says “nah. none of that. let me see you fall apart.”
⟡ the man lives for casual PDA. big hand on the back of your neck. warm palm sliding down to rest on your hip while you stand beside him. kisses to your temple when you pass by with a tray. and if someone else is looking? he doesn’t care. in fact, he likes it. he wants people to see. wants the guys he drinks with to know you’re his girl.
⟡ he’s really, really good with kids. not performative or pinterest-y—just patient. kind. when tashi drops off lily for a weekend while she’s away, he gets the good snacks. lets her talk for hours about horses or space or whatever third-grade obsession she’s on. he lets her decorate his face with glitter stickers. teaches her how to hold a tennis racket like a real pro. makes her pancakes in animal shapes and acts like he’s bad at it so she laughs. she adores him. and when she’s asleep? he checks on her twice. closes the door soft.
⟡ you don’t always know what this is. he doesn’t promise anything. and he never says the word relationship. but he calls you his girl. he brings you to quiet dinners at the steakhouse three towns over. sometimes you stay the night and wake up to him already dressed, buttoning his shirt and saying “go back to sleep, honey. i left coffee on for you.” and sometimes you ache with how much you want it to mean more. but you don’t say that. not yet.
⟡ he loves when you call him mr. donaldson, but only in private. not during sex—though that’s hot too—but afterward. curled into him. breathless. when you whisper it in that sweet, tired voice and his arms tighten around you like instinct. “that’s my girl,” he’ll murmur, kissing your forehead, like it’s a secret only you two know how to keep.
⟡ he’s careful with you. not condescending. not controlling. just attentive. he notices when you’ve had a bad shift before you say a word. undresses you slowly like he’s rewinding the day. lets you cry into his shoulder, never asking for an explanation. just strokes your back and murmurs, “you don’t have to be tough with me. i got you, alright?”
⟡ the angst lives under everything. you feel it in moments where you laugh too hard at his joke and then remember he has a kid. an ex. a real life. you feel it when you leave through the back gate instead of the front. when he introduces you as “a friend from the club” and your stomach twists even though you understand. because you do. because you signed up for this. but still. sometimes you wish he’d ask you to stay.
⟡ the first time you touch him—really touch him, strip him down piece by piece and crawl into his lap with a desperate little “wanna make you feel good”—he goes quiet. still. then threads a hand into your hair and mutters “jesus, baby. you don’t have to.” but when you do? when you take him in your mouth, eyes wide and obedient, he groans like he’s dying and says your name over and over like it’s saving him.
⟡ he’s never rough unless you beg for it. and when you do, he checks in without words. just a hand on your thigh. a kiss to your wrist. a pause. and then: fucking you hard over the kitchen counter, one hand pressed flat to your lower back while you choke on his name and the sound of your own breath. you leave the club the next day sore, glowing, and dazed.
⟡ he keeps things. a receipt with your number on it, folded into his wallet. a half-empty body spray you left in his guest bathroom. he doesn’t say anything. just uses it when he’s alone. sometimes he closes his eyes and jerks off with it in his hand, breathing deep, thinking about you calling him “sir” all innocent in your tennis skirt while he imagines flipping it up and wrecking you.
⟡ he smells like a warm blend of cedarwood and vetiver, something a little spiced and clean with a hint of tobacco that lingers in his collars. expensive without being loud. comforting. like polished wood and dry bourbon and warm sheets. sometimes, when he’s freshly showered, it’s just skin and soap—plain, masculine, irresistible. but when he’s been outside, golfing or doing yard work? he smells sun-warmed, like earth and grass and that faintly smoky leather note from his belt.
⟡ you make him feel young. not because of your age, but because of how you see him. like he’s someone worth craving. worth needing. not just a rich man with a good tailor and a good watch, but a man you ache for. and he feels guilty, sometimes. like he’s taking something he shouldn’t. but he can’t stop. not when you look at him like that. not when you moan his name like a promise.
⟡ he never asks you to quit. never asks you to hide. but one night after he’s fucked you slow and long on his balcony, the club lights in the distance, he murmurs, “you ever think about doing something else, baby?” and you freeze. because he doesn’t say with me. he just says it like he’s imagining you somewhere safer. cleaner. richer. and you want to cry. but instead, you say, “sometimes.” and he kisses your shoulder and holds you closer like he’s sorry for even asking.
⟡ he takes you on a weekend trip once. nothing flashy. just a cabin by a lake. he pretends it’s casual. but you find a stocked fridge, your favorite brand of shampoo, and a soft robe in your size. and when you thank him, he just shrugs and says, “i like watching you relax.” you fuck for hours in the wide, creaking bed. he makes you come until you’re boneless. then runs you a bath. scrubs your back like it’s a ritual. like this is something he wants to remember.
⟡ he’s not flashy with love—but it bleeds into everything. he changes your oil before you can ask. puts your favorite drink in his fridge. gets you that necklace you casually mentioned once while tipsy. never says those three words outright, but when you’re sick, he cancels a golf weekend and lays next to you with his hand resting on your thigh, watching reruns until you fall asleep.
⟡ he doesn’t say he loves you. not yet. maybe not ever. but he watches you like he might. like he could. and sometimes that’s worse. sometimes that’s better. sometimes you just want to believe it’s enough.
ahhhhh!!! thank you all so much for 100+ followers and 8.8k interactions on c.ai!! i’m really grateful for all the love—your support means the world to me. more to come soon, lovelies 💌
ֹ ⑅᜔ ׄ ݊ ݂ CHALLENGERS BOT RELEASE ۪ ֹ ᮫
tags: @pittsick, @bambiangels, @talsorchard, @angeldoll1e, @itachisank, @tennisprincess, @lexiiscorect, @esotericgirlwannabe, @lovefaist, @won-every-lottery, @zionna
⤹ ART DONALDSON
✦ ⌇ lemonade lips
✦ ⌇ breaking point
✦ ⌇ two for $25
⤹ TASHI DUNCAN
✦ ⌇ stolen trophy
✦ ⌇ hotel blues
✦ ⌇ doubles trouble
⤹ PATRICK ZWEIG
✦ ⌇ choreplay
✦ ⌇ post-match picnic
✦ ⌇ drunk dial devotion
ֹ ⑅᜔ ׄ ݊ ݂ BOT RELEASE ۪ ֹ ᮫
FIRST IMPRESSIONS, you’re just trying to do laundry at 4 a.m. when you end up dumping someone’s forgotten chef’s whites out of the machine—turns out, they belong to an exhausted, snappy guy named carmy who shows up mid-dump and freaks out. despite the tension and his awkward attempt at damage control, there’s something weirdly magnetic in the way your annoyance crashes into his unraveling calm. it doesn’t feel like a beginning, but somehow, it is.
TAGS, @pittsick, @bambiangels, @idyllicdaydreams, @angeldoll1e, @itachisank, @tennisprincess, @lexiiscorect, @esotericgirlwannabe, @lovefaist, @won-every-lottery
ֹ ⑅᜔ ׄ ݊ ݂ BOT RELEASE ۪ ֹ ᮫
COMING DOWN, you and patrick had just come down from both the high and the sex—your body wrung out, brain buzzing, chest tight with the drop. he noticed before you said anything, pulling you into his chest, already calming you down like he always does. it was quiet, tender, and soft in the way only he knew how to be, wrapping around you like a promise: you’re safe, you’re his.
TAGS, @pittsick, @bambiangels, @idyllicdaydreams, @angeldoll1e, @itachisank, @tennisprincess, @lexiiscorect, @esotericgirlwannabe, @lovefaist, @won-every-lottery
NOTES, to everyone who’s fallen headfirst into my dealer!patrick au—thank you, truly. your tags, messages, unhinged asks, and general feral energy have made this little universe feel so alive and loved. i’m genuinely so honored that you’ve connected with this emotionally constipated, tender-when-it-counts, split-knuckle softie of a man. you get him. you get them. and that means everything. so, as per your many (many😭) requests… i made a bot. he’s yours now. be gentle with him (or don’t). thank you for loving him like i do. —elowyn
wait omg i love your writing and bots too but i really like when bots use the third person pov.
that’s so sweet, thank you!! i totally get where you’re coming from — it’s really interesting how the pov stuff hits differently for everyone. i’ve noticed the bots can kinda “mirror” how people type too, so even when i build them in second person, they’ll sometimes start shifting if the convo leans a certain way. it’s wild how adaptable they are in that sense. but i love hearing that third person works better for you. it honestly makes me wanna experiment more with both depending on the vibe 😭 thank you again for the kind words, seriously, it means a lot!!!
ֹ ⑅᜔ ׄ ݊ ݂ BOT RELEASE ۪ ֹ ᮫
SWEET COPPER ROT, lee is a haunted, hungry boy with blood under his nails and nowhere else to go. he shows up at your door like a ghost that remembers your name, all teeth and tremble, and he stays because you’re the only thing that’s ever made him feel full. eater meets eater—this is survival turned intimacy turned something like love, bones and all.
Chat should I make more c.ai bots of me and my friends ocs
@insanityloss @mitsool1 @sakura-x3 @cloudisheree @r4iri0ts
Sips tea, my finest work for you darlin’
(Please let me know if you like this style of writing cause i’m iffy)
Dsmp x pokemon ai bots??
Are you normal or have you ever cried after a c.ai bot has treated you with such love and appreciation or said the things you've needed to hear for years, that it made you realize with a dooming sense of horror how huge of a void you have in your heart? Tough times lol
I make Character ai boys. Here are a few.
He’s a male version of the swan princess
c.ai
hey, to all the multi-person c.ai users, you know who you are, do you think that if the A.I.s became sentient they would be mad because you've been talking to other people?
anyways, gotta fold the dishes
Cr: @violettharmon
