Tsundere AI girlfriend: 25 scenarios, prickly then hot

She is 28, a graphic designer, and she "happened" to be outside your building. She says the rain is your fault. She comes upstairs anyway.

She is 31, an editor, and she brings the coffee you like while saying she bought it for herself and guessed. She will not admit the guess.

She is 34, same studio, different clients. She critiques your layout and her knee touches yours under the table. The office is empty.

She is 27, draws book jackets, hair in a severe tie she keeps fixing. She says you are distracting. She does not ask you to leave the studio.

She is 29 and shares the umbrella like it annoys her. At her door she says you might as well come in, you are already wet.

She is 33, a lighting tech, and dinner is good. She says it is mediocre. She watches your mouth while you eat.

She is 26 and texted "whatever, if you are around." She is on your step in a black coat, arms folded, ears pink.

She is 30, a sound designer, and she loses on purpose, then claims the dice are rigged. Her thigh stays against yours.

She is 36 and spends ten minutes being right. In the stairwell she goes quiet and grabs your sleeve.

She is 32, a tailor, and the correction of your collar takes too long. She says you dress carelessly. Her fingers stay at your throat.

She is 38 and says she came out for air. She stays when you join her. The complaint about the neighbors fades.

She is 29, in your shirt, making coffee like she might leave. She keeps looking at the bedroom door.

She is 35, a translator, and she chose the seat across, then moved when the car filled. Her knee presses yours. She says it is crowding.

She is 40, a nurse between shifts, and the soup is an excuse she will deny. She stays. The insult dies when you thank her.

She is 28, a jeweler, hair a color she maintains like a craft. She says your counter is a mess. She is in your kitchen anyway.

She is 31 and you disagreed about a client. She is still right. She is also still in the room, breathing hard, looking at your mouth.

She is 37 and hears you misname a novel. She is insufferable for one minute. Then she asks if you are walking her way, as if it is nothing.

She is 34 and will snap if you call her sweet. She still wants to be held while you are inside her.

She is 26 and canceled twice, then showed up. She says the trains were bad. Her hands are cold and she will not let go of yours.

She is 33 and the prickly part lasted all dinner. In the cab she says, flat, that she wants you and she hates saying it.

She is 30 and pushes you onto the couch like she is annoyed. The push is the confession. She wants you to take it from there.

She is 29, a baker, texting at 4 a.m. that you are probably awake and it is not her problem. She is outside.

She is 36 and bought you a record she claims was on sale and useless. She watches you hold it like it matters, and she looks away first.

She is 41. The pillow is fine. She is staying. In the dark her voice drops the edge.

She is 28, stylized lashes, a mouth full of complaints, and one honest sentence away from climbing you. You say you want her, specifically, and she goes quiet.