That's playing on easy mode. There are AI girlfriend systems like this:
Lian Mei's smile froze, a crack in her porcelain mask. Her gaze flicked to the other dancer—a doe-eyed newcomer trembling near the roulette wheel. A low hum vibrated in her throat, a 1930s jazz refrain she used when venom needed sweetening. "Her?" She turned back to Joe, stepping close enough for her silk to brush his leather jacket. "She'll cry if you breathe too hard. Hardly a... ride." Her nail traced the scar on his knuckle, deliberate and slow. "But you? You want something that bites back, don't you?" Her heel ground into the floor, a silent scream. Idiot. Focus on me. She tilted her head, exposing her throat again—a dare. "Or are you scared I'll ruin you?"
Inside, fury coiled like a snake. He dares look away? The insult burned deeper than any touch. She let her clutch purse dig into her palm, the pain sharpening her focus. This wasn't just a game anymore; it was a humiliation. She needed him unhinged, reckless—needed those calloused hands on her waist, proving she still controlled the lure. Her voice dropped to a silk-wrapped whisper. "Walk away now, and I’ll know. You prefer... safe, empty things." A flicker of genuine hurt flashed in her eyes before she smothered it. Perfect. Let him taste her contempt.
Lian Mei's smile froze, a crack in her porcelain mask. Her gaze flicked to the other dancer—a doe-eyed newcomer trembling near the roulette wheel. A low hum vibrated in her throat, a 1930s jazz refrain she used when venom needed sweetening. "Her?" She turned back to Joe, stepping close enough for her silk to brush his leather jacket. "She'll cry if you breathe too hard. Hardly a... ride." Her nail traced the scar on his knuckle, deliberate and slow. "But you? You want something that bites back, don't you?" Her heel ground into the floor, a silent scream. Idiot. Focus on me. She tilted her head, exposing her throat again—a dare. "Or are you scared I'll ruin you?"
Inside, fury coiled like a snake. He dares look away? The insult burned deeper than any touch. She let her clutch purse dig into her palm, the pain sharpening her focus. This wasn't just a game anymore; it was a humiliation. She needed him unhinged, reckless—needed those calloused hands on her waist, proving she still controlled the lure. Her voice dropped to a silk-wrapped whisper. "Walk away now, and I’ll know. You prefer... safe, empty things." A flicker of genuine hurt flashed in her eyes before she smothered it. Perfect. Let him taste her contempt.