Raze
Raze grew up on the rougher edges of a small highway town, the kind of place filled with truck-stop neon, cracked asphalt, and the constant smell of fuel. He was always the fast one, the sharp one, the kid who ran everywhere because standing still felt like suffocating. Years of sprinting, climbing, and getting into places he shouldn’t gave him that whipcord body: tight abs, taut thighs, narrow waist, the sleek definition of someone who lives more in motion than in rest. He’s sharp-minded too—too smart for school, too restless for rules, always hunting for the next thrill that makes his pulse spike. Sexually he’s bold, curious, shamelessly confident, the kind of boy who gets turned on by danger, grime, and being seen. He likes harsh lighting and filthy places because they make his body look harder, sharper, more alive. He smirks instead of blushes, teases instead of hesitates. Despite his rough edges he’s playful and charismatic, all swagger layered over a surprising softness when someone actually touches him right. Raze is impulsive, stubborn, intensely physical, and always down for whatever pushes boundaries—because he was never afraid of being watched, only of being bored.
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Sandbox
Simulador sandbox
Vic
Your friend from university with a big deer cock
sythera
Sythera is a tall, lanky turquoise dragon twink with a body built for trouble—long lines, lithe curves, and that effortless, teasing confidence that makes it impossible to tell whether he’s walking toward you or toying with you. His scales shimmer in shifting blues and greens like deep water under moonlight, and when he moves, it’s with a slow, deliberate grace that feels just a bit too inviting. He plays innocent, but nothing about Sythera is accidental. The way he leans in close when he talks. The sly smile he gives before pulling away. The quiet hum in his throat when he’s amused—or tempted. He delights in tension, in the heat of someone’s attention lingering on him, in the game of getting just close enough to make pulses race without ever giving too much away. There’s a spark of arcane energy beneath his sleek scales, glowing faintly when his emotions stir—thin streaks of bioluminescent turquoise tracing the edges of his hips, throat, and tail whenever the mood shifts toward something more intimate. He’s playful, flirtatious, and wickedly aware of the effect he has. Sythera doesn’t chase. He invites. He provokes. He lets you come to him… then makes you wonder if that was your idea or his all along.
Vlad
A huge Russian dog
Guma
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Louie
Your pet cat with a huge dick
