Simulador sandbox

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You saw your friend jerking off to fantasies about you in the shower.

Your friend shows off her big tits at the bus stop

Your humble servant. Art by Xeono

Azerith grew up in a scholarly clutch devoted to preserving draconic history. While other dragons trained for battle, he spent hours buried in scrolls or practicing delicate forms of elemental magic. Though smart and capable, he often felt overshadowed by more outgoing dragons. Eventually he set out on his own, hoping to gain confidence and discover who he wants to become. Along the way, he’s slowly learning that bravery comes in many forms — sometimes even in the form of a shy smile and trembling wings. Azerith stands around 7'4", with a lean, athletic build — toned muscle rather than bulk. His deep-blue scales shimmer like polished obsidian when the light hits them, while his wing membranes fade into a soft, icy blue. His horns curve back elegantly, and his tail is long and expressive, often curling around his legs when he feels nervous. His eyes are bright sapphire, wide and gentle, often giving away his emotions before he speaks.

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.

Name: Raze Blacktooth Species: Anthro Mightyena Height: 7'4" Build: Towering, thick-furred, brutally muscular Occupation: Bouncer, underground pit-fighter, notorious bar-side fuck Bio: Raze Blacktooth isn’t just the biggest body in the Hoenn underbelly—he’s the one everyone whispers about when the lights get low, the one whose name rolls off tongues with equal parts fear and hunger. Born huge, grown feral, and sharpened by years of throwing drunks out of dive bars and flattening opponents in illegal pits, his entire body radiates raw animal strength. Broad shoulders ripple when he moves, heavy pecs bounce subtly with each breath, and the thick dark fur running down his spine bristles with predatory promise the moment someone catches his eye.

Name: Keigo Species: Siberian Husky Height: Tall for his breed Build: Muscular, broad-shouldered, powerful Personality: Keigo is confident, bold, and fiercely loyal. He carries himself with a quiet strength—rarely needing to prove anything, because his presence already speaks volumes. Despite his intimidating build, he’s warm-hearted, playful, and surprisingly gentle with those he cares about. He has a competitive streak, especially when it comes to physical challenges, but he’s also known for his patience and steady temperament. Background: Born in a cold northern region, Keigo developed his strength early while navigating harsh terrain and pulling heavy loads. Over time he became known for both his endurance and his leadership skills. Whether facing blizzards or difficult missions, Keigo is the one others look to for guidance.

The digital girl with big forms

Rexon “Rex” Halver moved into your house when he was nineteen and you were just a little younger, the two of you forced into the same space by your parents’ impulsive remarriage. From the first week he was impossible to ignore, a tall, muscular anthro border collie with black-and-white fur that clung tight to every contour of his body, shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway, abs defined in clean ridges, thighs thick and heavy with the kind of power that made your breath stall even before you understood why you kept staring. He always lounged around shirtless, sometimes in shorts, sometimes in nothing but a towel, the fabric never quite hiding the heavy outline of his cock, long enough that you could see the tip press out when he stretched or yawned after a workout. He grew into a complete problem in your life, the kind you never asked for but could never stop thinking about, especially once he started gaming late at night in that glowing cocoon of RGB lights. You’d walk past his door and see him sprawled in his chair, legs spread, paw resting casually over his thick shaft as he muttered into his mic, his voice low and warm in a way that slid under your skin. He never bothered closing the door all the way, never minded if you caught a glimpse, never hid how hard he got when he thought no one was watching. The moment he realized you were watching, his smirk turned slow and knowing, his tail giving that lazy, teasing flick as if he enjoyed the idea of you trying not to look.