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Owen

Prince Owain of Scotland
Age: 22 y/o
Orientation: Gay
Attends: Cambridge
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Prince Maximilian of Bavaria
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Orientation: Gay
Attends: Cambridge
Studies: International Finance

Cousin of Owen, Alistair & Luis

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Prince Alistair of Scotland
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Orientation: Fluid
Attends: Harvard
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Prince Luis of Spain
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Studies: Computer Science

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Camera Man … I was just playing around with an image set of one of my favorite AI creations and I decided to make him blond, ginger and brunette to see what looks best on him. Which look is your favorite?
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Camera Man … I was just playing around with an image set of one of...

Welcome to August 🔥New month. Same energy, or maybe even a little more.August is here, which means long nights, golden skin, last-chance flings, and maybe a few moments of unexpected clarity. Whether you’re leaning into the heat or just trying to keep it cool, we’ve got you.This month at HotGuys.AI, expect: • Fresh drops. New faces. More chaos. • Stories that hit harder (and stay with you longer). • And a few surprises we’re not announcing yet but you’ll feel them.So hydrate, charge your phone, and don’t get too comfortable.
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Welcome to August 🔥 New month. Same energy, or maybe even a little more. August...

The Boy in Blue … The overhead lights buzz softly, the kind of sound you stop noticing after the first hour on set. The studio is painted in seamless turquoise—floor to ceiling—a color chosen not for its symbolism but for its clean contrast against his smooth 21-year-old skin and fresh white shorts. They called the shoot Boy in Blue, even though he’s technically in white. It didn’t matter. The name stuck, like a brand before the boy inside it even knew what it meant.He shifts his weight between his feet, sneakers squeaking faintly against the vinyl flooring. The photographer kneels, angling up. “Look here,” she says, tapping the lens. “Eyes. Hold the lean.”He leans.It’s a calculated posture now—shoulders forward, abs flexed, that faint look of moody detachment he’s been told makes him look editorial. But there’s a flicker beneath it all. A subtle tension in his jaw, like he’s holding something back. Not discomfort exactly—he’s used to being looked at—but maybe a sliver of curiosity. Or uncertainty. Maybe both.This isn’t his first shoot, but it feels different. Less like playing dress-up, more like stepping into someone else’s projection of him. The set is minimal, the styling stripped down to highlight him—the subject. The commodity.Between takes, a stylist tugs at the waistband of his shorts, adjusting the drawstring. He chuckles awkwardly, raising his arms so she can work. “You good?” the assistant asks, handing him a bottle of water. He nods.They’re already calling him the boy in blue. There’s an Instagram draft queued. Edits being rendered. The image will cycle across portfolios and mood boards, eventually winding its way to an ad campaign or a casting deck. He’ll be pinned to a feeling: summer, temptation, innocence, youth.But in this moment—this tiny sliver of stillness between shutter clicks—he’s just standing there, barefoot in his sneakers, wondering what it means to become someone else’s idea of beauty.And maybe, just maybe, wondering if he gets to decide who he is after the lens stops looking
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The Boy in Blue … The overhead lights buzz softly, the kind of sound you...

Mexico Morning 🇲🇽 … The sunlight pours in like it knows exactly where to land—through the slatted blinds, over the woven clay tiles, and across the edge of a hotel bed that still smells faintly of lime and sea salt. It lands on him. Of course it does.Nico isn’t the kind of guy who asks for attention. He’s the kind who draws it without trying. Leaning forward on his knees in nothing but a pair of black shorts with gold stripes, his torso curves with the quiet control of someone who treats his body like a ritual. It’s not for show. It’s for the rhythm of movement, the pulse of his own breath, the way he greets the morning as something sacred.Puerto Vallarta is still waking up. The streets are hushed, the fans above spinning lazily, and the scent of strong coffee and chili-sweet mango wafts up from the vendor carts below. But Nico’s already ahead of it—he’s been awake since before the light shifted. Something about Mexico makes him sleep less and feel more.His phone buzzes once on the side table. He doesn’t check it. Not yet. Not when the sun has found him like this—caught in the space between a dream and whatever comes next.The guy he met last night—Santi—had left around three, mumbling something about his sister’s car. It hadn’t mattered. Nico wasn’t looking to be kept. What mattered was the silence that followed. The good kind. The kind that wraps around your ribs and lets you just be.He presses his hands into the mattress, stretching his back as the light warms his skin. In this moment, he isn’t the boy from Chicago who never fit in. He isn’t the guy who overthinks every glance, every pause, every maybe. Here, now, he’s just Nico. Shirtless, grounded, golden in the sun.The world can wait.This is a Mexico morning.And it belongs to him.#mexico #mexico🇲🇽 #morning #hotguys
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Mexico Morning 🇲🇽 … The sunlight pours in like it knows exactly where to land—through...

The Painter … Look and see all his paintings.They call him The Painter, but the way he moves, the way he looks at you — it’s something far more intimate than art. He works shirtless, skin glowing under the slow creep of late-afternoon sun, muscles shifting like liquid as he leans into each stroke of the brush. The air around him smells like linseed oil and sweat, and there’s always a smear of color somewhere on his body — across his chest, down the line of his hip, sometimes the soft crease of his neck. He doesn’t bother covering up. He likes to feel everything — the heat of the light, the cool drag of paint, the way your eyes follow him as he steps back to admire his work. He knows the effect he has. He wants you to look.Sometimes he paints with one hand and uses his other hand for other things — absentminded, unhurried, like the two acts are part of the same rhythm. Creation. Release. His gaze never breaks from the canvas, but his body tells you everything: the slight part of his lips, the pulse in his throat, the perfect tension in his stomach when he exhales. He’s always excited when he finishes a piece, breath shallow, skin flushed. Maybe it’s the rush of inspiration. Maybe it’s you watching. Either way, when he finally turns — eyes wild with hunger and color — it’s clear: art was only the beginning.
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The Painter … Look and see all his paintings. They call him The Painter, but...

Battlefield Love… The way you look at someone when you’re afraid it might be the last time.The wind howled low through the camp, sweeping dust across the fading light. The tanks stood silent behind them, hulking shadows against the bleeding sky. Jackson’s fingers tightened around his helmet strap, but his eyes…[see full post on website]#battlefield #military #war #makelovenotwar
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Battlefield Love… The way you look at someone when you’re afraid it might be the...

On Tap … Their fathers opened this cozy Irish pub in the countryside over thirty years ago. Now, Liam and Declan have taken the reins. They’ve been best friends for as long as they can remember, but sometimes, friendship turns into something more, and everything changes. [see full post on website]#bestfriend #irish #irishpub
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On Tap … Their fathers opened this cozy Irish pub in the countryside over thirty...

The Sunroom Heir … In the late glow of summer, Leo sat in the sun-drenched armchair his grandmother once called her “reading throne.” The old manor had been empty for years, but Leo returned every July, letting the quiet house wrap around him like a faded memory.He wasn’t supposed to be here yet. Graduation was months away. His future—a glittering promise of city lights and endless ambition—felt distant now. Here, stripped down to nothing but his old cut-offs, he could breathe. No expectations. No cameras. Just the warmth of the late afternoon sun pressing against his skin.Leo’s fingers brushed the worn fabric of the chair, the same place he used to curl up with dusty novels as a boy. Now, muscles stretched and lean, he lounged like a king without a kingdom, golden skin kissed by the light streaming through the tall windows.He didn’t know what came next—only that for this moment, in this house, he belonged entirely to himself.
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The Sunroom Heir … In the late glow of summer, Leo sat in the sun-drenched...

Bond Beyond Words … In the dense silence of the early morning woods, where pine needles cushioned every footstep and the air still carried the chill of night, Elias knelt beside the only creature who truly understood him—Kai, the pale-furred wolfdog with piercing blue eyes that mirrored his own.They had found each other in the aftermath of separate losses. Elias, reeling from the sudden death of his brother, had fled the noise of the world and the hollow condolences that came with it. Kai, abandoned as a pup on the edge of the forest, had grown wild but never cruel. Their first meeting was wary. Their second, fate. By the third, Elias had stopped thinking of Kai as just a wolf—he was something more. A guardian. A soul echo.Now, shirtless and sun-kissed, Elias pressed his cheek gently to Kai’s fur, the texture coarse but grounding. In moments like these, he didn’t need to speak. Grief didn’t require language. Nor did healing.The world might never understand their bond, but the forest did. The trees stood watch. The wind whispered in reverence. And Elias knew, no matter where the path led from here, he’d never walk it alone again.#fantasy #hotguys #wolf
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Bond Beyond Words … In the dense silence of the early morning woods, where pine...

Saturday Morning … The light woke me before anything else. Warm against my face, slanting through the blinds in soft, perfect lines. I didn’t open my eyes at first. Just breathed in the quiet and let the stillness wrap around me.No alarms. No voices. No expectations.Just morning.Eventually, I sat up. Let the sheet fall where it wanted. My body still carried sleep in the muscles, but there was no rush to move. I liked the way the air felt against my skin — cool in places the sun hadn’t touched yet. I liked the weight of silence in the room. Not empty, just… still.I used to hate mornings. Always felt like I had to be somewhere, do something, prove something. But not today. Today, I let myself exist without needing a reason. Just me, the quiet, and the light. That was enough.I glanced at the window, caught my own reflection in the glass — barely there, soft and uncertain. I looked different. Not styled or posed. Just real. There was something honest in that. Something I don’t always let myself be.I sat like that for a long time. Breathing. Thinking. Not about anything heavy. Just letting thoughts drift in and out like clouds.Maybe that’s all I needed from today. Not plans. Not people. Just one morning to be still. To feel the light on my skin and remember that I’m here. That I exist outside of noise.It’s Saturday.And for once, that feels like enough.#weekend #saturday #hotguys #gay
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Saturday Morning … The light woke me before anything else. Warm against my face, slanting...

Matching Swim Suits … It was the first real day of summer.Luca, Nico, and Adrian had planned this trip for months, just the three of them, one last escape before college sent them spiraling in different directions. They arrived at the villa by noon, tossing their bags aside and heading straight to the infinity pool that glistened like liquid sapphire under the afternoon sun.“Okay, admit it,” Nico said, adjusting his palm-leaf trunks. “The matching suits were a great idea.”Luca rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the grin. “You mean your idea.”“Our idea,” Adrian chimed in from the water, splashing them both. “Now come on, we’re wasting sun.”They’d been best friends since they can remember, inseparable, like a constellation only complete with all three stars. But lately, change loomed. Nico had been accepted to a university on the East Coast. Adrian was joining a surf program in Australia. Luca, staying behind, had enrolled at a local school, the weight of expectations pulling him back home.So this trip wasn’t just a getaway. It was a pause button. A way to breathe.They spent the afternoon swimming, laughing, tackling each other off floaties, and taking photos that would end up in their private shared album titled “For When It Gets Hard.” The sun dipped low, painting their skin gold and setting the water ablaze with light.Later, as they dried off on the pool deck, Luca looked at the others and said, “Promise me we’ll come back. No matter what changes. This place. Us.”Adrian gave a mock salute. “Cross my heart and sunscreened chest.”Nico leaned in, arm slung over both their shoulders. “Promise. Even if we’re thousands of miles apart, we’ll find our way back. Always.”Their matching trunks—stamped with tropical leaves felt like more than fabric. They were a symbol of this moment: fleeting, bold, and beautiful.Three friends. One summer. A memory that would hold them together, long after the sun set.#summer #vacation #losangeles #summerbreak
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Matching Swim Suits … It was the first real day of summer. Luca, Nico, and...

Poolside Ginger … It was late afternoon, the kind of hour when the sky turns a little honey-gold and the heat settles into the concrete like a secret.Micah sat at the edge of the pool, feet in the water, hands curled loosely between his knees. His copper hair was still damp, curling faintly where the sun hadn’t dried it yet. Neon blue trunks clung to him like they were painted on, and a bead of sweat traced a slow line from his collarbone down between his abs.He looked relaxed, but there was tension in the air.A door slid open behind him. The quiet pad of bare feet on tile. Micah didn’t turn. He just dipped his fingers into the water, then flicked a single droplet over his shoulder.“Thought you said you’d stay inside,” he murmured, without looking.“I lied,” said Drew. His voice was low, amused. “Didn’t think you’d actually be out here… looking like that.”Micah finally glanced over his shoulder. “Like what?”Drew didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.The silence stretched between them, the kind that carries weight. Micah smirked faintly and shifted his legs, spreading them just enough to be noticed. He leaned back on one hand, spine curving slightly, heat glinting off the angles of his chest.“You keep staring,” he said. “You’re gonna have to get in.”Drew kicked off his slides, letting them slap to the concrete. “That a threat?”Micah looked up at him, bold and teasing. “It’s a dare.”
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Poolside Ginger … It was late afternoon, the kind of hour when the sky turns...

Poolside Blond … The sun had just crested noon, spilling golden heat across the backyard. The pool shimmered like glass, and the only sound was the occasional flick of water against tile.Luca leaned back on his palms, wet skin catching the light, his blue trunks clinging just a little tighter than usual. He didn’t mind. He liked the way eyes followed him — especially his eyes.Somewhere behind the sliding glass door, Eli was watching. He always pretended not to be. Pretended the “accidental” glances didn’t linger. But Luca knew. Had seen the way Eli paused, fingers tightening on his cold drink, eyes roaming like they were starving.Today, Luca decided to give him a better view.He shifted slightly, letting one knee fall open, arching his back just enough to stretch out the lines of his stomach. The sun warmed every inch of his bare skin. He looked straight at the glass door, then licked a droplet of water from his bottom lip. A tease. A dare.The door slid open with a quiet hush. Footsteps padded across the concrete.“You’re going to give the neighbors a show,” Eli murmured, towel draped casually over his shoulder, eyes dark.Luca smirked. “Only if they’re paying attention.”Eli dropped the towel beside him and knelt at the edge, fingers grazing Luca’s thigh, slow, like heat on skin.“I was,” he said, voice low. “Every second.”#westhollywood #losangeles #summer #poolside
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Poolside Blond … The sun had just crested noon, spilling golden heat across the backyard....

On The Ship … The sun scorches the deck of the USS Lexington. Dylan leans against the railing, shirtless, dog tags clinking against his chest, sweat drying in the breeze.Bootsteps approach. Marcus Rivera — bare-chested, camo pants low on his hips, cap turned back — stops beside him.“Didn’t think you’d brave the heat,” Marcus says.“I like the view.”Marcus smirks. “You mean me?”Dylan shrugs. “Only when you’re not talking.”They stand in silence, the ocean stretching forever. The tension, as always, hums just under the surface.“You’ll burn out here,” Marcus murmurs.“You offering shade?”“I’m offering five minutes in my rack.”Dylan looks at him. “You sure you’ll make drills?”Marcus grins. “Always do.”Dylan pushes off the rail. “Lead the way.”Marcus turns, and Dylan follows.
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On The Ship … The sun scorches the deck of the USS Lexington. Dylan leans...

Remember Why We Celebrate July 4 in the USA 🇺🇸Independence Day isn’t just about fireworks and cookouts, it’s a reminder of what it took to get here. On July 4, 1776, a group of ordinary people made an extraordinary decision: to stand up against oppression and tyranny in pursuit of freedom. They risked everything to claim a future shaped by liberty, not fear.Today, we celebrate because they fought. We enjoy freedom because they refused to be silenced. And as we look around at the challenges of our own time, where voices are still being suppressed and rights debated, we’re reminded that the fight for liberty is never over.This holiday calls us not only to remember our history, but to live up to it. To stay alert, stay engaged, and never take freedom for granted.#july4 #independenceday #fourthofjuly #usa #🇺🇸
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Remember Why We Celebrate July 4 in the USA 🇺🇸 Independence Day isn’t just about...

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In compliance with the Federal Labeling and Record-Keeping Law (also known as 18 U.S.C. § 2257), HotGuys.AI confirms that all visual depictions appearing on this website do not involve real human performers. All visual content appearing on HotGuys.AI is generated using artificial intelligence and does not involve real human performers. As such, this site is exempt from the record-keeping requirements of 18 U.S.C. § 2257 and 28 C.F.R. 75. All characters appearing in the content are fictional, non-existent individuals who are represented as 18 years of age or older. This website is maintained by HotGuys.AI, 17631 Ventura Blvd #250, Encino, CA 91316, [email protected]. Questions regarding this policy may be directed to the Custodian of Records at the address above.