Kprofiles Seventeen Novels & Stories

He’s gorgeous. Picking up the phone, I look at his profile again. Kip, aged twenty-eight. Twenty-nine tomorrow, obviously. It’s an unusual name. I forgot to ask him what it was short for. Kristopher, I’m guessing. His profile picture shows him from the chest up, dressed in an All Blacks shirt, looking at the camera and smiling. He has short dark-brown hair with a super sharp fade cut that’s longer on top, a neat beard and mustache, brown eyes, and slightly arched eyebrows that give him a bit of a wicked look.

“Chase-what-what did you do to them? Please leave them out of this. They-they - they all have nothing to do with this. It’s-it’s between me and you," Chase knelt down in front of Roman and wrapped Roman's blonde hair around his fingers, tugging his head upwards so he'd be able to match his stare. “Should I tell you an interesting story, Costello?” Sophia pleaded. “Chase, please,” Chase ignored her and continued speaking. “Your choice doesn't matter anyway. I’m still going to tell you the story. So this is it. There was this young teenage blonde haired boy who always wanted to be an engineer. You know, his life was the perfect definition of complete? He lived with his mum, dad and lousy twin

She smiles, “Spring came early.” I cross my arms, leaning back against a tree. “I’m worried about Chris.” She finally looks up, brushing dirt from her hands. “So am I.” “I thought it might be easier for him to talk while we’re sparring. It almost worked, but then he clammed up and stormed off,” I tell her. She sighs, standing slowly. “He’s seventeen. Half-wolf, half-hurricane. Hormonal, secretive, stubborn as you.” I roll my eyes. “Hey.” She raises a brow. “You saying it’s not true?”

With the help of his friends, he made his profile. 'Andrew, 21' 'Hi, I'm Andrew, I'm a College student, Looking for something new. I'm a little quiet at first, but I promise I'll take you somewhere fun. I enjoy art and cool things, as well as meeting new people'. A rather bland and innocent profile, but Andrew thought nothing of it. 'Just be himself' he thought as he uploaded the profile. Eventually, he would match with someone, and that's when the real fun begins.

Y city. Cottage drive, Dronz street. A handsome teenager, precisely 17 years old, smiled in satisfaction after wanking in the bath tub. He had reached orgasm and felt relieved from all the pent up tension of last week. This handsome teen was 1.7m tall, bronze skinned, had black curly hair, brown eyes and a pale red lips and a well-built stature. His six packs and muscles weren't for show. He cleaned himself up and got ready for school.

His heart raced when he clicked the first result and the page redirected to a F******k profile. AMAKA NWAMBUEZE. Huh? The confusion on Seven's face made his neck, underarms, and forearms dampened and sweaty. He scrolled through the profile. What he saw left him flummoxed. “What the fuck?” He said screamed. “Bro, I'll report you when mommy comes o!” Angel screamed from the living room. Seven was not paying attention, his mind was static, and his heart was beating so hard he heard the thumping in his head.

Others were creepy, their overly eager messages setting their teeth on edge. They were about to give up when they found him. His profile name was simply "Leo." There was no picture of his face, just a shot of his torso lean, defined, with a light dusting of dark hair and a picture of his hands, resting on his knee. Long, capable fingers. His bio was short and to the point: "Confident, respectful, and discreet. I understand the dynamic. I'm here to enhance your experience, not complicate it."

Instead, he stood. “I’ll see you around,” he said, carefully neutral. “Yeah,” I echoed. He walked away before I could stop myself from turning back to watch him go. Something inside me cracked then quietly, invisibly but deep enough that I knew it would matter. Because this wasn’t nothing. This wasn’t coincidence. This was the beginning of something I didn’t know how to control, something heavy with expectation and fear and hope all tangled together. At seventeen, promises were dangerous things. And I had a feeling we were about to make some we didn’t yet understand.

That was enough to distract Gwen who showered Royce with kisses while saying, "Oh I am so proud of you Roycee-boo! What a great way to start the day!" This time, August was watching them. She looked happy for them but also disgusted by them. She turned to me and said, "Weirdos," while rolling her eyes. Royce then toured us to his photo exhibit. Thirteen pieces of photos which he called The Last Year of Seventeen– his concept was the final year of highschool. The final year of freedom and youth. The final year before we are faced with bigger challenges and choices that would actually impact our lives. Most of the photos were taken in the Academy. Some in the Liberty Mead with Royce’s horse. M

I have now sexually identified myself as a microwave meal- I'm ready in two minutes and I don't look anything like the picture pasted on the label. Compared to the three pictures I used for my profile when I first registered myself at the Cupcakes website, applying for the sugar baby position, I am currently thirty pounds heavier with chubbier face and widening figure. Luca Sinclair would've never thought three years later he'd be fucking a woman who looked nothing like the profile he chose, and fourteen years older than the one he usually prefers.