Post by Kelli <3 on Dec 31, 2006 17:49:45 GMT -5
Name: Kelli
Age: Fourteen
Genres:
MxM//
Abusive Relationship
Anything teen.
Any type of boarding school or such.
Apartment
BrotherxBrother
TeacherxStudent
StepbrotherxStepbrother
StepbrotherxStepsister
Mental Hospital
Any odd pairings
ModelxPhotographer
Vampire (on occasion)
Mpreg
Experience: Four years roleplaying.
Sample:
- - -
Thurr. It's my app. < 3
Age: Fourteen
Genres:
MxM//
Abusive Relationship
Anything teen.
Any type of boarding school or such.
Apartment
BrotherxBrother
TeacherxStudent
StepbrotherxStepbrother
StepbrotherxStepsister
Mental Hospital
Any odd pairings
ModelxPhotographer
Vampire (on occasion)
Mpreg
Experience: Four years roleplaying.
Sample:
Blood Addict
"I don't know how the blood got onto those towels and sheets, Mickey. I've already told you that. Twice." A long, slender finger made its way to the teen's defined face, brushing a lock of deep auburn hair behind a pierced ear as he smirked in the direction of the other male. Instead of dropping immediately back down to the table it had been resting on, his hand remained near his ear, fingers tugging absently on the small silver hoop that pierced the lobe.
"Get the fuck out, Joel! Don't even think about fucking coming back here! I swear to god I'll call the fucking cops!"
The smirk left the nineteen-year-old boy's face as he was literally thrown from the house and onto the gravel by a much bulkier-looking male who appeared to be very angry with him. And he had reason to be. It had been the second set of towels that had mysteriously become stained with what was obviously blood, and the third set of bedsheets. And again, no explanation from Joel, even though the sheets were in his room, and found in the guest bathroom. Yes, Mickey had gotten quite sick of letting Joel, a somewhat close friend, stay in his home and finding things like that in the morning. Not to mention the endless amount of people, mainly other guys, Joel brought back to the house. In the end, their friendship had been ruined and Mickey realized just how fucked up Joel really was.
Joel knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. In fact, he was surprised it had lasted as long as it did, Mickey letting him stay. It was only a matter of time until the other found out about his addiction. Lies and slyness could only get you so far for so long. Again, Joel was without a place to stay. Well, not for long. He had been planning something ever since Mickey first said the words, 'We need to talk', and managed to swipe his wallet with a good deal of cash hidden inside. He was going out tonight. And hopefully, by morning, he'd have a new 'friend' that wouldn't mind a house guest, and possibly, having a bit of fun.
Joel gathered himself, rising onto long, slender legs which made up a good portion of his six feet of height. He wiped the knees of his tight fitting, yet comfortable, dark jeans lightly, managing to remove the small bits of dirt that he'd collected during his fall. He felt for the bulge in the pocket of his jeans, making sure Mickey's wallet was still safely tucked away. Fuck, Mickey could be such a goddamn blind man sometimes...But Joel wasn't complaining. It made it all the more easier to just screw him over.
Lithe fingers reached for the contents of his other pocket, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He pulled one cigarette from the pack, returning it to his pocket before bringing the stick to his defined lips, placing it between them and lightly sucking as he lit the end. His eyes flickered shut as he took a deep drag, inhaling the sweet smoke as he returned his lighter to his pocket. Mmm, damn he needed that. Mickey's voice had gotten to the point where he wanted nothing more than to see that man bleed. Of course, Mickey's blood wouldn't have given him the pleasure he usually craved. He just wanted to see him suffer. He had to select the individual he wanted to enjoy. For pleasure, they had to interest him. Mickey had been nothing more than an naive sack of shit he could outsmart long enough to mooch off of for a couple of weeks.
Joel briskly walked his slim figure down the dark street, well aware that there was a popular club mere walking distance from Mickey's dump. That was one thing he liked about the shack that man called a house. It was quiet tonight, aside from he and Mickey's little brawl a few moments back, there didn't seem to be anything else out to disturb the silence. Joel enjoyed the relaxing setting, the dark, the lack of noise, as he walked down the street, taking another deep drag of his cigarette that was being held loosely between his middle and pointer finger.
Joel lowered the hand holding the cigarette to his side, his other arm wrapped loosely around his waist as his eyes flickered around the light less street. Hmm, he liked the fact that there weren't many bright streetlights around. Maybe they had a cheap, trashy apartment he could afford around here. A smirk that suited Joel quite well graced his lips at the thought. Why would he want to get his own apartment when going home with numerous other toys was so, pleasurable? Mmmh, yes, toys. At a very young age Joel discovered his deep interest for the dark crimson liquid that oozed from his flesh when wounded, or cut. Or more specifically, the blood that others could produce for his hungry eyes.
First it was small animals. Things nobody knew, nor cared about, usually already laying dead on the side of the road. Then, then family cat turned up missing, and Joel's parents began to worry about the foul oder coming from their son's bedroom. When strange red stains started appearing on Joel's clothes, which his mother seemed to notice every time she did the laundry, it was then he began receiving a good deal of attention for his little problem. And a problem it was. When Joel turned thirteen and started getting his younger brother involved with his fetish for watching others bleed, it became too much for his parents to handle. They sent Joel away to live with his uncle, and soon after hitting fifteen Joel was kicked out of the house after having an incident with one of his toys that got a bit too out of control.
Blood on the walls and blood-soaked sheets wasn't a pleasant thing for dear old aunt Sue to wake up to in the early morning, nor was a bleeding teenager gasping for breath on the mattress while her nephew watched with insane interest.
In Joel's own opinion he was fucked up. But, he dealt with it by controlling himself a good portion of the time. He wasn't running around slashing every one's throats with a pocket knife, now was he? No. He hit the clubs at night and made sure to surround himself with drunks and druggies, people who weren't going anywhere with their lives. People who wouldn't be missed if something just so happened to, slip.
No, he was quite content with the way things were right now.
Even if he was considered a fucked-up freak.
He continued walking down the street, smirking to himself as he wondered if there would be a good, selection, out tonight. Even if not, a few good shots of tequila could make any ugly fuck look like he came from heaven.
It was then that the other figure standing in the street caught Joel's eye. Pale green irises froze immediately, focusing on the simple shadow in the street.
He stopped Joel.
He looked interesting.
He looked like the kind of person Joel took more than just a shallow interest in.
"I don't know how the blood got onto those towels and sheets, Mickey. I've already told you that. Twice." A long, slender finger made its way to the teen's defined face, brushing a lock of deep auburn hair behind a pierced ear as he smirked in the direction of the other male. Instead of dropping immediately back down to the table it had been resting on, his hand remained near his ear, fingers tugging absently on the small silver hoop that pierced the lobe.
"Get the fuck out, Joel! Don't even think about fucking coming back here! I swear to god I'll call the fucking cops!"
The smirk left the nineteen-year-old boy's face as he was literally thrown from the house and onto the gravel by a much bulkier-looking male who appeared to be very angry with him. And he had reason to be. It had been the second set of towels that had mysteriously become stained with what was obviously blood, and the third set of bedsheets. And again, no explanation from Joel, even though the sheets were in his room, and found in the guest bathroom. Yes, Mickey had gotten quite sick of letting Joel, a somewhat close friend, stay in his home and finding things like that in the morning. Not to mention the endless amount of people, mainly other guys, Joel brought back to the house. In the end, their friendship had been ruined and Mickey realized just how fucked up Joel really was.
Joel knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. In fact, he was surprised it had lasted as long as it did, Mickey letting him stay. It was only a matter of time until the other found out about his addiction. Lies and slyness could only get you so far for so long. Again, Joel was without a place to stay. Well, not for long. He had been planning something ever since Mickey first said the words, 'We need to talk', and managed to swipe his wallet with a good deal of cash hidden inside. He was going out tonight. And hopefully, by morning, he'd have a new 'friend' that wouldn't mind a house guest, and possibly, having a bit of fun.
Joel gathered himself, rising onto long, slender legs which made up a good portion of his six feet of height. He wiped the knees of his tight fitting, yet comfortable, dark jeans lightly, managing to remove the small bits of dirt that he'd collected during his fall. He felt for the bulge in the pocket of his jeans, making sure Mickey's wallet was still safely tucked away. Fuck, Mickey could be such a goddamn blind man sometimes...But Joel wasn't complaining. It made it all the more easier to just screw him over.
Lithe fingers reached for the contents of his other pocket, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He pulled one cigarette from the pack, returning it to his pocket before bringing the stick to his defined lips, placing it between them and lightly sucking as he lit the end. His eyes flickered shut as he took a deep drag, inhaling the sweet smoke as he returned his lighter to his pocket. Mmm, damn he needed that. Mickey's voice had gotten to the point where he wanted nothing more than to see that man bleed. Of course, Mickey's blood wouldn't have given him the pleasure he usually craved. He just wanted to see him suffer. He had to select the individual he wanted to enjoy. For pleasure, they had to interest him. Mickey had been nothing more than an naive sack of shit he could outsmart long enough to mooch off of for a couple of weeks.
Joel briskly walked his slim figure down the dark street, well aware that there was a popular club mere walking distance from Mickey's dump. That was one thing he liked about the shack that man called a house. It was quiet tonight, aside from he and Mickey's little brawl a few moments back, there didn't seem to be anything else out to disturb the silence. Joel enjoyed the relaxing setting, the dark, the lack of noise, as he walked down the street, taking another deep drag of his cigarette that was being held loosely between his middle and pointer finger.
Joel lowered the hand holding the cigarette to his side, his other arm wrapped loosely around his waist as his eyes flickered around the light less street. Hmm, he liked the fact that there weren't many bright streetlights around. Maybe they had a cheap, trashy apartment he could afford around here. A smirk that suited Joel quite well graced his lips at the thought. Why would he want to get his own apartment when going home with numerous other toys was so, pleasurable? Mmmh, yes, toys. At a very young age Joel discovered his deep interest for the dark crimson liquid that oozed from his flesh when wounded, or cut. Or more specifically, the blood that others could produce for his hungry eyes.
First it was small animals. Things nobody knew, nor cared about, usually already laying dead on the side of the road. Then, then family cat turned up missing, and Joel's parents began to worry about the foul oder coming from their son's bedroom. When strange red stains started appearing on Joel's clothes, which his mother seemed to notice every time she did the laundry, it was then he began receiving a good deal of attention for his little problem. And a problem it was. When Joel turned thirteen and started getting his younger brother involved with his fetish for watching others bleed, it became too much for his parents to handle. They sent Joel away to live with his uncle, and soon after hitting fifteen Joel was kicked out of the house after having an incident with one of his toys that got a bit too out of control.
Blood on the walls and blood-soaked sheets wasn't a pleasant thing for dear old aunt Sue to wake up to in the early morning, nor was a bleeding teenager gasping for breath on the mattress while her nephew watched with insane interest.
In Joel's own opinion he was fucked up. But, he dealt with it by controlling himself a good portion of the time. He wasn't running around slashing every one's throats with a pocket knife, now was he? No. He hit the clubs at night and made sure to surround himself with drunks and druggies, people who weren't going anywhere with their lives. People who wouldn't be missed if something just so happened to, slip.
No, he was quite content with the way things were right now.
Even if he was considered a fucked-up freak.
He continued walking down the street, smirking to himself as he wondered if there would be a good, selection, out tonight. Even if not, a few good shots of tequila could make any ugly fuck look like he came from heaven.
It was then that the other figure standing in the street caught Joel's eye. Pale green irises froze immediately, focusing on the simple shadow in the street.
He stopped Joel.
He looked interesting.
He looked like the kind of person Joel took more than just a shallow interest in.
- - -
Thurr. It's my app. < 3
