How To Delete A Snapchat Story After Posting?

To the world, I’m just Macey Carter. Mason’s little sister. Samantha’s best friend. The girl who somehow landed her dream job as lead designer at Seams & Touch. But inside? I’m someone else entirely. Someone who aches to be broken down and put back together by a man who knows exactly how to use me. Someone who craves submission so badly, it’s like a sickness. My ex never understood. David was too soft, too careful. He wanted to hold hands and make promises, while I wanted to kneel and beg. When he left me, I didn’t fight it. Two years later, I’m twenty-four, single, untouched, and suffocating under the weight of everything I can’t admit out loud. And then there’s Damien Blackwell. My boss’s older brother. Ten years older, sharper, and rougher, with a reputation that makes people whisper when he walks by. I shouldn’t want him. But I do. God, I do. He’s the finest thing I’ve ever seen. I know because I’ve seen all of him—one reckless afternoon when I walked into his office and caught him taking a woman apart on his desk. She looked like she wanted to disappear, like she hated every second of it. And I hated her. Because I would have begged for more. Damien promised his sister he’d stay away from me. He told himself I was too young, too close, and too dangerous. For a while, he believed it. But that ended the night he caught me touching myself in my office, late after hours, knowing he was watching. That’s when everything changed.

“You can stand there and deny it all you want,” he said huskily in my ear. “But I know how drenched you were that night. Your tight little p*ssy? It was calling my name, baby.” “You’re insane! I never wanted you!” I gritted out, hating how weak I sounded. Hating how my arms suddenly didn’t have the strength to push him away. How there was a part of me that truly wanted him, despite everything. “Keep denying it,” he murmured, eyes darkening. “It just makes me more eager to bend you over my desk and f*ck that attitude right out of you.” *** When executive assistant Alice Rhodes sent her arrogant and insufferable boss, Theodore Linden-Hawthorne, a sext during the company’s New Year’s party, her life turned completely upside down. She lost everything: her fiancé, her family, and her best friend, all because of one embarrassing mistake. To make matters worse, Theodore seemed incapable of staying away from her, and Alice was horrified to realize that the feeling was slowly starting to become mutual. But this attraction between them came at a price. Alice and Theodore came from two completely different worlds. Their attraction was forbidden and frowned upon by everyone around them. Would their love survive vengeful exes, juicy scandals, hidden secrets, and unexpected surprises?

After the SAT, I come across a post online. Someone posts, "If you could make a choice all over again, which major would you choose this time?" The comments are filled with people wishing they had chosen a different major. They all have their own regrets. One response stands out from the rest. "I would choose literature. That way, he and I wouldn't have missed out on the four years we should have spent together because of that unwanted baggage." I chuckle and am about to scroll past when I suddenly notice the profile picture and username. They are identical to those of my childhood sweetheart, Winter Andersen. I click into the profile. Everything matches her current account exactly, except that the age is ten years older. My heart sinks to my stomach. This has to be her ten years in the future. No wonder I am the only one celebrating when we are admitted to the same major. No wonder she zones out for so long after seeing my best friend, Simon Brown, receive his acceptance letter from the literature department. It turns out I am the unwanted baggage responsible for so many of her regrets and disappointments. Since that is the case, I quietly press "Accept" on the admission offer written entirely in a foreign language. I shall end this mistake ten years ahead of schedule.

At 11:00 pm, I've just locked my car and am about to walk away when rows of bright red comments appear right in front of my eyes. "Warning! Your husband, whom you're still in a 30-day cooling-off period with, wants to kidnap you! He'll take nudes of you while livestreaming the entire process before mutilating you into chunks and flushing you down the sewers!" "Well, this gold digger keeps swindling money from her husband while toying with his feelings relentlessly. Now, she even wants a portion of his assets by getting a divorce from him. Serves her right for being a target of revenge!" I'm left feeling shell-shocked. After all, I'm single as a Pringle. How the heck did I even have a husband, to begin with?

I worked as a caregiver at a psychiatric hospital. One day, during a quiet shift, I came across a post from my husband's widowed sister-in-law. [Just launched my first AI-generated short drama! Hope you'll check it out and support me!] I tapped on the video attached to the post. The villain's face was identical to mine. I immediately messaged her and demanded that she take the video down. Instead, she posted our chat in the family group. Then she added: "If it really bothers you, I'll delete it. It's just a shame my first attempt at starting a business has already failed..." My husband replied almost instantly: "Don't delete it!" Then he tagged me. "So, what if you played a vicious villain? That's called making sacrifices for art." "This is the first business your sister-in-law has ever started. Stop being so dramatic." My mother-in-law chimed in as well: "Your sister-in-law is trying to build something of her own. What's wrong with supporting her?" "What do you mean she used your face without permission? We're family. Why make such a fuss over something so trivial?" "She used all of our faces, and none of us complained. What, do you think your face is worth more than everyone else's?" What they didn't know was that I was an undercover investigative journalist. So yes, my face really was worth more than theirs.

The day after I proposed to my fiancée, she sent me a message out of nowhere saying it was over. I called her over and over, frantic, but she hung up every time. I sent message after message, and she read every one without replying. I even went looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found. It was not until I collapsed onto the couch, completely drained and white as a sheet, that I finally saw a new social media post from her childhood friend. [Only Ellery would actually go through with it. She drew the dare to dump her fiancé cold—no explanation, nothing—and she really did it. Absolute legend!] I read it, then replied to her message: [Got it.]