L Profile Picture Novels & Stories

It's just out of curiosity. I immediately found it. But it's private so I can't see his pictures. I just looked at his profile. He was lying there and only half of his body was visible. His background was the serene blue sea. He was looking into the distance, his face slightly sunlit and his expression serious. Even in the pictures, he looks really handsome. And maybe at any other angle he was still handsome to look at. He really should just keep the account private because some women might be celebrating.

Sophie I downloaded the infamous Fantasy app, but, yeah not before thinking infinite times. Damn. I had to upload a picture. I thought I'd just go with some random fake photo, but when I scrolled through the profiles I noticed that most of the women's pictures were way more sexual, revealing their body parts without a second thought. But since I was shy, I decided to upload my side profile picture, not the face. Then I realized.. shit — I was wearing my night shirt and pajama trousers in it. Nothing sexy about it.

She hit enter and waited, tapping her fingers against the desk in impatience. This time, the search results were more promising. One link in particular caught her eye—a F******k profile. Flora clicked on it, holding her breath as the page loaded. When it did, her heart sank a little. The profile was set to private, meaning she couldn’t see much beyond the basics. However, the profile picture was enough to confirm her suspicions. It was indeed Janice, though she looked a few years younger in the photo.

The name was a single letter: **L**. I clicked the profile. Unlike the others, the bio was sparse. > *L. Discretion is not a service; it is a requirement. Intellectual stimulation, physical companionship, or strategic presence. I do not perform for crowds. I provide what is missing. Terms are non-negotiable.*

Everybody knows Jamie is low profile, he never let anyone take his picture, so I surely expected a F******k account without a profile picture. With the name JL Peyton, initials for Jamie Lee Peyton, I am certain that this is Jamie’s account. I tap into his account and look around. As expected by my smallest hope, his profile is all locked up, not being a friend of his makes me unable to discover more of him on his profile page, but I know he probably never liked any fan pages or joined any group on social media platforms, so it is useless for me to see his profile page anyway.

A second later, her eyes grew wide in shock. “Ahemm..I see. Nice!..” “You should change your profile picture, it was too formal.” She was taken aback. “Umm.. okay?” Her eyes darted sideways. “Yeah, you should replace it with a more candid photo.” He said as they walked back to their line. She nodded. “Got it.” He had a point. The photo she used was the only photo inside her wallet. It was a copy of an ID picture. It really was too formal for a social media account profile picture.

"His profile picture is a guy with eight-pack abs. His name is a guy's name too." Avery said, "Eric, a profile picture doesn't mean that it's the person's true identity! Since the person who introduced her to your parents said that she's a girl, I don't think there's a mistake."

Only the name was a lie. Then it was time for the body description. I said I was slim,a bit of a large stomach, and a petite figure.For my profile picture, the site wanted a clear photo of me holding a sign with my username and the site's name to prove I was real. They said this picture wouldn't be posted, and I could use whatever I wanted for my main profile picture as long as it followed the rules.

She had learned well from Asher. “I’ll make sure everyone knows what you really are! You and your father are the same! Both of you are disgraceful, and—” “And this isn’t disgraceful?” Liz raised her phone again, showing an image on the screen. Lana gasped and covered her mouth. Liz was showing a photo of herself—completely nude. It wasn’t fake; Lana recognized the pose and the background. It was definitely her, but that picture was never supposed to be seen. It was stored safely on her phone.

I braced for a news link, a police report, a photo of a wrecked car. What loaded was a gallery of Olek. Shirtless. Dozens of pictures. Gym mirror selfies, bathroom selfies, pictures where he was flexing so hard his veins looked ready to pop. His pants were slung low on his hips in every single one. I stared, my brain short-circuiting. "Olivia," I said, the sweet tone straining at the edges. "What the fuck is this?" "I am making a profile on a dating site. A premium one. For wealthy American women who appreciate a real man. I cannot decide which photo makes me look most… approachable, yet dominant. You are a woman. You will know."