Bad Male Writing Novels & Stories

He yelled and banged his hand on the upper rail. "FUCK!!" He screamed, dropping the cigarette, maybe in pain, or frustration, or both. "I hate my life! I hate my father! I hate his father! In fact, I hate all of the fathers in my generation! They're the reason for all of this. Just to secure a business, they tear down and break their families... for something so miniscule that's not even worth it." He remarked as his voice cracked and his hands shook violently.

Her phone had been going off with calls and messages but she had ignored them all. So what if she didn't really want to be his friend? How would she even be friends with someone as horrible as he was! So what if she just wanted him for her physical gain? Would he sincerely admit that he had not done the same to a girl? Isn't that what men did? Prey women and dump them the minute that they get what they want? Just you wait, Domenico! I would make you cry as much as you've made me! I would make you hurt so much, you would wish you had never been born!

"And I dare you to stop acting like some gothic badboy punk, Evans." I can hear my breaths coming out in rasps now, blood pounding in my ears. I notice Luke's eyebrows knit together. A low taunting chuckle escapes his lips. "Did you. . . . . . did you just call me a gothic badboy punk?" "I think I did." "You are one hell of a blabber mouth Smith." "And you are one hell of an asshole who goes about hurting people and not even feeling apologetic about it in the slightest!" I yell.

Is he a sociopath? "And you don't feel bad at all? Did you enjoy it?" I feel dizzy. I still can't wrap my head around this. I thought these kinds of things only happened in movies! "Of course, I feel bad for the guy! But it's the ugly side of this lifestyle," Logan winced. "I don't understand. Why would you want this kind of lifestyle?" I asked. Logan looks into the space for a moment as if he is thinking hard. "I don't know why. Maybe because I want to feel powerful? All my life, people assumed that I'm some kind of a goody two shoes, and I want to prove them wrong."

“Now tell me how this all relates to your books on Kalti. “Like I said at the reading, I'm a regular guy, an ordinary guy. must have murder and chaos to make me happy. In the wide smile he gave me, I caught a glimpse of what he must have been like as a kid. A little adventurous. And this adventurous brat lived in Kalti. Damien could be an adult with a successful career and letting that boyish side of you come out to play in your writing. "So my books are heavy on plot," he continued, "but there's also the character development. Kalti is an intriguing and complex guy. a bit like a lost soul, a guy from the underworld, a bad boy. Women are fascinated by this type. - And even? I smiled a yes at

“Oops I would have loved to see his corpse burning, for separating me from you all these years” “You're so wild” I smirked and spank her bouncy boobs “Fuck, get down to business and stop reading me” “It would have been good if we were making out and watching his corpse burn to ashes, it would have been a good last memory that he takes to his grave” “You're such a naughty man” “And you're the baddest of them all, come here let me eat you up” I spread her legs wider apart, my hungry gaze met with her succulent pussy which was spread apart waiting for me to take them in,

“I feel the same way. I was just putting on an asshole act to save you from me. I’m madness… The complete opposite of everything that’s good for you. A notorious cartel leader. Murdering and racketeering is in my blood. And then there’s you…” He shook his head. “You’re too innocent for my dark and dangerous world.” I cupped his face in my hands. “What if I’m tired of playing by the rules?” I whispered. “What if I’m tired of being sane? You might think you’re no good for me, but I see the good in you, Adrian. You’re not a monster… You’re not a bad man. I know we’re complete opposites of each other. I know that we met in fucked-up circumstances. I know that I’m breaking all the boundaries I ev

was some kind of campus Casanova, a mysterious god of sex who’d seen it all, done it twice, and written the manual. The truth was, I was a fraud. A beautiful, well-structured, grammatically perfect fraud. I was a virgin whose only sexual experience was the chafing on his own dick and the bitter taste of his own cum. Lately, the stories were getting harder to write. The well was running dry, and my own hand was getting tired. I was recycling my own pathetic fantasies, and they were getting stale. The latest comments on the magazine’s online forum were a public execution. ‘The author is obviously a virgin. Total turn-off.’ That one line had burned itself onto the inside of my eyelids. They kne

Even strangers on the internet were saying terrible things about me. I was completely alone. The stories I had written as an escape, as a way to express feelings I could not say out loud, had become weapons used against me. Every word I had ever written was being twisted and used to prove that I was sick. Perverted. Wrong. Maybe they were right. Maybe there was something wrong with me. Normal girls did not write sexual fantasies about their stepbrothers. Normal girls did not get blackmailed into fake relationships. Normal girls did not cause this much chaos everywhere they went.

I stared at the latest comment on my newest chapter. "This sex scene is pathetic." "Do you even know what good fucking feels like?" "This reads like a bad porno from 2005." "Delete your account." "Stop letting virgins write sex scenes." "Don't you get tired of giving us bad sex scenes, Author?" "I bet no one's ever fucked you right, so you decided to punish us all with this."