Booktok Ruining Literature Novels & Stories

"It's, really, Tasha. You don't know the pressure it is to know that anything I say tonight will be in some dialogue in a book of yours. I'm trying to say that I could search for any phrase I'm saying tonight and I would find it on g****e, like the speech of a character. That's too much, Tasha. I'm not kidding. I really think too much what writers can do for other people. I've heard many stories of people in depression who were cured by finding help in the books, even those that most people consider a bullshit that should not have been written. You're awesome!” I agreed with him. In one of the worst phases of my life, it was an inconsequential love for Fifty Shades of Grey that took me out o

~ A M E L I A ~ It couldn’t be. What were the chances? The book I was looking at in the library a while back, which was all destroyed and unreadable, was also Everett’s favourite book and is a book that is widely hated. Things weren’t adding up. Shaking my head, ‘I don’t understand. If it’s a book of fiction, why do people hate it so much? Why can’t you have a fictional story of a female Alpha leader?’

You enjoy the fluff, get your panties wet during the snu-snu moments, and fantasize about things that only happen in fiction. 'You like to read these crappy books because you want to fantasize about the things that you can never have. These books make up for your boring reality. These books have twisted your expectations of a real man. You drool over fictional characters but you won't look at a real man,' My younger brother had chastised me once, 'and these authors make your wallet thinner by manipulating your mindset and making you addicted.'

I slid the toy lower, pushing it inside my cream filled hole pretending it was their dicks in me. "Yes.....yes....Jax....Ryder.....fuck....fuck...me harder...." Shame burned in my chest. Those two fuckers were still wet behind their ears while I was thirty one. I had a boyfriend and a reputable job. My mind went to my boyfriend who would throw up if he saw these books. The only thing he was good at was licking my cunt, with a lot of teeth. Sigh! He also had a puny cock. I brought the book closer reading the words. "They ruined her asshole. Hammered her tight backdoor till she squirted on the floor."

Tall people were the worst. “‘My nipples beaded and my core moistened,’” he continued. He wrinkled his nose. “Core? Why does this sound like she’s describing the earth’s core? Is this poor woman full of lava?” “It’s a metaphor.” I finally was able to snatch the book from his sneaky, princely fingers. “And yes, it’s ridiculously flowery. That’s why I like it.” “I’m surprised.” “That I read?” “No. That you read books like these.”

He, not Peter, had been successful in convincing her of the value of literature outside of the genres she had previously regarded acceptable for publishing. She even found herself smiling as she thought back on her prudish past, wondering how she had ever thought she was qualified to be the last judge of everyone's appropriateness. Each book has a unique method of connecting with its readers, and that's why literature exists in the first place. Who was she to get in the way of things? Her role was limited to ensuring everything went off without a hitch.

Although I had no hope it would say anything I didn't already know, I flipped through the pages nevertheless. It took all but a few minutes to realize, I had been right. The book had nothing to offer. My search was still far from over, frustrated, I sighed flipping quickly through the pages. “You look like you’re about to rip that book in half.” I turned to see Zara leaning against a shelf, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face. I hadn't heard her coming. “I just might,” I muttered, closing the book with a thud. “It’s a useless book, filled with lies and propaganda. Burning it would do it more justice.” letting my anger flow.

And so damned hot. She talked about narrative structure and unreliable narrators. I barely heard her. My hand shook as I turned to page 117. When she asked if anyone had an example of a compelling line from erotic literature, I raised my hand. She raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Turner?” I stood and cleared my throat. “He wanted to taste obedience on her tongue.” The class went silent. A couple students chuckled. Someone made a low “damn” sound in the back. She didn’t laugh. She just smiled slowly.

I said wondering when daddy became this boring or Annie might have rubbed off on him. Annie hardly read these kinds of books. “Oh, darling, I've been too focused on human psychology these days and guess what I figured?” He asked genuinely excited, but kept his eyes glued to the words written on the pages of the book. “What?” “I figured books are the only things that have true meaning and hold both truth and lies, life and death… happiness and misery -” he glanced up from his book and at me, before turning back to them. “- A man who reads can rule by learning the art of manipulation,” he said, his smile wicked and wanton.

To be honest, this is too exaggerate for him to do. Did he even think about the money he wasted if these books were stock for long waiting for them to be read? What if termites and live around here? It would be such a waste if these books would end up being destroyed by those pests rather than consumed by the minds of a true-blooded reader. At this moment, I can't help but feel sad while looking at the massive inventory of books inside this place. I wish I have the authority to read all of them.