Psychological Fiction Novels & Stories

Realizing there was no escape from the situation and being okay with it. I held my breath though I'm not sure why. It would only make me suffer. I once read in a book that drowning was a peaceful way to pass, just one intake of water and your lungs can no longer work properly. It's like going to sleep and never waking up. For a split second I thought about doing it, just to get the pain I was feeling to be over. I paid attention to my heartbeat. I held my breath though I'm not sure why. It would only make me suffer. I once read in a book that drowning was a peaceful way to pass, just one intake of water and your lungs can no longer work properly.

"Thank you." My heart sat in the bottom of my throat as I watched him disappear from the dim room. I sighed and turned to float on my back. Pressure from all the jets pushed me gently around the pool. I stared at the water droplets forming on the tiled ceiling from the steam. I felt strange, almost removed from myself. I was probably just sad-sad and guilty. Freya and Valentina were just murdered and here I was, soaking in a luxurious, oversized hot bath. Their killer was out on the loose somewhere, doing god knows what. Probably hurting other innocent women. It both angered and terrified me.

He said with a soft voice and sympathy that I was sure was not even there. “You doubt me? You could just ignore him like he doesn’t even exist. I am the one who will take care of him.” He said it out loud, purposely for Leo to hear him. “And if he made you uncomfortable. Just tell me. I’ll dig his eyes out, maybe just one. I hate the fact he can’t see our happy life together…” Now I know. Why do people call him ruthless. Now I know, why people call him a psychopath. I walked out of the house as soon as Alex loosen his grip on my waist. Oh my god, what I just witness earlier.

The stimulation was direct, relentless, and combined with the psychological thrill of the suggestion, it built Mira’s orgasm quickly. It started as a deep, coiling tension in her pelvis. The pleasure wasn’t just from her clit; it felt connected to the whole scene—the memory of Tessa’s pussy on her tongue, the sight of Sloane’s double penetration, the promise of what was next. It was a full-body anticipation that tightened every muscle. Wren saw the signs—the tightening of Mira’s stomach, the flutter of her inner muscles, the sharp intake of breath. “That’s it… cum for us, Mira. Cum right here in the water. Let us see it.”

Copyright ©️2021 by Mylovelyreaders All rights reserved. ⚠️DARK ROMANCE⚠️ If you’re looking for some action thriller romantic drama then I would love to welcome you all to my first ever book on this platform ”Psycho Mafia”. Guys this is my first book. This story is entirely my imagination and the characters are fictious. Any resemblance from the resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

My shoulders raised in denial, I'm not sure how to feel around him anymore. It's not love or hate, I'm feeling like I'm soulless already. " No I can't read his mind, nor any creature, besides Humans, especially you, you are the first one I could read. " Max answered cheerfully and I'm not so happy about her reading my mind but yeah. I have nothing to hide anyway. We visited many shops as Max is obsessed with gothic clothes, I just bought one dress since I couldn't make any money, it's Spencer's money we are spending anyway.

A boredom so profound it threatened to unravel its own consciousness. In its despair, it used its vast power to perform an ultimate act of narrative control: it began to *fictionalize* itself. It started rewriting its own past, not to change it, but to label it. *This was a comedy,* it would decide, and the memory would become flat, a series of punchlines. *This was a tragedy,* and the pain would become a aesthetic object, stripped of its sting. It was turning the vibrant, messy tapestry of its life into a neatly organized library of genres. It was committing the final, quiet sin: treating its own existence as a story that was already over.

I gather facts more than a reporter, search more than a detective. I take out my phone and open the browser. The internet is full of information. I am sure I can find one about this mysterious Mr. Fiction; I tell myself as I type on the g****e search bar. I feel the hesitation linger with doubt starts clouding my mind. What if I am not ready to find out about him? What if it is not something I am prepared for?

He was old school if he read a wide variety of the comics that inspired them. “That’s really cool,” she told him honestly. He smiled. “Not as cool as reading nonfiction for fun. That’s seriously impressive. I never read nonfiction unless it was for school.” “Fiction and nonfiction both have their places in terms of entertainment and how informative they are. I feel like fiction does a better job of overall explaining the human condition and how people tick than nonfiction does because of the variety of characters’ emotions and motivations.” “That makes sense. I suppose there are psychology textbooks but those are clinical and often use terms laypeople can’t understand.”

"That sounds nice." "Yea.. I could feel his heartbeat so closely. It was fast. But it calmed me down. I think...that's when I found out I too, had feelings for him." "Oh. You like him?" I chuckled. "Right? I like my own target. I like a psycho. I..like a killer." "I don't think there's anything wrong with that." "What do you mean?" "A psycho is a psycho for a reason. There's must've been a trigger for that. He was once normal, you know?"