Psychopath Smirk Novels & Stories

“Daddy.” There was a loud sigh down the phone. “I know, Angela, but the way he smirked at me, the way he talked about you. I lost control for just a second. He didn’t even move; he just sat there like a statue and took it. He’s a damn psychopath, Angela, I don't know what you were thinking.”

My stomach tightens and I gulp as I memorize the file again. This is the man that sits across from me with his lazy posture and half-amused, half-predatory expression and eyes. He looks so calm and completely different than what this file reads or says about it . But I would be a fool and not worthy of my license If I don’t realize that psychopaths like him with the level of high IQ he possesses never slip their mask in public or in front of anyone. I flip another page and two photograph falls out. It’s photos taken from a surveillance still. One of them is when he had finished beating a man who’s probably dead because in the photo he literally glanced at the camera with a deadly smirk on hi

While he was gone, my mind went back to Alessia and I sighed. “ Well, I'm not sorry, Bunny.” I clicked my tongue. Soon, Banks and Dragon walked in and I smirked darkly. “ Hello brother.” Banks flashed me a smile, the one that doesn't reach his eyes. In terms of psychotic behaviour, I will give it to Banks. He is a psychopath who covers up with a smile. I might be more dangerous than he was because I never hide my psychotic behaviour, but he does. He hides it under the façade of his smile.

"No laughing!" He smirk. "Okay." "Also smirking!" He nods his head. "Noted." "And stop being handsome! That's a crime. You should be in the prison right now." He laughed so hard. "Damn it! So cute..." he curse. "You should be in prison too." "Why?" I asked. "Because of too much cuteness. That's a crime too." he grin. I grin too. "My cuteness was inborn, baby. It's natural, not a crime."

Back straight, hands bloodied, expression calm—too calm. But his smile? That was the part that made my stomach turn. He wasn’t just satisfied. He was enjoying this. The sick smirk on his lips carved deep lines into his otherwise beautiful face, twisting it into something unrecognizable. Something cruel. Sadistic. He didn’t look at me. He was still watching the man on the ground… like he was waiting for him to break. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His gaze finally flicked to me. He didn’t flinch.

I mused to myself, a triumphant smile onmy faces. As the argument between Charlotte and Dylan escalated, reaching a crescendo of emotions, I made my presence known with a calculated smirk. Stepping closer to the unfolding drama, I delivered my words with finality. "Sorry, Charlotte, but it's time for you to get the hell out of our lives," I declared, my voice laced with a hint of satisfaction as I asserted my newfound position in the tumultuous dynamics at play. The smirk on my face betrayed triumph, a feeling of empowerment that came from seizing control of the situation and asserting my influence.

His smirk was pure sin, dark and dangerous. "That's my girl."

With his evil smirk, blood spilled on his face, and with the gun in his hands, he looked like a psychopath, and a low sob escaped my mouth while I tried to accept what I witnessed. “H-Hayden?”

“Good boy.” I blink. My brain short-circuits. Did he...did this psychopath just pat me on the head and call me a good boy? I stare at him, dumbfounded, rage and confusion clashing together violently. “You what?" His smirk widens. He’s watching me like I’m his new favorite game. “I think you like being chained up and called a good boy,” he mutters, shifting closer. I exhale sharply through my nose, teeth grinding. “I think I like watching you bleed to death. Go on, tempt me."

He just looked at me with that calm, infuriating smirk, like he was still in control even when I had his life in my hands. My grip tightened. Why wasn’t he afraid? “Pretty doll,” he murmured, folding his arms leisurely behind his head like he was watching a circus show. “What do you think you’re doing?” That smirk, I wanted to rip it off his face. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” I snapped, trying to sound fierce, but I wasn’t sure it worked. “Why should I?” he drawled, tone rich with mockery. “You’re entertaining me with your little display of sheer foolishness.”