Psychotic Smirk Novels & Stories

To be honest, he was quite good-looking, and he also looked young but the weird smirk that he had on his face made him look like the joker. As I thought of his resemblance to the fictional character, I had the sudden urge to burst into a peal of laughter and I did. I laughed so hard that I felt tears rolling down my cheeks as I stupidly pointed at the man whose smirk had dissipated. In place of the smirk, he now had an annoyed expression glued to his face. I came down from my crazy laughing bout as I cleaned my tears with my thumb, and directed a gaze at the man. "Care to enlighten me about the cause of your amusement?" He asked, his vexed countenance dissipating.

I furrow my brows. “No, sir. I don’t understand you. I say I want to go home.” “And I say you’re not going anywhere. I’m saying that you will stay here until I give you permission to leave the building.” The anger is replaced with a sly smirk. “Why?” My frustration is also replaced, not by mirth but by unease. His smirk turns into a full out grin. It is not a pleasing look or a comforting grin. It is scary, like the grin of a psychotic killer in a horror movie.

Shit, the sea is already on my knee level! I felt my tears slowly streaming down my cheeks. "Please, I really don't want to be possessed. He finally stopped which I silently thanked. I was scared while looking at him until one corner of his lip gradually lifted for a scary and annoying smirk. Less than a few seconds later his smirk was immediately followed by a loud laugh. I stared at him, dumbfounded. "What the hell is his deal now?" I ask myself. He looks crazy. Wrong. He is really crazy.

He grabbed the mic and 'ordered' YES, ordered everyone to pay attention to him. 'What the fuck?' I hissed at him and tried to pull my hand away from his but that hulk didn't even give me a look and continued like I was not trying to shake off his hold like his touch was burning my skin with every passing second. A smirk was playing on his lips. An evil one. That kind of smirk that expresses that he knows what he is going to do next is gonna pull your soul out of your mouth. Yeah, That kind of smirk. That smirk gave me shivers right down to my spine and an unknown fear gripped my heart. I knew it! I knew it wasn't a good idea to come here. Fucking Hell.

I state. He smirks for the whole nation—a beamy, gelid smirk that riles my demons. After he is done smirking to only him and the devil knows what, he takes slow, dreadful strides towards me. He closes the gap between us, leaving nothing but space between us. His arctic eyes are fixed on nowhere else but my loatheful ones. I stand unthreatened beneath his tall frame as we stare at each other like two lions, ready to slit each other’s throats.

he whispered, his voice cracking. I smirked. A deep, satisfied smirk that reached my eyes. "Try me… I actually want you to try me and see what I can do. ."

` i add casually. A soft sob escaped his throat. I smirk and cross right my leg on top of the left one because this was just the beginning. Psychological torture...its been a while since I did that.

Then slowly… very slowly… his grin became terrifying and it was not playful terrifying but actual terrifying. “Oh?” he murmured softly. “Now I definitely want to.” I instantly regretted speaking. “You are deeply unpleasant.” “And yet,” he said smugly, “you’re still standing here talking to me.” “Because you haven’t released me yet!” “Minor detail.” I exhaled sharply through my nose before finally managing to pry his hand off my waist. Success. Unfortunately the psychopath looked impressed instead of offended. “Strong little human,” he mused. “I like that.”

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.

Can there be any beauty beyond his? "Hey!" I called, and he turned to me. "Forget what I did back there, okay? I was kind of possessed by some kind of evil spirit. I was not myself. I'm sorry." This is so embarrassing, especially because he is looking at me. He gives me a smirk that's hard for me to understand. "You want to share your problems?" The smirk is gone, and he wears a serious face. Either way, he still looks very handsome. With or without a smile or a smirk on his face, my eyes would still remain glued to him.