The Perfectionist's Guide To Losing Control の小説・ストーリー

He wasn't entirely certain what would happen next. Couldn't predict with confidence. Couldn't model the outcome. And that uncertainty, That small crack in his absolute control. Was the beginning of his downfall. The first step toward something he'd spent his entire career trying to prevent. Loss of control. Genuine, irreversible loss of control.

Sometimes he would be in an excellent mood, and sometimes he would burst in rage. " My life would have been easier if I had never met you," Dylan continued. " Without you, I would never have these weird urges to dominate and control everything about you." " T-Then, I-I will disappear from your life..." Aiden started but was interrupted by Dylan, who slapped him across his face. " All you talk about is leaving me," Dylan screamed. " I have a better option. Why don't I lock you up in this house? That way, I won't have to lose my control seeing you with others and can have you all to myself."

Another line formed. Slower this time. More deliberate. IT WAS PERFECT Her chest tightened. “Perfect for what?” A flicker. Then— CONTROL The word landed like a weight. Of course. That again. Always that. “You call that perfect?” she asked. No immediate answer. Then— NO CONFLICT NO LOSS NO ERROR Her breath caught. “That’s not perfection,” she said. “That’s absence.” A pause. Longer this time. The glow dimmed slightly— then surged back. Stronger.

I knew at that moment that I had just crossed my boundary. ////////////////////////////////// Okay, so I have decided to give each chapter a status Frenzy(easy to write) Cranky( not easy) Frenzy but a little Cranky, you know what that is. This is imperfection, the first trilogy.

Anger flickered beneath my fear. Perfected? Was suffering perfection? Was the submission balance? Images rushed through me. Omegas bowed into dust. Wolves chained to bonds that strangled them. Pups raised to believe their worth was decided before their first breath. No. If that was perfection… Then the world deserved to be fractured. “You mistake control for harmony,” the voice continued. Kael’s grip tightened. “Elara, talk to me.” I grounded myself in the heat of his hand. In the fierce pulse of the bond.

I announced pulling her leg towards me softly. "Okay, you're a perfectionist and you like things done a specific way, you're also a very successful businesswoman who has to deal with different people all of whom have different ways of approaching tasks and because of that a large majority of the time things aren't done the way you want it to be done, a lot of things are out of your control which leads to you wanting to take control in anything you can in your personal life, for instance, sex," she confessed making me smile, her observation turning me on slightly since not many people really understood me or the-

“Use it to end this.” Lena wanted to scream, to hit something, to make her feel it. But she wouldn’t because Evelyn would win if she lost control. Noah’s hand brushed against hers—just the lightest touch, a grounding presence. Lena forced herself to breathe. She turned to face Mercer once more. "If I do this… I do it my way." Mercer cocked his head to the side, looking at her. "Of course." Lena wasn't sure that he believed her for a moment, but she didn't really care. She wasn't doing this for him. She was doing this for her to bring an end to the nightmare for good.

“Afraid that if I let this—the connection, the… whatever this is—exist fully, I’ll lose control. Lose myself. Lose focus. Lose you.” I took a careful step closer. Closer than appropriate. “Reign…” My voice shook slightly. Not from fear. But from everything he just admitted. “You’re not losing control,” I whispered. “You’re being honest.” He shook his head. “No. I am losing control. Every day. Every decision. Every time you… push past the barriers I set.” I exhaled slowly. His walls—so carefully constructed—were cracking. And I was standing here, watching it happen.

Somewhere far away, music played at a party I wasn’t attending. “You think telling me this makes you clean?” I asked. “No,” he said. “I think it makes me useful.” That earned him a point. I stood and walked toward him slowly. He stiffened, like he expected me to slap him or scream. I did neither. “Control,” I said, stopping a step away, “means knowing everything. Even the ugly things. Especially the ugly things.” I took the flash drive from his hand. “This doesn’t change what you did,” I continued. “It doesn’t fix anything. And it sure as hell doesn’t make us even.”

“I’ve been thinking about this. About how to make you lose that control you guard so carefully.” “Good luck with that.” “Oh, I don’t need luck. I have a plan.” I stroke him slowly, watching his face. “See, I realized something last week. You’re competitive. You want to win. Even in this.” “So?” “So what if winning becomes impossible?” I increase my pace until he’s fully hard, hips starting to move. “What if I don’t let you come?” His eyes narrow. “What?” “You heard me. What if I bring you right to the edge—” I stroke faster and his breathing hitches. “—and then stop?”