They say confession is good for the soul.

Personally? I think my confession is going to land me straight in hell. But as I look at the wreckage I’ve caused, I realize I don’t care.

People think bottoms are fragile. They look at a submissive dynamic and assume you are helpless, weak, or easily broken. They are so wrong. True submission isn't a lack of power—it’s the ultimate trap. It’s making someone believe they own you, while you are the one pulling every single string.

I was never meant to be the main character in this house. I was just the quiet, younger brother watching from the shadows while my sister, Maya, took everything.

Including him.

Six Months Ago.

"You are literally pathetic, you know that?"

A couch pillow slammed into my face, sending a cascade of empty candy wrappers flying across my messy, unmade bed. I didn't bother to move it. I just kept staring up at the white ceiling tiles, my chest tight, listening to the faint sound of deep, masculine laughter echoing from the living room downstairs.

Vance was down there. He was always down there, being the perfect, attentive boyfriend to Maya.

"I can't help it," I muffled into my mattress, letting out a soft, pathetic whine. I rolled over to face my best friend, Roxy. She was currently sitting cross-legged on my desk chair, destroying a bag of sour gummies, completely blind to the darkness twisting inside me. "He's just... everything. He treats everyone like they're precious. But he belongs to her."

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting a single, well-timed tear slip down my cheek. I made sure I looked small. Tragic. The perfect picture of an innocent, broken-hearted little brother.

Roxy groaned loudly, throwing her hands in the air. She was a storm of chaotic energy, completely fed up with my months of moping over a "mystery guy" whose identity I had fiercely hidden from her.

"Ugh, just steal him already!" Roxy yelled, pointing a neon gummy worm at me like a weapon. "Stop playing the sad indie movie protagonist. Mark your territory! Make him yours and make him take control!"

Just steal him already. Make him yours.

A slow, toxic thrill shot straight down my spine. The fake tear on my cheek dried instantly.

Roxy had no idea. She thought she was giving standard, wild advice to a heartbroken bestie. She didn't know she was handing a loaded weapon to a psychopath who had been waiting for an excuse to pull the trigger. She didn't know that the "mystery man" she just told me to conquer was currently helping my sister set our family dinner table.

"You know what, Roxy?" I whispered, my heart hammering with a sudden, addictive rush of adrenaline as I brushed my soft hair out of my eyes. "I think you're right. I think I'm done being nice."

Right on cue, the heavy click of the front door echoed from downstairs, followed by the sound of keys jangling on the counter.

Vance was back from his afternoon errands.

I stood up, walking slowly to my bedroom door, my knuckles turning white against the wooden frame. Down in the entryway, Vance’s tall, broad-shouldered frame filled the hallway as he handed Maya a bouquet of fresh flowers. He looked so safe. So pure. The ultimate green-flag man.

Suddenly, he paused, looking up the staircase. His dark gray eyes caught mine, softening into a warm, gentle smile as he gave me a polite wave.

Looking down at him, a dark, victorious smirk crawled onto my face. Roxy’s words echoed in my head like a command. I wasn't going to be the quiet little brother anymore. I was going to take her advice. I was going to make him own me.

The trap was set.

Sorry, sis. I’m taking your man.