There are definitely going to be people who see the title of this vertical series and immediately think, “Wait—her stepbrother?!” Let’s clear that up right away: yes, it’s a trope. A controversial one, sure, but a trope nonetheless. I know that some will ask me why I would watch something like that. TBH, it’s the My Fault: London movie that made me realize something, it’s all about how it’s handled. And yes, there are caveats to that. If the characters have been raised together since childhood, that’s a definite no. But if they’ve just met as older teens or adults, it’s a different dynamic. Is it personally my favorite storyline? Not really. Does it exist (and often)? Absolutely. My Taboo Crush On My Stepbrother leans fully into the taboo and doesn’t pretend otherwise.
As a matter of fact it leans into it within the first two minutes, allowing you plenty of time to exit the series if this is a trope you can not watch.
So, what made me spend an hour of my life watching a series of one- to two-minute episodes about a girl who moves in with her unstable mother, her new husband, and his son? One name: Armand Procacci. The man has better bone structure than most people I’ve ever met, and there’s something magnetic about his acting.
He’s the kind of actor who could fit any leading role — in a mafia story, he’d be the Don; in a werewolf series, the Alpha; in a billionaire romance, the CEO. He just has that commanding energy that instantly draws attention. Armand is one of the standout leads in vertical storytelling right now — and for good reason. He’s simply excellent at what he does.
Now, his character, Aiden, is another story. He’s a self-righteous troublemaker who could really use a reality check or as my mother would tell me, “that person needs a come to Jesus moment!”
When we first meet Aiden, he’s flirting with his teacher, and before long, he’s turning his attention toward his new stepsister. He’s cocky, manipulative, and thinks he has all the control. Why? He’s attractive. His delusion about having control is interesting because it’s based off certain moments of power. With Vivian he especially thinks he’s in charge after finding Vivian’s vibrator, which raises the obvious question: why was she carrying that in her backpack?
Aiden knows exactly who he is — the popular, good-looking guy everyone gravitates toward. He’s used to getting his way and people being intimidated by him, but Vivian isn’t the type to let that slide. She challenges him, and to be fair, he challenges her right back. Their relationship is a mix of teenage attraction and genuine understanding, and that push and pull keeps things interesting.
There’s definitely a will-they-or-won’t-they energy between them, though their efforts to resist are pretty minimal. They love to see which part of each others bodies tongues or fingers can enter or touch. They’re impulsive, emotional, and caught up in the moment — a recipe for drama if there ever was one. It’s messy and far from ideal, but it makes sense for who they are and where they’re at in life. They are teenagers just discovering their sexual identities.
Of course, the chaos of their lives isn’t entirely their fault. Their parents are a masterclass in bad decision-making and could both benefit from extensive therapy and maybe in patient therapy to learn to parent altogether.
Aiden doesn’t exactly try to fight his attraction to Vivian; instead, he leans into his usual mix of charm and manipulation. Vivian matches him beat for beat. They’re both flawed in similar ways — stubborn, emotional, and constantly pushing boundaries. Then again, their are not many boundaries that are set for them by others or by themselves.
To make matters worse, Aiden’s ex, Chloe, has gone completely mental. She’s obsessive, possessive, and always lurking nearby. Vivian gets jealous — understandably — and, in a moment of frustration, agrees to go out with another guy. He turns out to be a total creep who drugs her at a school dance. It’s an infuriating moment, and Aiden, to his credit, tries to do the right thing. Ryan, the guy responsible, absolutely deserves real punishment, and it’s frustrating that justice isn’t immediate. Justice needs to be served to quite a few people in this series.
I understand that stories need conflict, but using assault or drugging as a plot device always feels like the easy way out. There are so many other ways to create tension without going there. Storytelling carries responsibility, and “that’s just the formula” isn’t a strong excuse anymore.
Speaking of formulas — stories have always had one. It’s nothing new. What matters now is how creators present them. And here, the production value stands out. Vertical series have come a long way, and you can see the effort in the visuals — from the school dances and pool parties to the stylish sets and moody lighting. It’s not perfect, but it’s definitely engaging.
That said, I am known for hanging up on something and I will on this one. I’m still not sure why the private school kids insist on wearing their uniforms to dinner at home. Who are they trying to impress — the silverware? The china? The hutch?
Anyway, Vivian’s not exactly popular at school. Most people keep their distance because of her connection to Aiden — and because they’re terrified of Chloe, who is a walking red flag and in need of a restraining order. Then there’s Ryan, the aforementioned nightmare of a human being who things that drugging girls and assaulting them is a right.
Aiden steps in to protect Vivian, and naturally, he’s the one who gets in trouble for it. Justice, apparently, is optional in this school.
Then there’s Aiden’s father, the principal, who radiates disappointed dad energy. He never gives Aiden the benefit of the doubt and only seems to notice his son when he’s in trouble. It’s no wonder Aiden acts out — the guy clearly has a few unresolved father issues. Goes to show that us girls aren’t the only people with Daddy issues.
Vivian’s mother isn’t much better. When she finds out about Vivian and Aiden, she’s not worried about her daughter’s wellbeing — just her own reputation. But ironically, Vivian’s presence ends up being the catalyst for change. She forces people — including Aiden’s father — to face their mistakes and see how self serving their priorities have been. By the end, Aiden’s father starts to come around, Chloe and Ryan face the consequences of their actions, and Vivian and Aiden’s parents get divorced. Which, conveniently, means they’re no longer step-siblings.
The trope might be taboo, but the execution here is about 85% solid and 92% addictive. Sure, half the side characters are forgettable, but the leading man — Armand — more than make up for the forgettable. My Taboo Crush On My Stepbrother is another vertical series worth watching — flawed, dramatic, and impossible to look away from.
