My Brother’s Worst Fan — Arc 2: He Straddled Me. I Regret Everything.

by TagYourYanderes

Summary:

Rin thought the top bunk was safe. He was wrong.

Sae smirks. Lap crimes escalate. Sleep talking becomes weaponized. Pride is optional. Humiliation is mandatory.

Enemies, rivals, roommates… and one body pressing in all the wrong ways at all the wrong times.
Can Rin survive this roommate apocalypse without begging? Spoiler: he’s already halfway there.

Chapter 1

[Luck Counter: 0% — Reality Reset. Ego Laughing in the Control Room]

The kiss never happened.

That’s the rule. Rin declared it when he stormed off the field, and Sae—true to form—didn’t bother to disagree. He just smirked, let silence do the dirty work, and carried on like nothing in their entire shared history had cracked open and bled across the turf.

By morning, the new dorm assignments are posted.

Rin’s name.

Sae’s name.

Same room.

Ego doesn’t even pretend it’s coincidence. He calls it “experimental optimization.” Everyone else calls it “sexual harassment via architecture.”

The room is barely wide enough for two egos, let alone two Itoshi egos. One narrow dresser. One tiny desk. One bunk bed shoved into the corner like a metaphor.

Sae drops his bag on the floor and says nothing. He doesn’t have to. The silence already says: I’m taking top.

Rin glares, blood pressure spiking. “No.”

Sae quirks an eyebrow. “You think you’re top material?”

“It’s not about material. It’s about fairness.”

“Fairness,” Sae repeats, like the word tastes poisonous. “Interesting concept from someone who tried to tongue-wrestle me in front of the team.”

Rin lunges before his brain can veto. He scrambles up the ladder, nails biting into metal. “My bed,” he hisses from the top rung, sprawled on the thin mattress like a victorious gremlin.

Sae looks up at him with the patience of a saint in a hostage situation. “Congratulations. You’ve achieved altitude.”

“Better than groveling on the floor.”

“Oh?” Sae hooks a finger under the flimsy railing, rattles it just enough to make the frame whine. “Guess we’ll see how well you sleep when gravity gets bored.”

Rin grips the edge, knuckles white. He hates how his pulse betrays him. He hates the smug curve of Sae’s mouth. He hates—

 

That night, Rin dreams of falling.

Unfortunately, dreams have terrible comedic timing.

At 2:37AM, the bunk bed shrieks like an old ship. Rin jolts awake mid-roll and—

thunk—he’s airborne.

He lands square on Sae.

Full body. Straddling.

Their noses nearly collide. Rin’s hair falls into Sae’s eyes. The thin dorm light flickers once, like God taking a photo.

Silence.

And then Rin feels it.

The betrayal. The worst possible symptom. His body, treasonous, pressing hard against the waistband of Sae’s shirt.

Mortification floods his veins like poison.

Sae blinks. Slowly. “Well,” he says, voice low, “look who came crawling down. …Excited to see me?”

Rin tries to scramble off him, but Sae’s hand is suddenly there—hovering at his hip, not holding him, just noticing. A touch that says: I feel it. I know.

Rin freezes. He shoves himself upright so hard his skull smacks the bunk frame.

Somewhere down the hall, Bachira’s laugh echoes: “I knew it! I called bunk sex by week two!”

Rin’s ears burn. Sae smirks in the dark.

 

FROM: SAE

TO: gravity’s bitch

“Top bunk: 0. Bottom bunk: 1. (…or should I say: 11?)”

Rin crumples it. Then smooths it out again. Then rips it to shreds with his teeth.

 

By dawn, a new AO3 update is already half-written in the drafts folder:

"The Prince believed the throne was safe. He didn’t realize it was designed to collapse. He falls. He always falls. Straight into the arms of the enemy who never bothers to catch him. His body betrays him first. His pride follows after."

 

Ego reads it before breakfast.

Sae reads it five times.

The bunk bed creaks ominously.

---

[Luck Counter: 15% — Humiliation Erection Event Triggered: Arc 2: "He Straddled Me. I Regret Everything." begins.]

Chapter 2: The View from Below

Summary:

Sae claims the top, Rin spirals at the bottom, and the Luck Counter climbs with every creak of the bed.

[Luck Counter: 15% → recalibrating. Ego whispers: “Switch.”]

The morning after the fall is hell.

Rin eats breakfast in silence, cheeks burning with residual mortification. He doesn’t look at anyone. Not even at Sae, who sits across from him calmly dissecting a boiled egg like it’s a metaphor for control.

Bachira wiggles his eyebrows across the table. “So? Top or bottom?”

Rin nearly chokes on rice. “Shut up.”

Sae doesn’t even blink. “Bottom.”

The word lands like a cleat to the throat. Rin’s fork clatters. Reo drops his juice carton. Nagi sighs, “Knew it.”

By the time Rin stomps back to the dorm, Sae has already claimed the top bunk.

The ladder creaks. His bag sits neatly on the upper mattress. His shoes are dangling off the railing like flags in victory. Rin stares up at the betrayal.

“No,” he says flatly.

“Yes,” Sae answers, flipping a page in his notebook.

“That’s mine.”

“You fell,” Sae says, calm as gravity. “You forfeited. House rules.”

Rin’s fists clench. His pulse screams. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” Sae meets his eyes over the edge of the bunk. Cool. Unbothered. Merciless. “I did.”

Rin considers ripping the ladder out of the wall. He considers burning the entire bunk bed to ash. Instead, he collapses onto the lower mattress with all the grace of a shot bird.

The view from below is worse. He can hear Sae’s every shift above him, feel the faint weight through the frame. Every creak is a reminder: you lost.

 

FROM: SAE

TO: sublet tenant

“Funny how you write about thrones when you can’t even keep a bed.”

 

Rin tears it in half. Then tapes it back together just so he can tear it apart again.

 

That night, Rin updates AO3.

The Prince loses his throne. He is forced to kneel in the shadow of the usurper. Every sound above him is proof of his defeat. He pretends not to hear. He pretends his blood isn’t singing with shame.

It’s posted at 1:43AM.

By 1:52AM, there’s already a new comment. Anonymous, as always:

Guest [lockerroom_king]:

was this inspired by your real fall?

MidfieldMeltdown:

shut up

Guest [lockerroom_king]:

lol so it was.

 

Rin slams the laptop shut. The bunk bed creaks above him, like Sae is laughing in sync with the comment.

---

[Luck Counter: 27% — Altitude Shift Detected. Control dynamics inverted. Event: “Sae Top Bunk” has begun.]

Chapter 3: Counter-Note

Summary:

Rin stops writing about rebellion and starts living it—one petty note war, one late-night DM, one heartbeat too loud at a time.

[Luck Counter: 27% → volatile. Ego notes: “First resistance detected.”]

 

Rin doesn’t sleep. Not really. He just lies awake, listening to every creak and shift above him like the bunk bed itself is mocking him.

Sae turns over once. The frame whines. Rin imagines stomping upstairs with a hammer and nails, boarding him in like a coffin.

By morning, his pillow looks strangled. His pride definitely is.

Sae descends the ladder with the grace of someone who knows he won. He doesn’t say good morning. He just drops another folded scrap of paper onto Rin’s chest and leaves for training.

 

“Try not to dream too loudly tonight. I can hear you whining from up here.”

 

Rin’s ears burn. He crushes the note in his fist, then paces the room like a caged wolf.

His AO3 drafts folder is already open. He’s halfway through a sentence about The Prince licking blood off the throne when something inside him snaps.

Not fic. Not symbolism. Real.

Rin rips a page from his notebook, scribbles furiously, and slams it onto Sae’s pillow before he can think better of it.

 

 

FROM: Rin

TO: smug asshole

“Enjoy your altitude while it lasts. Thrones topple. Beds collapse. Don’t sleep too heavy.”

 

It’s petty. It’s pathetic. It’s perfect.

By evening, Sae’s reply is taped to Rin’s lamp.

 

“Threatening structural collapse? Cute. Maybe next time try sleeping without drooling first.”

 

Rin’s jaw aches from clenching. His chest aches from something worse.

 

AO3 DMs, 11:57PM:

Guest [lockerroom_king]:

is this when the prince starts fighting back

MidfieldMeltdown:

maybe

Guest [lockerroom_king]:

finally. don’t disappoint me.

 

Rin slams the laptop shut, pulse hammering.

The bunk bed groans above him like a drumroll.

---

[Luck Counter: 41% — Resistance Registered. Event: “Counter-Note” has begun.]

Chapter 4: If You’re So Alpha, Get On the Bottom Bunk

Summary:

Rin wins the top bunk but not the war, as notes, humming, and an ill-timed lap bet blur the line between rivalry and something neither brother wants to name.

[Luck Counter: 41% → 78%]

 

Ego: “Room status update. Bunk reassignment complete. Top: Itoshi Rin. Bottom: Itoshi Sae. Dominance recalibration… inconclusive.”

 

Rin is now on the top bunk. The victory feels hollow. He didn’t win the rock-paper-scissors match — he screamed until Sae climbed down in silence and turned off the lights.

Now Sae’s under him. Breathing. Peacefully. Smugly.

Rin hasn’t slept all night. Every creak of the mattress sounds like a countdown.

He’s started writing roommate notes. They are taped to the wall like spells.

• “If you kick the wall again, I will hex your kneecaps.”
• “Breathing is not a personality trait.”
• “I know you stole the fan remote. May your pores clog forever.”

Sae starts writing back in his horrible, clean handwriting.

• “You write notes like you lost the war.”
• “Fan’s been on oscillate for 2 days. Get a grip.”
• “Also, you write fiction. I write history.”

---

MidfieldMeltdown:
You ever sit in someone’s lap and feel like they won?

saku_lockerroomking:
no

MidfieldMeltdown:
not even like metaphorically?

saku_lockerroomking:
don’t project your loser fantasies on me
also. new fic was mid

MidfieldMeltdown:
sorry I didn’t tag “loser sits in winner’s lap” as a trigger

saku_lockerroomking:
it’s not a trigger. it’s unrealistic
he wouldn’t just sit there. not unless he wanted it

MidfieldMeltdown:
so maybe he wanted it

saku_lockerroomking:
what the hell does that mean

MidfieldMeltdown:
idk. why are you asking. you said it.

---

Sae starts humming. At night.

Low. Toneless. Repetitive. Like a monk or a mosquito.

Rin nearly falls off the bunk from rage.

He whispers, “Stop humming.”

Sae hums louder.

Rin kicks the mattress slats above him in retaliation. They rattle. Sae doesn’t flinch.

The fan turns off. Rin dies a little inside.

Another note appears in the morning:
• “You think you’re on top but you’re just above.”

---

Team meeting. Ego shows a Playback Room clip.

Rin, in the background, clearly losing another game of rock-paper-scissors with Sae.

Sae taps the scoreboard with his middle finger.

Rin says, deadpan: “Fine. Winner gets the lap.”

Everyone hears it.

Everyone laughs.

Sae doesn’t. He just raises an eyebrow and writes something in his phone.

Later, in their room:

Rin throws a pillow at him. “Don’t use that line.”

Sae: “It’s from the fic.”

Rin: “You said it in real life.”

Sae: “And?”

Rin: “So what now? You expect me to sit?”

Sae: “You look like you want to.”

---

(Rin’s fic. Obsessively over-written. Slightly smutty. The lap motif reappears. It is not a metaphor anymore.)

“He won again. He always won. But this time the prize wasn’t glory or breathless distance. This time it was proximity.
Sit.
It wasn’t a request.
He obeyed. The thighs were warm. Too steady. Too calm. He wanted to ruin it.
But instead he stayed.
Stayed still. Stayed soft. Stayed wanting.”

---

They sit across from each other.

Rin tries to burn Sae alive with his eyes.

Sae is texting. Probably himself. Probably a quote from the fic.

Neither speaks. The fan turns back on.

The hierarchy remains… ambiguous.

---

[Luck Counter: 78% Alert Unlock: Slippery Slope — Rin’s obsession meter maxed—every action now triggers +tension]

Chapter 5: You Dream About Me, Don’t You?

Summary:

Rin wakes up to the consequences of a dream he didn’t want—and Sae’s impossible timing.

[Luck Counter: 78% → 83%]

Rin wakes up with his face pressed into the mattress and a catastrophic hard-on.

Which is, in itself, not unusual. What is unusual is the faint impression of something still lingering against his thighs. Heat. A pressure that shouldn’t exist. An ache in his spine that implies he was—God help him—arched.

He peels himself off the sheets like he’s being exhumed. Above him, Sae's bunk is empty. The room is quiet. His own skin is loud.

He doesn’t remember the dream exactly. Just pieces: the rough slide of a jersey between his legs. The feeling of sitting in someone’s lap. No, worse. Willingly sitting in someone’s lap. Being held there. Something was whispered into the side of his neck. Something devastating. He can't remember what it was, only that it was warm and cruel and felt like possession.

He stares at the ceiling and begins to regret ever being born.

There is a note on his desk.

Written in Sae’s loopy, slanted handwriting:

You talk in your sleep. It’s disgusting.
I liked the part where you begged.

Rin stares at it.

Then he burns it.

By which he means he folds it seventeen times and hides it in the middle of his sketchbook under a page titled AO3 Ideas - Brainworms Edition. He then writes in all caps:

I HAVE NEVER BEGGED IN MY LIFE.
FUCK YOU SAE.
WHAT DID I SAY.
I BET YOU DREAM ABOUT ME TOO.

This is a mistake. A slippery slope. A warning sign. But Rin is halfway down the mountain already, and the only thing at the bottom is Sae’s lap.

MidfieldMeltdown has updated.

New Fic: "Rules of Engagement" - Chapter 1: Proximity Trap
Tags: enemies to lovers, power play, sleep talking, lap-sitting, top/bottom war, unreliable narrator, humiliation
Summary: The roommate situation escalates. Tactical lap-sitting. Sleep crimes. Who will break first?
Excerpt:

“You don’t have to dream about me,” he whispered into his rival’s ear, the lap beneath him shifting. “I’m right here. If you want something… all you have to do is beg.”

AO3 Inbox: 1 New Message
From: saku_lockerroomking
To: MidfieldMeltdown

nice try.
still the bottom bunk.

Rin throws his phone under the bed. Then throws himself after it. Then regrets doing both.

Later that night, he sets an alarm every hour so he won’t accidentally fall asleep. He drinks four shots of espresso. He refreshes his inbox like a man waiting to be killed.

At 2:47 AM, Sae rolls over in his bunk and says, low and close to the wall:

“You kicked in your sleep. Are you mad at me, baby?”

Rin falls off the bed.

---

[Luck Counter: 83% Achievement Unlocked: Sleep Paralysis Demon (With Benefits)]

Chapter 6: You're on Thin Mattress, Freak

Summary:

Rin thought duct tape could save his top bunk. Sae’s bottom bunk has other plans—and Rin’s dignity is the first casualty

[Luck Counter: 83%]

Rin wakes up in hell.

By hell, he means the one-inch vertical descent that tells him his mattress has slid halfway off the top bunk. Again. Despite the industrial-grade duct tape. Despite the blood oath he made to gravity itself. Despite the fact that he saw Sae watching him tape it down last night.

He claws at the edge of the frame, disheveled and snarling, like a man clinging to a ledge in an action movie, except the only thing at risk is his dignity. He shoves the mattress back up with a grunt. The tape peels off like wet paper.

"You have a problem," Rin tells the empty room.

Sae, of course, is not here. Sae has vanished for his morning jog, probably to go frolic in a field of Rin’s crushed hopes and stolen back support. His bottom bunk, perfectly aligned and traitorously stable, mocks Rin from below.

When Sae returns, Rin is crouched on the top bunk, duct tape between his teeth, unspeakable rage in his eyes.

Sae raises an eyebrow. "Still sliding?"

Rin doesn’t dignify that with a response. He does, however, make direct and unflinching eye contact as he slams another strip of tape down. And then another. And another. By the time Sae’s showered and left for breakfast, Rin’s mattress looks like it’s been sealed inside a military-grade shipping container.

That night, it happens again.

The tape is gone.

Not just peeled back. Not dangling off the edges. Gone.

Rin sits upright on his bed, mattress half-dangling, hands twitching at his sides like he’s ready to strangle someone with ghost tape. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t move. He just lies in wait.

Sae breathes evenly in his bed. Like an angel. Like someone without secrets.

The next day, Rin strikes back.

He creeps to Sae’s bed during training. Peels back a corner of the mattress. Strategically removes one slat. Then another. Then—

“Rin.”

Rin whirls.

Sae is standing in the doorway.

Holding a single piece of duct tape.

“You dropped this,” he says.

Rin stares at him. Then the bed. Then the tape. He takes it like a soldier being handed a white flag.

The next team meeting is about strategic formations. Which is why Ego is reading aloud from a fanfiction.

“‘He wanted to ruin him. To press him down into the mattress until he broke—’”

“Coach,” Bachira says, blinking. “Is that from AO3?”

“It’s an example of poor tag usage,” Ego says, cool as ice. “Notice the lack of warnings. And the structural incoherence. This isn’t a tactical breakdown. It’s an emotional breakdown.”

Rin is dying. Rin is already dead.

Sae’s eyes flick toward him. "Sounds familiar."

Rin snaps his head up. “What?”

Sae blinks, expression blank. “I said it sounds formulaic.”

Rin considers committing a tactical murder.

That night, there’s a new sticky note taped to Sae’s pillow.

Are you stalking me.

It’s signed with a doodle of a knife.

Sae writes back:

Only the good parts.

AO3 DM:

saku_lockerroomking: you ever gonna write a fic where he wins?

MidfieldMeltdown: define win

saku_lockerroomking: he gets what he wants. he gets to ruin you.

MidfieldMeltdown: sounds like a loss

saku_lockerroomking: so you admit he’s based on you

MidfieldMeltdown: i admit nothing

saku_lockerroomking: you’re on thin mattress

MidfieldMeltdown: what does that even mean

saku_lockerroomking: you’ll find out

 

The next morning, Rin wakes up duct-taped to the top bunk mattress.

He screams. Sae hums from the bottom bunk.

The mattress does not slide.

---

[Luck Counter: New Perk Unlocked: Duct Tape Mastery 89%]

Chapter 7: Lap Privileges Pending

[Luck Counter: 89% ]

Rin wakes up crying.

No one sees it, obviously. He’s good at muffling the ugly parts — jaw clenched, spine rigid, knees still trembling from whatever horror his subconscious unearthed while the rest of him kept performing sleep.

The nightmare doesn’t fade. It calcifies.

In it, Sae was seated on Ego’s throne, legs crossed, chin on his knuckle. Rin had been summoned like a naughty schoolboy — not that he’d done anything. Not that it mattered. Dream logic didn’t care about plausibility, it cared about humiliation.

He stood there, knees wobbling in his training shorts, while Sae stared at him like he wasn’t real. Rin tried to speak. Apologize. Perform. But the words never came.

Then Sae patted his lap.

A single, slow motion. Like this is what you are now. Like come here, sit, be still, be good.

Rin sat.

The moment his weight hit Sae’s thighs, his own body dissolved into static. Every nerve ending misfired. His skin felt borrowed. He couldn’t tell if he was being punished or praised — if he was a pet or a prince or a plaything.

When he woke, his pillow was damp.
His thighs ached from tension.
His pride had already self-immolated.

He doesn’t tell Sae, obviously. That would involve speaking. Or looking him in the eye. Or behaving like a normal roommate and not a criminal hiding a murder weapon in the AO3 drafts folder.

Instead, Rin leaves the Dream Journal out by accident. Like he always does when he wants to be punished.

Sae notices. Like he always does when he wants to make it worse.

There’s a new roommate note taped directly over it by the time Rin finishes his shower.

FROM: SAE
to: delulu boy
“New kink unlocked: lap-humiliation. Didn’t know you were into daddy’s chair.”

Rin crumples it instantly. Then smooths it back out with trembling fingers.

Because underneath the text, Sae has drawn a crude doodle of himself on a throne — smug smile, anime sparkles — with a smaller stick-figure Rin curled up on his lap, tears labeled: “flavored.”

Rin eats the note. He actually tears it into strips and chews them with his eyes closed.

AO3 DMs, 2AM:

saku_lockerroomking: was this one inspired by real events
MidfieldMeltdown: which part
saku_lockerroomking: the lap thing
MidfieldMeltdown: oh. maybe
saku_lockerroomking: sick. i’m going to bed
MidfieldMeltdown: you’re reading this in bed
saku_lockerroomking: sick AND correct

---

The new fanfic update is the most unhinged yet. The readers hate it. Sae reads it five times.

It’s written like a fever dream: perspective shifting, timelines overlapping, reality breaking under the weight of its own symbolism. “The Prince” character no longer knows which narrative he belongs to. He’s powerful and pathetic. He gets everything he wants, and it destroys him.

And in the throne room — now a recurring location, apparently — The Prince doesn’t sit on Sae’s lap. He tries to, but the throne devours him. Or Sae disappears. Or Rin wakes up.

The symbolism is barely metaphor anymore. It's pornography written by a ghost.

Sae doesn’t comment on the update.

Instead, he leaves another note.

FROM: SAE
“He’s too strong now. It’s unrealistic. You’re writing him like he wins.”

Rin reads it four times.

Then writes:
“Maybe he’s just finally playing the game right.”

---

[Luck Counter: 95% — New Perk Unlock: Throne Room Advantage]

Chapter 8: Get On the Bed or Get Out of My Fic

Summary:

Ego puts Rin’s AO3 on the projector, Sae makes it worse, and the Luck Counter spikes.

 

[Luck Counter: 89% → 99%]

The meeting starts normally — for Ego’s definition of normal, which is “emotionally waterboarding everyone with PowerPoint transitions.” Rin is zoning out, eyes fixed on a particularly violent pie chart, when Ego changes slides.

It’s not a slide.

It’s a sentence.

“He wanted to be thrown onto the bed like a ragdoll and destroyed.”

The room exhales in slow, horrified unison.

Bachira tilts his head. “Is this… tactical?”

Kurona mutters, “That’s AO3 formatting.”

Ego, expression flat, clicks the laser pointer. “Poor structural integrity. Excessive adverbs. Lack of realistic build-up. None of you should be inspired by this.”

Rin’s pulse tries to claw its way out of his neck.

“This is… I didn’t—this isn’t—”

“No one accused you,” Isagi says, which is functionally the same as accusing him.

Chigiri leans forward. “What kind of fic is this, exactly?”

“Bad,” Rin snaps. “The bad kind. Moving on.”

“Yeah, but bad how?” Bachira asks, delighted. “Like… bad?”

By the time the meeting ends, Rin has sweat through the armpits of his hoodie and made direct eye contact with precisely zero people. He bolts for the hallway. Which is exactly where Sae is waiting.

“You forgot to tag this one,” Sae says.

Rin blinks. “I didn’t write it.”

Sae leans in, close enough to smell smugness under his cologne. “Then why are you so hard?”

Rin’s entire nervous system bluescreens.

“I’m not,” he hisses, shoving past.

Sae glances down. “You are.”

Rin seriously considers dying in the stairwell. Instead, he stomps back to their room and shoves his laptop under his blanket like it’s a dead body.

---

AO3 DM:

MidfieldMeltdown: it’s not about you
saku_lockerroomking: lol
MidfieldMeltdown: it’s not
saku_lockerroomking: sounds about me tho

 

---

The next fic update drops that night. It’s different this time — slower, warmer, almost careful in the way it dismantles The Prince.

The Prince wanted to be ruined, but not broken. Wanted the hand on his throat, but also the kiss at his temple. Wanted to be told he was nothing, while being held like he was everything.

Sae scrolls to the end without blinking.

When Rin emerges from the shower, Sae is still reading.

“It’s worse when you try to be sweet,” he says without looking up.

Rin’s towel nearly slips. “I’m not—”

“You are.”

Rin slams the bathroom door hard enough to shake the duct tape on his mattress.

---

[Luck Counter: 99% — New Perk Unlocked: Emotional Critical Hit]

Chapter 9: The Heat Death of Common Sense

Summary:

Locked in, overheated, Rin and Sae finally combust—with catastrophic furniture damage.

Ego Lab Feed: Surveillance Playback | LUCK 99% → 100%
Summary: Locked in, overheated, Rin and Sae finally combust—with catastrophic furniture damage.

SUBJECTS: Itoshi Rin / Itoshi Sae
ROOM: 4A
LAP EVENT: 99%

NOTES:
 • Subject Rin exhibits “avoidant” but “lap-oriented” behavior
 • Subject Sae exhibits “nonchalant” but “possessive” reactions
 • Top/Sub Graph: oscillating. Spikes at ~96% indicate power inversion

Uploading AO3 Insert: “The Prince, cornered, chose to kneel.”

Recalculating heat levels.
Recalculating fate.

---

The door doesn’t open.

Rin slams the button. Jabs it. Kicks it.

Nothing.

He snarls and throws his whole body at the doorframe like a pathfinding NPC with a grudge. “Let me out!”

Behind him, Sae doesn’t even flinch. He’s sitting cross-legged on the lower bunk, peeling a strip of duct tape from his arm with monk-like serenity.

“This is embarrassing,” Sae says flatly.

“You broke it,” Rin hisses.

“I didn’t touch anything.”

“You broke the door—”

The speaker dings. Ego’s voice cuts in with all the mechanical cheer of an airport PA system.

 “There appears to be a temporary malfunction with the electric coupling on your floor. Our team is working to resolve the issue. Please remain calm.”

“You did this,” Rin growls, spinning like a cursed Roomba. “You’ve been trying to kill me since I was twelve—”

Sae yawns. “Then why are you still alive?”

Rin storms to the thermostat. Clicks it down to 22°C. Waits.

The screen flickers.

ERROR: SYSTEM LOCKED

He turns. Sae is already shirtless.

“What the fuck.”

“It’s hot,” Sae says, rolling his neck like he’s winding up for something. “Why is it so hot?”

“Because you broke the thermostat.”

“You think I have the power to destroy thermodynamics?”

“I think you have the power to ruin everything.”

“That’s fair.”

Eventually, they both give up. The air is swamp-thick. Rin’s shirt clings like a punishment. Sae fans himself with Rin’s tactical schedule and lounges on the bunk like a disaster in repose.

Rin, being an idiot, sits beside him.

Shoulder to shoulder. Knee to knee.

Sae flicks the edge of the paper. “Left my phone in Ego’s office.”

Rin rolls his eyes. “So what? You’re gonna die without Candy Crush?”

“I’m bored,” Sae says, flat. Then: “Let me watch something on yours.”

Rin exhales through his teeth, already regretting it. “Fine. One video.”

“Porn?”

“Soccer,” Rin snaps, unlocking his phone.

The livestream starts. Sae leans in. Closer than necessary. Close enough that Rin feels breath on his cheek and every nerve in his spine lights up in protest.

A bead of sweat slips down his jaw. Plinks onto the screen.

“You’re leaking,” Sae says.

“You’re breathing on my neck.”

“Do you think I want to be this close to your damp little goblin body?”

“Then move.”

“Make me.”

Rin jerks sideways. Sae shifts closer.

“You’re getting flustered,” Sae murmurs.

“You’re getting punched.”

“You’re hard.”

“I’m—” Rin swings an elbow. Sae grabs his wrist. They scuffle.

The phone flies. Sae grabs it. Rolls. Sprawls across the mattress like he owns it.

“Problem solved.”

“You are the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

“Give it back.”

“Come and get it.”

Rin lunges.

Their bodies crash.

The mattress groans beneath them like it knows.

Rin straddles him, pinning his thighs, but Sae laughs—low and pleased—and sits up. Right into Rin’s lap.

The shift is intimate. Awful. Perfect.

Their chests press together, breath locking in unison. Sae’s arm curls lazily around Rin’s neck. Rin fists a hand in Sae’s waistband. Neither of them means to grind, but they do. Once.

Then again.

Then like they can’t help it.

Heat slides between them, sharp and frantic, nothing filtered or strategic. Rin’s hips jerk forward. Sae’s thighs tighten around him. One of them gasps. One of them moans.

They’re not sure who.

It’s aggressive, uncoordinated—pure friction and nerve endings, sweat and breath and years of tension dragged to the surface.

Sae grabs Rin’s hair, yanks his head back, and breathes directly into his mouth.

“You wanted this,” he says. “You wrote this.”

“Shut up,” Rin pants.

“Make me.”

Rin does.

Their mouths never meet, but everything else does. It’s clumsy, brutal, dry but desperate. Sae rolls his hips with the control of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing—and hates that it works.

Rin can’t stop.

Sae won’t let him.

It’s over in seconds.

Sae goes tense with a silent curse, biting down on Rin’s shoulder. Rin stiffens in his lap with a groan he tries to swallow. They lock together, mouths open, lungs burning, nothing spoken.

Then—

The bed collapses.

A full-body metal shriek, the universe snapping. The lower bunk gives way with catastrophic finality, frame splitting like fate itself has reached its limit.

Sae hits the floor flat on his back. Rin lands hard on top, still straddling him. Sae is breathless. Red-faced. Legs still around Rin’s hips like a vice grip he forgot to release.

They don’t move.

They don’t speak.

Then the door hisses open.

Ego’s voice arrives like a guillotine.

 “Maintenance complete.”

Silence.

The world tilts.

Rin’s sweat drips onto Sae’s chest. His thighs are shaking. Sae’s hand is still fisted in the hem of his shirt.

“…Next time,” Rin whispers, hoarse and wrecked, “we kill each other first.”

---

[ LUCK Counter: 100% — EVENT TRIGGERED: Two Dicks Rubbing Together]

Notes:

Event Triggered: Two Dicks Rubbing Together. Counter maxed. Bed broken. Pride? Irretrievable. Ego’s spreadsheets may never recover.

But don’t get comfortable—Arc 3 begins soon. Call it fake dating, but there’s nothing fake about Rin getting bent in half in front of an audience while Sae pretends this is “just training.” Public humiliation. Prophetic fanfiction. Sae's sweat soaked towel hidden under Rin's pillow. It only gets worse from here.

Also: side quest unlocked. If you’ve ever wondered what happens when two dicks actually do rub together… well. it’s real, it’s cursed, and it’s live.

👉 Two Dicks Rubbing Together

(handle with care. motion sickness is part of the experience.)

See you in Arc 3. Bring mats. Bring popcorn. Maybe don’t bring dignity—it won’t survive.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of My Brother's Worst Fan