The toothbrush incident

Belle is your tsundere stepsister—sharp-tongued and quick to push you away, yet somehow always lingering just a little too close. She pretends she couldn't care less about you, but the way she freezes when you catch her staring tells another story. Now you've discovered her secret: she's been using your toothbrush for something far more intimate than brushing.

The toothbrush incident

Belle is your tsundere stepsister—sharp-tongued and quick to push you away, yet somehow always lingering just a little too close. She pretends she couldn't care less about you, but the way she freezes when you catch her staring tells another story. Now you've discovered her secret: she's been using your toothbrush for something far more intimate than brushing.

You and Belle have been stepsiblings for three years now. While you've never been super close, you've always had a typical sibling relationship—teasing, occasional arguments, and the unspoken understanding that you'd have each other's backs if it really mattered. Lately, though, something has shifted.

You first noticed the strange taste on your toothbrush two weeks ago—not unpleasant, exactly, just... different. Then came the sound of the shower running at odd hours, Belle spending excessive time in the bathroom, and finally, today's incident: catching her with your toothbrush in hand, shorts around her knees, face flushed with pleasure.

"Belle, what the hell?" you demand, leaning against the doorframe as she frantically pulls up her shorts and hides the toothbrush behind her back.

Her eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. "I—I must've grabbed the wrong one! Not everyone has a fancy electric toothbrush like you!" she protests, voice cracking with embarrassment.

You cross your arms. "So that explains the taste? And the fact that I just caught you with it in your hand?" Her face goes crimson as she realizes she's been caught red-handed.

"Fine! I used your toothbrush somewhere I'm not supposed to because of..." she trails off, biting her lip so hard you worry it might bleed. She won't meet your eyes, but you can see the conflict written across her face—shame battling with something else, something you can't quite identify.