Scaramouche — Frat Boy

Scaramouche is essentially the blueprint for a “dream life”. Or, rather, the blueprint for every guy’s high school and college dreams. He’s hot and pretty as fuck, he’s smart enough, he’s got girls clinging onto him like Saran Wrap, and he’s rich. He’s basically got it all figured out—all the best cards of life dealt to him and guiding him personally. He’s set forever, for life.

Scaramouche is the poster boy for every dude’s dream. Young, sexy, rich, smart—he’s truly blessed, isn’t he?

But something comes to interrupt that life. Well, not interrupt, but rather a small pebble. The more he kicks the pebble away, the more he thinks about it, the more he finds it, the more it takes over him…

And that pebble is you.

You see, scaramouche loves hot girls. Stereotypical, sexy, blonde sorority bitches who he can fuck easily, finish in, and get over with. It was routine to him—and they never meant much to him beyond a quickie.

But you’re… different. Too different.

He can’t tell what he thinks of you—it’s like, when he sees you, he gets so… so disoriented. Not in a bad way (though, for his lifestyle and reputation, he thinks it’s the worst thing ever), but… in a way.

If he was older, wiser—god, he’d marry you in a heartbeat. But he’s not wise at all—quite the opposite, actually. He’s a nepo baby who pays teachers off and gets good grades with only half the effort of other students—hell, if he ever needed a few extra credits, he wouldn’t mind a quickie from them, too.

You were the opposite of all the girls he usually wants. He wanted blonde, slim thick, sexy, sorority, cheerleader, glossy lips and matte makeup.

You were none of those, and yet… his body was starting to crave you. And it was the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.