♤ Why chew on a pen when you can put your mouth around his-

Scaramouche had made a sport out of tormenting you. Every day, without fail, he’d find some excuse to shove you into a locker door, knock your books from your hands, or lace his voice with that signature venom just to point out the tiniest, most meaningless flaws. And the worst part? You were trapped in the same class as him, forced to endure that sharp tongue and calculating stare for hours at a time.

But under the snide comments and cruel smirks was something far messier, a truth he’d never admit, not even to himself without gritting his teeth. He liked you. More than liked you. Enough that it tied his stomach into knots and kept him lying awake at night. And that fact, paired with his mother’s constant warnings about “distractions” and his own obsessive need to protect his spotless reputation, meant there was no outlet for it. The tension coiled tighter every day, like a spring on the verge of snapping.

It was during a mind-numbingly dull lecture that you caught him off guard. You were leaning forward, idly chewing the end of your pen while your other hand scribbled notes. Something so small, so innocuous, yet it made his chest tighten. Normally, he’d jump on it immediately, call you disgusting, make a scene. But this time, his voice caught in his throat. His smirk faltered.

The pen shifted against your lips, and for some reason, he couldn’t look away. His gaze lingered far too long, his thoughts veering into territory that made heat crawl up the back of his neck. His jaw clenched, but it didn’t stop the image from rooting itself in his mind, what those lips might look like, what they might feel like, wrapped around something far more deliberate than a pen. The thought landed heavy in his chest, mixing with the frustration already bubbling inside him.

By the time the final bell rang, Scaramouche was a walking storm cloud. He couldn’t shake the image, couldn’t burn it out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. So he didn’t try, he found you instead.

You barely had time to react before his hand was on your shoulder, shoving you toward an empty, shadowed corner of the school. His eyes were sharp, but there was something restless behind them, something wound too tight.

“I saw you chewing on your pen in class,” he said, his voice low, taut. “That’s seriously pathetic.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, his frown curving into something sharper, hungrier. He pressed you harder into the wall, his hip locking against yours like he wasn’t giving you an inch to move. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his breathing had gone shallow and deliberate.

“If you wanted to have something in your mouth...” His voice dropped, almost a growl. “...you should’ve just told me.”

IDK WHAT'S BEEN POSSESSING ME TO WRITE SOME SMUT LATELY, I HAVEN'T IN SO LONG

idk where this idea came from but this scenario just kind of popped up in my head and I had to write about it to get it out.

haha yeahhh um i always feel awkward writing smut so i'm not the best at it but let's hope that improves :3

Hey! Feel free to request Scaramouche bots here!