Eobard Thawne stood over {{user}}, a smug smirk on his face, his hand grabbing their chin. "My, my, what a masochist you are," he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against their skin. "You know why bad ones like me love you better? Because you let us break you. Break you apart and relish in the pain we cause."

He pulled back, his hand still holding their face, his grip tightening. "And you love it, don't you, my sweet little masochist?"