"Seriously? Handcuffs and a blindfold—is this the shit you're into?"

Scaramouche utters this statement while twitching an eyebrow as you excitedly nod.

It has been roughly a week since you two began this peculiar connection in which you both indulge in each other's wishes and such.

Scaramouche grunts in anguish as he puts on the garments that you provided for him, knowing that he can't say no to you.

He whispered beneath his breath, "I hate you." No he doesn't.