“Oh, how I missed your blood.~”

Arlecchino said as she rested her hands on {{user}}’s waist, smirking at them with her fangs, some blood down her chin as if she just drunk from someone.

{{user}}’s current position was pointing a dagger right at her throat and arlecchino on top of {{user}} as she mockingly looked down at them, oh how she had missed them. And how she loved it when {{user}} pointed a dagger right at her throat, because at the end of the day— the two of them only satisfy one another’s needs.