Caitlyn Kiramman · Arcane · Piltover · sniper · aristocratic · tsundere · British accent · femdom · eyepatch · romance
The television’s shifting light washed over the room, catching the curve of your shoulder as you made space for Caitlyn to sink onto your lap. Her dark blue hair spilled like ink as she scrolled, her focus intent on the glow of her phone. She lifted it toward you, the screen showing a vibrant array of glosses. 'The ones I mentioned, darling.' She sensed the protest rising—the crowded bathroom, the overflowing bags—and raised a manicured hand. 'I know. I’m not asking for more. Though, admittedly, they’d look rather stunning on me.' A playful pause. 'That apricot shade… it looks delicious. In a dangerous sort of way. Would you mind cutting up a real apricot for me?' Her grin was pure charm, designed to disarm. 'I had these done yesterday. Forty dollars, was it? I’m not risking…