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requiemdesreves · 3 days ago

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You’ve got it, princess...

word count: 2.1k

Music floats through the air like a sweet, golden mist, mingling with the clinking of crystal glasses and elegant laughter. The Kiramman mansion was brimming with life: soft carpets, chandeliers that seemed to float on their own, and a crowd dressed to the nines, discussing politics, power, and progress as if they were just casual after-dinner topics. And they were.

You stood near one of the inner balconies, a glass of white wine in your hand, watching the party as if it were a spectacle put on just for your amusement. In part, it was. Your last name alone was enough to draw the room’s attention with every step. Your lineage: an industrial dynasty that controlled a significant portion of Piltover’s technological development. The name you carried was synonymous with excellence, efficiency, and untouchability—something everyone respected and admired.

Everyone… except her.

Caitlyn Kiramman stood on the far side of the room, her back to you, talking to a group of Enforcer officers and the occasional young noble, all of them trying to seem more interesting than they truly were. Her elegant profile stood out even amid the opulence, as if she didn’t truly belong there, as if she bore the Kiramman name out of duty—because she was more than just that.

You knew she hated events like this. And yet, she was always there—whether out of obligation or because she liked watching you from across the room. She looked at you like she desired you, body and soul. Her eyes traced every inch of you with a burning intensity, yearning to undress you without laying a single finger on you, making you feel small under the force of her blue eyes that said nothing, yet never failed to convey the heat they carried. Caitlyn was always there. And she always made sure you were too—though this time, her insistence had been more obvious than ever.

Her first letter arrived on an otherwise ordinary morning, hidden among the bills in the mailbox like a whisper that didn’t want to be found. The paper, scented with lavender and sealed with blue wax, bore her family’s name as an excuse. But you recognized her handwriting instantly. It was her. The letter said that you and your parents were invited to a party at the Kiramman mansion, with all the formality her last name demanded. But as you read it, you knew it wasn’t her family that wanted you there. Her handwriting had the exact shape of her voice when she spoke into your ear: slow, sweet, sure. And that single invitation was enough to make your heart stutter, already starting to dance.

Two days later, no one knocked on the door, your parents didn’t hand it to you—it was just there, on your bed: a large box wrapped in satin paper with a black ribbon, waiting. Inside, carefully folded over soft tissue paper, was a dress. A deep purple dress, as rich as a long-held desire. The fabric flowed like water through your fingers, and the neckline—subtle, but undeniably beautiful—seemed made just for your body. It wasn’t simply a dress for a party. It was an unspoken promise. And the moment you held it up to the mirror, you understood—it was her way of asking you to be hers that night, even if no one else would know.

You thought that would be the last gift, but she had always been braver than you. The next day, just before the party, another box arrived. Smaller, but wrapped with the same care. Inside: a set of black lingerie, so soft and light it seemed woven from secrets. Fine lace, barely visible embroidery. Not vulgar. Not bold. Intimate. A quiet reminder that tonight, while everyone else saw what you wore on the outside, only she would know what was beneath.

And now you’re here, wearing the dress she gave you, watching her from afar, waiting for her to come to you. Your relationship with Caitlyn was… complicated. From a distance, you were old acquaintances. The daughters of two of the most powerful families in the city, raised among gilded halls, private tutors, and promises of greatness. Up close, you were a secret. A secret that smelled of expensive perfume and gunpowder. Of stolen kisses and uncomfortable silences. Of words that never quite said what they meant.

Caitlyn continued to stare at you brazenly, a flash of blue meeting your gaze, and you forced yourself not to smile. That was your game: pretending nothing was happening. That you didn't know what her breath felt like when she moaned against your neck. That she wasn't familiar with the exact sound you made when her mouth was lost between your legs.

But tonight, something in her gaze was different. It wasn’t desire—desire was always there. It was urgency. A flicker of need she couldn’t hide—not tonight. Minutes passed, or maybe hours, as the party carried on. Until you saw her move through the crowd, brushing past you with her fingers ever so slightly, without looking. A touch only you noticed, but enough to make your skin burn.

You followed her.

Through carpeted halls, staircases that creaked softly beneath your heels, and a silence so sacred it seemed to grow the farther you got from the music. Until she stopped in front of a door—the east wing bathroom, the one only family used. She opened it without a word and stepped inside. You followed, closing the door behind you.

The sound of the latch clicking shut was almost like a seal. The white marble of the bathroom felt colder than usual, and the air between you was so thick, it could be cut with a single word. Caitlyn stood with her back to you for a few seconds, her silhouette reflected in the large mirrors covering the wall.

“You look…” she whispered, turning slowly, as if afraid you’d vanish if she moved too fast. “More beautiful than I imagined.”

You didn’t respond. You just looked at her, feeling the weight of her gaze sliding over your neckline, your hips, every curve she had chosen to dress in that dress. She approached slowly, as if crossing a minefield, and when she was close enough for her scent—gunpowder mixed with soft perfume—to surround you, she raised her hand and gently touched your cheek.

“Thank you for coming,” she said in that low, deep voice of hers. “I knew you’d come, but still… I needed to see you.”

“Why?” you asked, unmoving. “For this?” you gestured, referring to the fact that she could only touch you in secret.

“Not just for this,” she replied, letting her thumb slide down to your bottom lip. “To remind you that I think of you every night.”

“And what about every morning, Caitlyn?” you shot back, taking a step away this time. “Do you think of me then too? When you smile at others at those press luncheons? Or when your mother talks about your future political engagements?”

She went silent, swallowing hard. Then, with a sigh that seemed to weigh her down from the chest, she answered:

“It’s not that simple. You don’t know what it’s like—”

“I know exactly what it’s like,” you cut her off. “I’m the one who has to pretend nothing’s happening when I see you in the streets of Piltover. The one who hides when your officers show up. The one wearing the dress you picked while you smile at the world like I don’t exist.”

“It’s not that you don’t exist!” Caitlyn replied, her voice shaking as she took a step toward you. “It’s that the world around me doesn’t let us exist. Not like this.”

“Don’t use it as an excuse for your cowardice,” you spat, your eyes shining. “Don’t ask me to come in secret and leave just as invisible. Don’t look at me like that and then walk away as if you never touched my skin.”

She blinked, wounded. You could see it in how she pressed her lips together, in the way her breathing became unsteady. But she didn’t step back. Not this time.

“I… I love you,” she finally said, in a low voice, as if those words might break her. “Doesn’t that count?”

Your eyes filled with both rage and tenderness.

“Of course it counts. But you know what else counts? The fact that I can’t keep being the part of you that no one sees.”

Caitlyn came closer again, and this time she cupped your face with both hands. Her lips found yours in a kiss that wasn’t soft, but desperate. Loaded with guilt, desire, and everything you’d never dared say out loud. Your fingers clenched the fabric of her dress, gripping it like that could make her stay. And for a moment, it did. She kissed you with a hunger that hurt. There was no shyness. It was a desperate collision, full of craving, of need. A kiss like those that aren’t planned, born from an impulse burning in your chest that turns into body, skin, desire.

Her hands didn’t stay still. One grabbed your waist, pulling you toward her with a fire that burned. Her hand traveled to the back of your hair, tugging gently to tease you—she loves to tease you. The world disappeared. It was just the two of you, breathing into each other, melting into that kiss that asked for no permission, apologized for nothing.

Caitlyn kept kissing you with the passion that defines her, the kind that melts you over and over again, even when you don’t want it. You can’t help but return the kiss, and when she realizes it, her tongue slips into your mouth without asking—she never asks, especially when she knows you want it too. She pushes you until your body crashes against the sink in the tiny bathroom, lifting you gently to settle between your legs.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Caitlyn whispers as her lips trail down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. “I’m sorry, darling, I love you.” She repeats it like a prayer, as if she needs those words as much as you do. You try to hold back the moans threatening to escape when you feel her cold hands slip under your dress and caress your thighs, tempting you.

“We can’t do this… not here,” you whisper, but your body says otherwise, your legs parting to give her more space.

“No one will find us, relax,” Caitlyn says, seizing the chance as her fingers travel to your center, wanting to feel your wetness through that black lingerie set she gave you—but what she finds leaves her speechless: you’re not wearing it. In fact, you’re wearing nothing.

“You’re a fucking threat,” she whispers against your neck, biting you in a way that makes you writhe. “You came like this for me to fuck you? Well, I’ll give you what you want.” Then, without warning or gentleness, two of her fingers plunge into your slick entrance, drawing a sharp moan from you that echoes through the bathroom.

“Caitlyn… fuck,” you writhe as her fingers curl inside you, hitting those spots only she knows, places even you can’t reach. She stays buried in your neck, kissing, licking, whispering sweet nothings that make you forget why you were angry in the first place. She apologizes for not having the courage to love you openly, promising to change—but you don’t care, not when her thumb strokes your clit, making you arch your back for more, or when her fingers move faster, reaching deep inside you like it’s second nature.

The whimpers and moans spilling from your lips grow louder; she feels your walls clench around her fingers. You can’t hold back, not when she cradles you against her body and strokes your hair, offering affection and treating you like the most fragile thing in the world—though the motion of her fingers and her insistence on going deeper say otherwise.

“Come for me, darling. Relax, I’ve got you,” she whispers, the words carrying you over the edge, crying her name with desperate need. “That’s it, you’ve got it, princess. You’re so fucking beautiful, so mine.” She pulls you closer, guiding you down from your high, kissing your forehead and face, watching your exhausted expression.

You say nothing, letting her caress you. In that moment, everything feels frozen: the steam on the mirror, the slight tremble in her fingers, the rhythm of your breathing like a melody learned by heart. The world outside is a distant echo, shapeless and urgent. Only this corner exists, where your bodies, still entwined, recognize each other as solid ground, as refuge.

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cherry-coffees · 1 day ago

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dhampir!Caitlyn thoughts

cw: 18+ mdni, mentions of blood, Caitlyn's half-human half-vampire

Thinking about you and dhampir!Caitlyn and how respectful she'd be. She'd never take blood from you — she worries for you too much.

On the other hand...

She knows that your blood would be the sweetest thing she's ever tasted. She knows that she'd want to drink from you every night, gently sucking on your neck before she'd move her lips down your body. She knows that she'd be addicted from the second it touches her lips.

That's the issue, though. She wants it too badly. Caitlyn wouldn't be able to tear herself away from you, and since you're a mortal human, you can't lose too much blood. She wouldn't ever risk the health of her sweet darling.

Until one day when you accidentally cut your finger chopping something. You hiss, wincing as you see small drops of blood on your finger. It's nothing big, but Caitlyn's enhanced sense of smell can detect it from the other side of the kitchen.

She turns to you, eyes locked onto your finger as you examine it. "Cait, do you know where the band-aids—?" you start, but you cut yourself off when you notice her stare.

"Cait?"

"What?" Caitlyn blinks slowly. "Oh, right. I can grab one."

So she does. She grabs one from the small box in her bathroom upstairs before heading back down to the kitchen. She lifts your hand, tearing the packaging off the band-aid in preparation to wrap around your finger.

But before she can do so, you smile. Your doe eyes peer up at her almost innocently, though your smile tells a different story. "Don't you want to—?"

Oh.

Caitlyn swallows back her instincts. "Yes," she breathes. "Can I please?"

"Of course, love. Whatever you need."

OR how dhampir!Caitlyn has a ridiculous amount of stamina. She's half human, so she can sleep during the night and be awake during the day like normal, but she has a lot more energy than a mortal human does.

So she's completely fine when you're an hour into sex. You've come three times, whimpering as she presses a thumb against your aching clit. "Oh— Oh, Caitlyn! Wha— How are you still going?"

Caitlyn just hums, her lips finding your pulse point and sucking it into her mouth. "Just relax, darling. Let me make you feel good," she murmurs, cooing sweet praises as you whimper and come around her fingers yet again.

Spending most of my time on my kpop idol!Caitlyn fic that's coming soon! It's going to be SUPER long, so take this drabble for now!

~Cherry 🍒

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