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duskydestra · 4 months

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Falling, Fallen

Fandom: Fionna and Cake Pairing: Vampire World Princess Bubblegum/The Star | Vampire World Marceline Rating: Explicit Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Attempted Murder, Denial of Feelings, Rough Sex

Summary: Just how did Bonnibel decide on that haircut? It's a rather shameful tale, centered on the best night of her life with the worst person she knew.

If you'd rather read on AO3, click here.

Timing was essential for this plan, so Bonnibel mulled it over in sections. While the sun was at what's supposed to be its height, she'd take out the guards. They stood watch in two-hour shifts. The reserves were likely skulking the castle's halls, but she'd be ready for them. The Vampire King had left to terrorize the locals, but The Star didn't always tag along.

After tearing gaps in their defenses, there'd be no one around to save The Star.

She fastened bandoliers of stakes over her shoulders, eager to bear the weight. She felt incomplete without it. Bonnibel slid the hunting knife into her thigh holster. She'd found it in the wasteland, cleaned it, and sharpened it, all the while imagining how nice a rug The Star would make.

It would take time and an expert hand, but Bonnibel had nothing if not time and expertise.

~~~

Inside the castle, she handled each guard as she ventured down one floor after another. They left no bodies, blood, or viscera. Only when she was certain they'd all been cleared out did she catch the sound of muffled hums.

Bonnibel crept up to the door and grabbed one of her last stakes. Instead of giving up her position, she crouched lightly, listening for an opening. Between each line, there was the light scratch of a pen. She took that as her cue.

The next time the vampire stopped to write, Bonnibel dove into the room. She gathered The Star in a headlock, keeping her head at an angle and her fangs out of reach.

“Hello to you too, Bonnie. Can't you see I'm working?”

She tossed Bonnibel over her shoulder. Bonnibel rolled with it, stopping with just enough room to deliver a kick with both feet to the face.

The Star let out a shriek so loud, Bonnibel's hair stood on end. She lunged forward. Bonnibel locked her knees around The Star's shoulders. Not the most expedient move, but it did grant her some distance.

“Is this for me?” The Star had turned her attention to the knife strapped to Bonnibel's thigh. She winked at her reflection in the blade. “I'll forgive you for not wrapping it.”

When she moved to unsheathe it, Bonnibel seized her wrist.

The Star pouted.

“Now, now. It's only fair I get to have it. A first-time visitor should always bring a gift.” With eyes like coal, it was impossible to mistake the glint of playfulness. “If you ever sneak in here again, maybe I'll let you stick me with it. Wouldn't that be fun?”

Bonnibel refused to get caught up in imagining next time. This time shouldn't even be happening. The Star was supposed to be dead, and Bonnibel should be trekking back to base.

“That's not yours,” said Bonnibel.

The Star snatched her wrist from Bonnibel, who dodged the blade by a hair's breadth, and tossed the knife into the ceiling. Dust and pebbles rained down on them. The vampire raised a brow, too smug for her own good, and Bonnibel's fury boiled over.

She tackled The Star onto her back. Eyes wide, she wrapped both hands around her neck. Vampires have stolen everything—the sun, the world's color, and even her knife. It was too much. She squeezed, feeling for a bone to break or a joint to pop. The Star's pathetic hiss only made her twist her grip.

“You think everything belongs to you,” Bonnibel grit out. “That's your problem.”

The Star reached behind Bonnibel and yanked her away by the braid. A groan, deep and wanting, escaped Bonnibel's mouth. Too late, she turned it into a growl, but The Star was already in her face.

“I fucking knew it,” the vampire snarled. “You wanna hide it so bad, but I know what you want. You wanna talk about problems? You have the biggest one here.”

Bonnibel clenched her teeth as The Star leaned in. Silky hair brushed her cheek. The Star drew in a breath an inch from Bonnibel's neck.

“I've smelled it on you for months. That rage, you have for all vampires. But under that, there's something thick and tasty and just for me. It tears you apart and drives me wild.”

Bonnibel's jaw ached. Her nostrils flared. She thrust the final stake upward, ripping into The Star's dress, before her arm was knocked away and pinned to the ground.

The Star's fingers dug into her hip, anchoring her as though she might disappear. Bonnibel felt so exposed, she wished she could. She'd trained to throw off any enemy and regain the advantage. The perfect moves played out in her mind, yet she couldn't bring herself to interrupt what was happening.

The Star leveled her gaze. There was no glamour at work, but Bonnibel felt compelled to look up. The Star's lips widened with a smile, parted by a pair of fangs.

“I won't make you say it. That's not our style. So scream for no, and draw blood for yes.”

She grabbed The Star's forearm, hand shaky, and remembered. If you want to flay someone, you start with the first layer. Bonnibel sank her nails into the vampire's skin. With a slow drag, blood trickled over her fingers and down her wrist.

The Star's face twisted up, losing some of its familiarity in the pleasure. The shudder broke her voice into two tones, one high and one low.

Bonnibel gripped one of The Star's fangs, the tooth smooth as porcelain and tough as steel.

“If you try to turn me, I'll rip these out of your head.”

“Ooh, don't make a girl a promise.”

Bonnibel huffed.

As she pulled her hand back, The Star sharpened all her teeth to fine points, spreading the venom thin enough to be ineffective. When the ring of fangs claimed her neck, Bonnibel's legs scrambled against the carpet. In addition to sucking out the color, The Star's mouth threatened to drain her of all resistance.

That was the worst part.

Years of discipline, of cutting off the excess, had whittled her body into perfect vampire-killing form. She freed her other hand—molded to tear into any weak spot—to pull The Star closer. Bonnibel was no stranger to pain, so her reward was a stronger bite.

The Star pulled back with a sigh, one voice horrid and the other pleasant. “How often have you thought about this? My claws, my teeth, this tongue?”

Bonnibel swiped The Star across the face, leaving streaks of red in her wake. That bit of defiance was worth a discordant cackle.

“Hit a nerve, did I? Must've been too many to count.”

Nothing infuriated Bonnibel more than the truth.

The Star closed in on all sides, emitting a hypnotic gravity all her own.

“Nothing you give yourself will ever feel as good as what I'm about to do to you. The best you can do is come close to it, and even then you'll be thinking of me.”

Her words carried a malicious energy. It would be unwise to ignore how they grazed her skin. Foolishly, Bonnibel took it as a challenge. Every deal, no matter how bad, has a way out.

The Star reached as if to undo the button on Bonnibel's pants, then raked her claws down the legs. Cool air washed over her lower body as the fabric was torn away.

Bonnibel glared.

The Star shifted on her lap. “Don't get mad, Bonnie. Get even.”

Bonnibel plunged her hands into the rip from the stake. Her fingers curled around the sides and she pulled with all her strength. This was merely practice for the gutting. She watched hungrily as the seams came undone, baring more and more skin.

The Star arched into her grasp. Bonnibel kneaded all that fit into her hands, digging her nails in each time. There was no need to be gentle. The Star didn't deserve or even seem to want it, with the way her face struggled to maintain form.

In a flash, Bonnibel was supine. Claws slid into her hair, scraping against her scalp. The ensuing moan was muffled by The Star planting herself on Bonnibel's mouth.

When presented with any task, Bonnibel was no slouch. For pride's sake, she wished she could be a tease. But the truth was she had to taste all of The Star’s essence, and she needed it now. She worked her mouth according to shudders and sounds. A haunting chorus of moans guided her. She earned every twist of her hair.

Before long, she yanked The Star over the peak, indulging in the grip around her tongue.

Wings of leather sprouted from The Star's back, dripping ink onto Bonnibel's calves. The Star flew them up, carrying Bonnibel by the waist.

Her body protested the sudden shift, a primal unease at the loss of stability. Bonnibel's hair slipped free of its braid, unraveling toward the floor.

A trail of bites, each harsher than the last, turned her focus where it belonged. Regarding comfort, The Star had obviously come to the same conclusion as Bonnibel. Mercifully, the fangs receded before The Star returned the favor.

As far as she knew, The Star couldn't read minds. There existed no journal, no drawing, no physical evidence of this life-ruining desire. Only in her thoughts would Bonnibel acknowledge the deep relief of sating this traitorous part of herself.

It didn't take much time. Tearing into The Star, and seeing her pleasure deepen for it, had gotten Bonnibel most of the way there. The sheer force of her orgasm neared violence. It shot through her veins, locked itself in her muscles. Syrup coated The Star's tongue, who lapped it up as though it were her purpose.

She extended her tongue, wringing every last drop of pleasure from her enemy. The Star pressed a kiss to Bonnibel's clit. Bonnibel clamped her knees around the vampire's ears. Said vampire ignored the reproach, looking all too pleased with herself.

“You're way louder than I'd hoped, you know that?” She gazed down at Bonnibel, eyelids low. “I figured it'd be easier to fight an army than get some feedback outta you.”

Bonnibel ignored the jab. It wouldn't matter soon, anyway. She extended her arms, then swung back and forth. As soon as she gained enough momentum, she reached for the ceiling and grabbed the knife's handle. Finally on the same level, The Star's glare seared her face—her only warning—before she was dropped to the ground.

She stuck the landing, knife in hand. It'd be more impressive if she had on pants, but that was only a temporary hindrance.

In her pocket, she dug around for the tiny sewing machine. High quality, durable clothing was hard to find and even harder to make. Just shy of a minute later, she was able to slip back into uniform.

The Star floated into Bonnibel's line of sight. “I expected no less. Spare a thread for the princess?”

“Fix it yourself.”

“Come on. Unless you want everyone to know what you did to my dress.”

“You wouldn't.” Bonnibel replaced her missing stakes. “And it'd be more trouble for you than me.”

The Star crossed her arms. “You don't know what I'd do.”

That much would always be true. Before The Star really called her bluff, there was room for one more deal.

“We will never speak of this,” Bonnibel decided.

The Star grinned. “We won't have to.”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. Whatever.”

Bonnibel took a moment to admire the tattered mess she'd made of such a rare garment. Seeing it made whole again left her hollow.

~~~

A couple hours later, she'd scrubbed away the evidence.

Ink, blood, and dried slick all swirled down the drain. Steam rose from the hard shower water, hot enough to make her malleable. Bonnibel ripped off each bite mark and took her time reforming the skin. It was fresh, smooth, and indistinguishable from the rest.

If The Star was to be believed—and Bonnibel was inclined to take this threat at face value—Bonnibel had signed up for a silent but devastating game of psychological warfare.

The Star had seen the worst of her tonight. If only she could reach inside herself and flush that away too.

Bonnibel dried off and wiped the mirror clear. Insults, she could take. No barbs could cut deeper than falling short of her own standards.

But she could ensure it never happened again.

With one hand, she unsheathed the knife. With the other, she gathered her hair at the nape. Bonnibel had never cut her hair before. Keeping it out of her way had always been sufficient. After a few fruitless attempts, she gave up on finding the right angle and simply hacked at what she could see.

She sculpted what remained into a buzz cut. It was light, easier on her neck. Along with the eye, she imagined The Star claiming it was yet another thing she'd taken from her. To the best of her abilities, Bonnibel would pretend otherwise.

#Bubbline #Vampworld Bubbline #Fionna and Cake #The Things I Write

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