Slipping into and out of every little gap, like a lone fish swimming downstream as every other salmon in the school swims up the river, Twilight Sparkle moves through the flood of students that fill the hallways of the university towards...somewhere.

Wherever she needs to be next, which was...

Ummm...

Twilight sighs.

She's heard of “running on autopilot” before, of course, but this is not quite what she expected.

Looking up and suffering a sudden awareness that an hour has passed - which she almost certainly wasn't asleep for and yet cannot remember clearly - is a bit new to Twilight. As is reading from her textbook and realizing that her eyes have just been rolling over the words, not even processing them at all, and now that she has zoned-in again she has no idea whatsoever what she's even reading about.

This was terminal inattention to schoolwork, of all things. And yet, she's at class on time, sits down, takes slightly less thorough notes than usual, gets up, and goes to her next class. Like clockwork, or like her schedule is pulling her along whether her mind is on board or not. It's not like she's just laying in bed all day, unable to cope—she's still going about her life as usual.

She'd thought about this. Moping in bed would represent some kind of active engagement with what had happened.

She's just...coasting.

Well, her body is, anyways.

It's stupid and hateful and frustrating. She's not even tired or angry or bored with anything—no, she's still as interested in her classwork as ever. Well, when she's...there, she still enjoys and cares about it, but...

She's just fading in and out, as if she's moving from one dream to another, only briefly visiting the real world before going somewhere else to apparently not do very much except not be present. Nothing she remembered, anyways—so, not daydreaming or wandering attention.

Just absence.

Numbness.

And when she returns to herself, it's - it's—

“Twilight? Twilight Sparkle?”

It's a bit of a shock.

“Agh!”

Twilight looks up, startled, as a hand gently falls on her shoulder, and tries to smile through a massive blush, heart pounding.

The familiar sight of Professor Celestia fills Twilight's vision.

Tall, impeccably dressed in a white and black suit, her brilliant head of hair today expertly worn up in a style that was at once very simple and academic and at the same time, seemed regal and stately. Just enough makeup to accentuate her olive features to their utmost.

Perfectly composed, just like the woman herself. The sort of person the crowd makes room for—the sort of person you only fail to notice if you're blind, looking the opposite direction, or just not all there.

Especially if you're Twilight Sparkle.

Mentor was a bit of a stretch, because that implied a lot more attention than Twilight got from any professor, but… not everyone had been taking coffee with her most Fridays for the past two semesters, even though she didn't take classes with her anym—

A momentary punch of shame finds itself planted firmly in Twilight's guts as she realizes she hasn't been doing that, lately.

Someo—something has been...occupying her time.

But if the professor has anything to say on that topic, it doesn't show on her face. Her bright eyes are as knowing and peaceful as ever, and the smile splitting her face shows nothing but pleasure as honest as the sun is bright.

“I'm sorry, I seem to have taken you by surprise,” she says, winking.

“Oh, er...no, no.” Twilight looks away for a moment, feeling like a little kid with her hand in the cookie jar. “Just, um, occupied with...other...”

Her dissembling dies away into a mumble.

The professor raises an eyebrow. “So, yes, in other words.”

Twilight sighs. There's nothing for it.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, don't be!” The professor gives Twilight's shoulder a little squeeze before withdrawing it. “I've been all over the place myself, lately, so I can hardly blame you for not expecting to run into me. How have you been? It feels like forever since...”

She goes on like that for a little while, but Twilight doesn't really listen to it. She sees the professor's lips moving, hears the sounds without processing their meaning...

Not like the professor to chitchat or small talk.

It’s the only thought she can summon. The only reaction.

A vague hand-wave of a thought. Not even engaged with the conversation, really, as if she just wanted the Cliff Notes of the chat and for it to be over and done with.

What the...? Seriously!? Even with her?

Twilight feels an urge to grab her hair and yank it out, screaming at the sudden spasm of self-loathing. Maybe that would bring her back to reality! This is Professor Celestia, who is...so...so...important! So kind, and knowledgeable, and who had encouraged so much in her, and yet she was fading out of this?!

She was just a dumb jock, for all that she...she...

Again, with the need to scream and yell and break things.

What is wrong with m—

Suddenly conscious of the real world again, Twilight blinks, and starts in place as she realizes that Celestia stopped speaking a few heartbeats ago, and is now giving her the sort of furrowed-brow look that Twilight associates with her mother wondering if someone has a fever.

Panic consumes the scattered kindling of her thoughts with terrible ease.

Oh, no. No, no, no, not to her. If she knew I was this messed up over something as dumb as that stupid jocktard I'd—she'd—

“Are you alright?”

“Fine!” Twilight blurts, grasping at straws. “Just fine. Lots of work. Midterms in a few weeks.”

The professor raises an eyebrow. “Twilight, midterms were weeks ago now, unless—”

“You see? Overworked. I've had my nose in a book for so long I can't tell if it's Tuesday or the summer solstice, haha...”

“Don't you mean the autumnal equinox?”

Twilight grins desperately. “Do I?”

“You very well might, although heaven alone knows why. It was a few weeks ago, too,” Professor Celestia says, frowning slightly as she straightens. “I can see you're more than a bit stressed, Twilight. Try to get some rest, will you? Real rest, mental and physical, like we've talked about.”

“Of course, professor.”

“That's a suggestion from a friend, not an order, Twilight.”

“Yes, professor.” When the professor doesn't respond, Twilight adds: “Thank you, professor.”

“Yes, well, I wish I could say you're acting terribly different from normal,” Professor Celestia murmurs to herself, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. She gives Twilight a fond smile. “Just try to relax before you have an aneurysm.”

Twilight makes a show of taking a deep breath in, and huffing it back out again. “Sorry.”

The professor just chuckles. “No, I should be the one to apologize. I'd love to pull you away and have some coffee together, but I have to be to a meeting in...oh, dear, ten minutes ago. But knowing the department, I'll still be the first one there, so no worries.”

“Ha, yeah,” Twilight manages.

“I'll see you later, then,” the professor says.

They give each other a smile and set off.

It's like being let out of a trap, somehow. Twilight can't help but breathe a sigh of relief—

“Oh, and...Twilight...?”

The sigh of relief is sucked back in suddenly as Twilight freezes in place and forces her features back into a smile before turning to reply.

“Yes?”

Professor Celestia gives her a serious look. “My door is always open to you. For anything. You know that, right?”

Twilight’s heart pauses, for the barest moment.

Really?

Even this? The way she...and when I...?

...no. No, not...no.

“R-right,” Twilight says. “Of course. I have your e-mail and everything...”

Celestia just smiles and nods, giving Twilight a little wave.

If Twilight wasn't feeling particularly present before all that, she is damn well alert and awake now. With a polite but firm haste, she makes her way through the still-thick crowd, weaving through the teeming mass of undergraduates like only a veteran academic can.

Unseen behind her, Professor Celestia watches her go with a weary sigh.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Author's Note: The next part contains a depiction of sexual assault. Feel free to skip to the end, important bits will be summarized there.

Rainbow Dash slides to a stop, swinging the back tire of her bike around in a skid that leaves a long, dark swath of dirt in the gravel. It’s only a driveway in the sense that cars park there sometimes. Weeds have sprung up all over it, thick and choking, making it look more and more like the sickly excuse for a lawn elsewhere.

The house is a squat, ugly brick of a thing, trying to look like a normal home and failing. The best that could be said for this place is that it isn’t a trailer park - although it is surrounded by trailer parks.

Rainbow Dash doesn’t care about any of this. Her eyes see them and she thinks the same things she always does - Haha, jeez, what a dump - but only in a half-ass kind of way. There’s a lot more on her mind, for once.

She gets off the bike and picks her way around the moldy furniture and rusty car parts littering the yard. At the end of the drive is an absolute beast of a bike, worn but well-cared for, all sexy curves and chrome dulled through years of hard use. She practically drools looking at it. She loves her little dirt bike - truly, deeply, and in a somewhat worrying way - but this bike is a whole other thing, a beautiful monster, as smooth and sinister as the devil.

She reaches through a hole in the screen to knock on the actual door. Her eyes barely leave that damn motorcycle. It’s black, and it even has flames painted on the side just like in the movies, although they’re also old and scratched and worn.

She hears someone stomping inside.

“Fuckin’ kidding me, bullshit fucking knocking on my goddamn door...”

Rainbow Dash smirks and chuckles, hearing the curses getting closer. The door flies open.

“WHAT?” the woman inside yells. Her face unsnarls the moment she sees Dash, turning to nothing but blinks and surprise.

“Gilda,” Rainbow Dash says, striking an appropriately cool pose. “I see you missed me.”

“Rainbow Dash.” Gilda crosses her arms, even smiling for a second. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“The fuck are YOU doing here?” Rainbow Dash says right back, smirking.

“Not waiting for your skinny ass.” She stretches and yawns, grudgingly keeping her smile on. “You are such a little bitch, Dash.”

Rainbow Dash smiles. This is more like it - none of that lovey-dovey crap.

Gilda shakes her head and goes inside, leaving the door open. Dash follows, jumping a little as the screen door bangs shut behind her.

It’s awful inside. Rainbow Dash remembers how this place alway seemed dark even when it wasn’t gloomy out, cramped and run down. The living room is a wood-paneled cave, crammed full of junk and boxes and pieces of cars or motorcycles, take your pick. There’s a ratty couch but it’s got an old TV taking up most of it, one of those big, boxy ones like Dash’s parents had way back in the day.

Gilda disappears around the corner, her voice flying back at Dash. “So really, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Rainbow Dash shrugs, burying her hands in her pockets. “I dunno. Been a while,” she says.

Gilda returns, cracking open a can of cheap beer and ignoring the foam that spills out. “Yeah. Been a while.” She takes a quick swig and then holds the can out to Dash.

Rainbow Dash drinks it, because hey, why not? It’s not quite cold.

It tastes awful. Dash drinks it anyway.

“You done playing around with your little college girlfriend?” Gilda says.

Dash chokes on her beer.

How did she...?!

“Chill out, idiot.” Gilda punches her on the arm. It hurts, but Dash grins right through it. “You stopped coming around. Knew you’d come back, though.”

“Yeah?” Dash hands the beer back to her, trying not to sound surprised.

Rainbow Dash. Hundred percent ice cool. All the time.

“Yeah, you college girls always do,” Gilda says.

“Fuck off, G.”

Gilda just laughs and stalks off towards the kitchen.

Dash follows. There’s a wobbling little table crammed in the corner there, so at least they can sit. Dash wedges herself in across from Gilda and tries not to knock anything over - the table is covered in cans and paper plates and spilled piles of ash and cigarette butts.

Gilda wipes at her eyes between pulls at their only can of beer - she looks like she just woke up. Her short hair is sticking out in weird places, and her long, sharp bangs are scattered all over the place instead of hanging over face.

Rainbow Dash snorts. The tips of Gilda’s bangs are still dyed light purple, but her usual eye shadow is missing.

Definitely just woke up.

Damn, what is it, four?

Jealous!

Maybe that’s why Gilda doesn’t seem to care about living in a filthy, broken down mobile home. Hell, if it wasn’t for classes, Dash knows she would sleep until whenever.

“That one’s new,” Rainbow Dash says. She’s looking at a piercing, a silver stud on the rear edge of Gilda’s eyebrow.

Gilda smirks, deep and naughty. “You should see my other new one.” Without any fanfare at all, she hikes her shirt up and yanks the cup of her bra down.

Whoa!

Dash’s eyebrows shoot wide open. There’s a simple silver stud through Gilda’s nipple, a little barbell with a ball on either side of the pink nub. It’s pretty eye-catching, but Dash’s eyes slide down, past Gilda’s barely-visible ribs and sliding along the curve of her hip.

She’s lost weight. Still tough and tawny, but sleeker now.

“Pretty rad, right?” Gilda says.

“...Yeah,” Dash says, distantly. It’s funny - she’d spent the last week or so just doing her own thing. Not moping, not over Twilight, hell no. But then she’d woken up this morning torn up and wound up, fidgeting and tight in the chest. A little ball of coiled, frantic energy had been jittering in her belly...

Single again! HELL yeah!

And she knew she needed it now, and bad, a real lay. No more mushy stuff. So she’d hopped on her bike, not that riding really helped any, and found herself here.

She’d only gotten worse on the way - it had been so long since she’d seen Gilda. She sped the whole way here, just like they used to race on their bikes, zipping between lanes and dodging through red lights.

But now that she’s here...

Ribs. Wow.

It doesn’t feel quite as urgent.

Gilda doesn’t seem to notice her eyes wandering. She tugs her bra down further and cups her breast, holding it up for Dash. “You gonna check it out, or what?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Pffft, hell yeah,” Dash says. She reaches over.

THERE it is. Mmmf.

Horny again. Her fingers slide up the slope of Gilda’s breast, grazing the tips over her skin, and she runs one finger over the cold metal.

Bigger than Twilight’s. Bigger nipples, too.

Whatever. She’s not thinking about Twilight - she’s thinking about Gilda, watching her grin and making her grin wider with every little touch of her finger. Rainbow Dash licks her lips and pinches it, pulling and twisting just slightly.

“Ow!” Gilda says, still smiling. She rolls her lower lip between her teeth.

“Whoa, sorry,” Dash pulls back, but Gilda snaps a hand around her wrist. Her fingers are sharp and boney, digging into Dash’s arm like steel wire.

“Sorry?” Gilda giggles and snorts, cruel mocking. “Sorry?”

“Shut up,” Dash says, trying to shake Gilda’s hand off. It doesn’t work.

“Oh, you want it so BAD!” Gilda says, still giggling wickedly. She stands up and pulls Dash out of her chair, almost throwing her into the wall. She plants one arm against the wall over Dash’s shoulder, looming over her.

Dash puffs her chest out - not nervous, not scared, just cool - and scoffs loudly. “Me?” she says. “Me?! I just showed up like, a minute ago, and you’re all over me.”

Gilda smirks and slaps her lightly across the face, whipping one stinging hand into her cheek.

0 and 2. Nice.

Then she grabs Dash’s chin and holds it tight, clawing her in place as she dives in for a rough, nasty kiss.

Definitely horny now. Dash’s chest empties out, that tight, falling feeling in her hips taking over as Gilda does what she wants. Dash can barely move her tongue, her face, her arms push feebly against Gilda’s chest, and her legs squeeze together in need.

“That’s more like it,” Gilda says. She grabs the front of Dash’s jeans by the buckle and yanks her close. “You gonna get in my bed now, or do I have to put you there?”

Dash takes the moment and pushes back, grinning as she worms her way out of Gilda’s grasp. They tussle for a few seconds, Dash pants and holds in moans, squirming her arms out of Gilda’s strong fingers and grabbing back when she can. It’s fun, and hot, just like the first time she and Twilight...

No no no no no.

It’s really not. Gilda turns her around and pushes, spanking her on the ass as she sends Dash stumbling down the hall. Still bigger. Still stronger.

Rainbow Dash turns to ready herself but Gilda is already pouncing again, kissing and pushing, dragging both of them clumsily towards the bedroom. Dash tries to force her tongue in and Gilda bites it, hard enough to make Dash gasp.

It’s not quite right. They used to do it at night - well, whenever, really - but usually at night, and always after a race, or a fight, or something that had them panting and sweaty and full of the rush, the need to win, flying circles around each other until they were both too tired and wound up at the same time to do anything but frantically fuck it out.

Those had been great. She remembers straddling Gilda on that big hog of a bike, both of them taking off their helmets and wrapping each other up in a sloppy kiss right as Gilda revved the engine, roaring it right up through Dash’s legs.

Mmm. MAN.

That was the good stuff. Dash was thinking of that, this morning when she woke up. She was thinking of that as she rode her bike over here. She’s still thinking about it now, while GIlda shoves her into a dim bedroom, tripping them both onto a mattress on the floor.

She gets glimpses around her, between Gilda holding her down and pelting her with kisses. It looks just like it did - heaps of clothes, dirty and not. A chest of drawers with duct tape all over the cheap wood. A broken guitar leaning up against a corner.

It stinks. Like old sweat and stale sex.

Gilda pins her to the bed, rocking her hips into Dash and slowly, purposefully tearing her clothes off. Her jacket goes, and then she tries to go for Gilda’s shirt and feels her arms pinned up instead. Gilda peels Dash’s top off and then tears her bra off, pulling a few ripping sounds out of the stretchy material.

Ha, nice!

This is more like it! Dash kisses her back, feeling Gilda squeeze and pinch her modest little breasts. She wraps her legs around Gilda’s hips and squeezes, holding in not-cool moans of pleasure, because she knows they would sound nothing like the throaty grunts that GIlda is making.

Dash sneaks her hands down, going for Gilda’s fly. Her arms are trapped between them as she fumbles at the zipper, opening it, wondering if Gilda still has that totally badass picture shaved into her pubes or if she...

She feels Gilda smile against her lips, and Gilda’s hands disappear for a second.

Huh. What?

Gilda pulls back, breaking their sloppy kissing, and Dash hears the shhhCLACK of a knife being opened. She opens her eyes just in time to see the blade, the flat of it pressed against her lips.

They both freeze. Dash’s heart does a little dance, like a car just pulled out in front of her and she’s going ninety.

“You remember this?” Gilda says, leering down at her.

Dash would nod, if she couldn’t feel the razor sharp edge pressing into her skin. It’s a buck knife - one of those clasp ones they sell at truck stops, with the wooden handle and brass trim. She’d seen Gilda stab a guy through the hand with it once, pinning him to a table.

Her hands are stuck, squeezed under Gilda’s crotch.

“Been a long time, Dash,” Gilda says, still smiling. She drags the knife, very gently, down Dash’s lips and over the curve of her chin.

“...Yeah?” Dash says, her heart pounding and skipping now.

“Been having fun with those college girls, right?”

“Uh... yeah,” Dash says, somewhat less full of herself than usual. “Heh. You know me.”

“Mmmm,” Gilda growls, sliding the knife lower. She squeezes harder with her legs as she passes over Dash’s throat, catching Dash’s jolt of panic before she even knew she would do it. Then the cold blade is tracing down her left collarbone.

“So how was she?” Gilda asks, golden eyes piercing down at Dash.

“Uh...?” Dash chuckles, not nervously, no. “Which one?”

“Cut the bullshit, Dash,” Gilda growls. The knife presses into her skin, hairs away from breaking it. “The special one.”

Dash scowls at her. She tries to sit up, growling, fuck the knife, she doesn’t have to put up with this shit from anybody. Gilda slams her back down into the mattress, holding the blade in the shallow valley between her breasts.

“You’re different,” Gilda says, playfully, a cat grinning at the mouse under its paw. “You didn’t stop calling me when you were fucking around with all those little cunts on your team. You found someone special, didn’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Rainbow Dash growls, staring back at her, not flinching anymore.

Gilda laughs, easing the knife back and playing with it, drawing nervous figure eights on Dash’s chest with the tip. Not cutting, just dragging it along hard enough to sting.

Dash holds her breath, trying to decide whether to glare at the knife or Gilda. Heart still pounding, sure, still racing, but this is getting less and less funny. Or fun.

“Did she break your heart?” Gilda says, pouting and making a mocking baby voice.

“Whatever.” Dash rolls her eyes. “She... bi...” She winces, inside, closing her eyes and trying to force it out. “Bit... girl couldn’t handle this action.”

Gilda smirks and nods. “What was her name?”

“What the fuck do you care?”

She attacks fast, a hawk’s dive, wrapping one arm around the back of Dash’s head and using the other to bring the knife up, pressing the tip right under Dash’s chin.

She can’t hide it now, no chance. Dash is shaking, eyes wide and panicked, her arms fighting to free themselves, feet scrambling for purchase.

“What was her name?” Gilda growls.

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Tell me!”

Dash glances around, pushing back the panic chewing in her head, telling her to scream and cry and run like hell. “Pinkie!” she yells.

“Pinkie?” Gilda says, dripping contempt.

“Lemme go!” Dash yells. “For real, G, cut this shit out!”

Gilda smirks again, like she’s won. In one quick motion she snaps the knife up, twirling it into a backhand grip, and in another just as fast she brings it slamming down.

THUNK

Dash slowly opens her eyes, prying her teeth open and carefully unflinching. The knife is stuck in the wall, wobbling back and forth.

“Knew you’d be back,” GIlda says, all pleasant smiles again. She stalks in close and kisses Dash, slowly this time, running her hands down Dash’s arms and meeting her between their legs.

Dash is still catching her breath. She’s sweating all over, cold and clammy, her heart still turning over so fast it hurts.

Gilda kisses her, and wraps their fingers together. It’s almost tender.

Rainbow Dash smirks into the kiss and darts her hand up, grabbing Gilda’s piercing and giving it a sharp twist.

“AH!” Gilda squawks, shoving Dash into the mattress. “Bitch!”

“THAT’S for jerking me around with that knife. What the hell, G?”

Gilda’s mean smile fades a bit. “Aww, come on Dash. Just fuckin’ around.”

Rainbow Dash snorts quietly and gives the piercing another twist. Gilda doesn’t even seem to notice this time.

“Besides, you liked it.” Gilda shoves her hand between Dash’s legs, gripping the mound there and squeezing. “You’re practically dripping.”

Guilty. Rainbow Dash feels her face growing warm.

Dammit dammit dammit!

It’s fine - Gilda pounces again, kissing her and rubbing rough between Dash’s legs. Dash squeezes with her thighs and thrusts her chest up, whining pathetically - she can’t help it, Gilda is grinding her thumb into Dash’s clit, driving her mad through what clothes are left.

The next few seconds are a blur. Dash struggles to get Gilda’s pants off, and barely succeeds, dragging the tattered jeans off just barely. She never gets a chance at Gilda’s underwear.

Zebra stripes. Nice.

Gilda tears the rest of Dash’s clothes off with savage eyes, yanking her limbs where she needs them. Dash is naked so quickly she almost tries to cover herself with her hands - it’s cold, sure, but that’s only half the reason she’s shivering, nipples so hard they ache.

She moans...again, but finds it hard to care this time. It's so nice to be wanted. Gilda isn’t like Twilight, asking permission and apologizing every time she wants to fuck. She just takes.

Gilda growls, moving down Dash’s neck and biting between kisses. Her hands dig into Dash’s tight buttcheeks, pulling her in close and rocking their hips together.

Dash growls back, searching with her mouth and finding an ear, nipping at it just past gently. Just enough that it had to hurt a little.

Gilda snorts and flips her over, throwing Dash onto her belly. She tries to get up and makes it to her hands and knees, then feels Gilda’s weight thrown on her back, pinning her there.

She feels Gilda’s shirt on her back, the piercing poking through the thin white fabric. Gilda’s tight legs rub against hers, snuggled in close, thrusting her hips into Dash’s butt, ramming into her a few times with another mean growl. All she can see is the faded wood panel of the wall, and the knife, still stuck there.

Gilda’s hot breath stings the back of her neck. Dash digs her fingers into the mattress - she’s quivering, arching her back and showing off how badly she needs this, needs to just fuck it out, all that lame gooey talking and feelings and crap finally getting to her.

Gilda chuckles - Dash doesn’t have to see to know the wicked smile she’s making. She feels Gilda’s hands running down her sides, feels one cup her breast and the other slide down plunge two fingers right into Dash’s lips.

“AH!” Dash cries out. It was rough, and sudden, but...

Awesome?

Gilda slides them in and out, fingering her quick and brutal right out the gate. Rainbow Dash was going to yell out something in victory - Hell yeah, maybe. Or finally. Maybe say something even cooler.

Took you long enough, G.

No, still... Hmph. She sighs and bites her lip - she was expecting awesome, amazing, just as mindblowing as that time Gilda bent her over the motorcycle. This is just...

I mean, getting fingerblasted pretty good here, no doubt.

But that’s it. Rainbow Dash moans and wiggles her hips, squeezing with her inner walls - Gilda seems to ignore her, still working her fingers just the same.

Rainbow Dash pouts to herself. She can’t see anything, just this stupid wood panel.

Whenever she and Twilight-

No no no cut that out.

She decides she wants to turn around, to face Gilda. For no particular reason. She starts to move, but Gilda sits up and plants her free hand on Dash’s back.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Gilda says.

“Come on, man. Face to face,” Dash says, glaring over her shoulder.

“Nuh uh.” Gilda’s hand tenses up, digging her nails into Dash’s back.

“What? Come on, just...” Dash starts to roll over.

Gilda claws at one of her arms and pulls it up, behind her back. She leans in close, thrusting her fingers as deep as they can go.

“Mmmn!” Dash moans, liking those fingers a little more. Still not right, though. “Come on, G, what gi - AH!”

Her arm, twisted and burning. It feels like Gilda is tearing it out of its socket. Dash grits her teeth, feeling her eyes water up, and then Gilda whispers in her ear.

“Oh Rainbow Dash, I totally want to look in your eyes too, oh my god,” Gilda says, sing-song and mocking. “Fucking flip over and quit fuckin’ whining.”

“Hey fuck yo - OH. OW, goddammit!” Dash yells. Gilda is twisting her arm again, pushing and forcing her face down into the mattress. Those fingers are back to working, hammering into her over and over again so fast they make a loud squelch every time.

“Oh my god,” Gilda chuckles. “You really are dripping. I knew you liked it rough but damn.”

Rainbow Dash feels like choking, a little glad her face is buried in the mattress - she is wet, she can feel herself eagerly squeezing Gilda’s fingers with every thrust. She can barely move, Gilda has her tied up by the arm and gives it a mean yank every time Dash so much as starts to move.

“That’s right,” Gilda says, breathy and panting. “That’s right... take it just like that you... you love it you little...”

Gilda sounds far away, muttering almost. Rainbow Dash scowls at nothing, her face burning.

Man is she drunk? What the hell?

She’s not jealous this time. It’s... okay, yeah. Hot? Sure, sure. That tight little ball of nervous energy in her belly is growing, anyway, leaking out through her hips with warm, shuddering promises.

She wants to move. She tries again and Gilda yanks her arm harder, pulling her fingers out and giving Dash a wet slap on the ass.

Jeez, fine. You win.

Rainbow Dash keeps hiding her face. She hates losing. But fine, fair and square and all that crap, just bend over and take it until...

Wait WHAT?

She feels Gilda’s thumb sliding up, squeezing a little harder with each wet thrust. It circles and tickles and finds the tight hole right above her lips, pressing in and forcing it open just slightly.

No. No, too far.

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash struggles to look at her, gasps each time as Gilda twists her arm harder. “Hey, for real, no!”

“Oh, shut up, you’ll love this,” Gilda says, pulling out and spanking her again. It hurts, not hot or exciting or fun at all, just a mean slap.

“Stop!”

Gilda doesn’t. Dash feels her thumb press and squirm and force its way into her, making her grit her teeth at the dry stinging.

“G! What the fuck, come on!” Dash yells.

Gilda squeezes her arm so hard Dash’s hand goes numb, pulling it up and back until there’s no gasping breath left in Dash’s lungs. She presses harder, working her thumb in deeper until Dash feels her knuckle sandpaper its way in.

“Gil... Gilda...” Dash starts to say, but she hears wavering sobs in it. It hurts, goddamn does it hurt, the fingers sliding inside her almost forgotten next to Gilda’s boney thumb in her ass. Gilda grunts and forces it in to the hilt, leaving it there and going back to work with her fingers.

Dash buries her face in the bed. She’s not crying, no, fuck that, fuck you, what the fuck, this is fine. The Dash doesn’t get pinned to a bed, whining like a dog with the biggest thumb in the world being drilled up her ass. No, everything’s cool, just got to... get...

“AH!” Even the littlest move she tries to make is met with more awful tearing in her arm, the pain creeping in and jolting through her elbow. It feels like its coming apart, slowly pulling away and tearing off like a chicken wing.

Gilda keeps fucking Dash with her fingers, keeping that warm fire burning between her legs. It’s not fair - it would feel good if it wasn’t for the thumb in her butt.

“Knew you’d... like it...” Gilda says, different from before - dark and low and throaty.

Dash shakes her head, the only thing she can do without being punished. “G... Gilda... come on...” she whimpers, really whimpers, and hearing herself hurts almost as much as -

Her eyes snap open wide, tears dripping out. Gilda is squeezing, bearing down with her thumb, trying to meet her fingers with it.

Dash bites the bed, fighting to catch her breath and keep any sound in at the same time. Not fair, not fair, this is messed up, what the fuck why...

She whimpers again - she can feel her hips trembling, feel herself squeezing tighter and longer against Gilda’s fingers, feel her hips thrusting against them.

NO. No no no no no NO.

She can’t stop it. That ball right above her hips is about to explode, she knows it, the slick, strong fingers sliding in and out of her just too much. Gilda always knew how to make her come like this, make her scream and moan and shake until she was nothing but a happy worn-out mess. She squirms and bucks and fights again, still pinned. She almost tries to reach for the knife, anything, just anything not to let it happen.

It happens.

Her first gasp is muffled by the bed. Her second rings out - Gilda finally lets her arm go and grabs a handful of her hair, yanking her head back and up as holds Dash tight by the hips.

“GAH!” Rainbow Dash yells into thin air, chest heaving, clenching around GIlda’s fingers and thumb and it hurts so bad and she’s coming and it’s awful.

“AH!” she yells again, squeezing her eyes shut, shaking her head and straining at the hand holding her hair. “Ah! Ah... ah... ahhhhhhhh...” The last gasp trails off into a long, low moan that winds down to a whimper.

Gilda pounds her fingers deeper in, one last time, and then finally, thankfully, lets her go. Dash collapses into the bed, dizzy and shaking.

She’s alone, like that. She’s not sure for how long - her lips are moving, whimpering silently, and the sweat all over her body is growing cold. She curls up in a ball, moving her hands back and forth from covering her breasts to covering her aching mound.

She takes a deep breath.

Messed up.

This is messed up, all messed up, shouldn’t be like this.

Gilda is fun. Gilda is cool. Cool like Dash, and The Dash would never -

What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK.

She sits up, clambering around blindly. Her arm aches, her eyes ache, her ass aches, her face is puffy and swollen and damp with tears. She looks around, blinking. Gilda is sitting up against the wall. She’s smoking a cigarette, watching the smoke drift up and around, grinning to herself.

Dash opens her mouth, to cuss her out, to yell something, to fight back. Nothing comes - she chokes and gags instead, tasting bile at the back of her throat.

“Hey,” Gilda says, grinning at her. “Told you you’d like it.”

Dash blinks at her. The words sound muffled, far away.

“Now get over here and finish me off,” Gilda says, reaching for Dash.

Dash slaps her hand away, a panicked instinct. She flinches and hates it, hates Gilda, hates everything.

“Come on, Dash,” Gilda says, looking annoyed. “Get that little tongue of yours down here and-”

“NO.”

Gilda stops, glaring at her.

Rainbow Dash fights for words - she wants to cry, can feel the urge fighting its own battle behind every thought. “You... we... you can’t just...”

“You are different,” Gilda scoffs. “What the fuck is all this baby shit?”

“You can't just DO that, it's-”

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Gilda rolls her eyes. “You loved it. My sheets are soaked with you loving that shit.”

Rainbow Dash feels herself choking down some of that bile. “I said NO.”

“Sometimes no means do it anyways. Gotta push your boundaries, college girl.” Gilda sighs, like she’s wasting her time. “The fuck is this, Dash? You said no the first time we fucked like a lot of times and like ten minutes later you were tongue deep in my shit.”

Dash shakes her head. “That was different. That was COOL, that was-”

“I bet this whole time you were fuckin' thinking about HER, some fat lipstick bitch who just wanted to piss off daddy...”

“Fuck you,” Rainbow Dash says. It doesn’t sound cool, or defiant, or anything near awesome.

A moment passes, the only sound Gilda sucking in a long drag of smoke. “No, fuck YOU, Dash,” she growls, letting the smoke ooze out her mouth. “I know better. You can say no all you want but right now you wish I was doing it again.”

Rainbow Dash scowls at her. There just aren’t enough fuck you’s in the world.

Gilda laughs, high and braying. “You are such a dyke. Just accept it! You love being roughed up...”

“GILDA! WHAT - THE - HELL?!” Rainbow Dash screams, throwing weak, flailing punches.

Gilda slaps them all aside. “Christ, if you’re gonna be such a bitch about this then just get the fuck out of here.”

Rainbow Dash stares at her, jaw dropped.

“You heard me!” Gilda snaps, raising her hand to strike. “Get the fuck out of here!”

So she does.

She doesn’t even get dressed first, putting her clothes on as she stumbles out, muttering and cursing and sobbing under her breath. She blows her way past the door, slamming it open and tearing new holes in the screen, and steps out into fresh air.

Dizzy. The fresh air slaps her in the face, sending her wobbling towards her bike. This shitty house in this shitty neighborhood in the shitty, shitty town are all spinning. Her face is burning, furious tears smeared all over her face as she hops on her bike.

She hisses in a breath. Hurts, hurts so goddamned much, fucking bullshit.

Her hand shakes, dropping the keys a few times. Bending over to pick them up sends fresh spikes of pain through her behind, sore and tender each time.

She finally gets it. The bike whines to life and she takes off, peeling out and spraying gravel everywhere.

She doesn’t puke.

No way, not Rainbow Dash.

Not for a few minutes, anyway, stopping by the side of the road and crawling on her hands and knees and heaving in a ditch until there’s nothing left to choke out.

She coughs and wipes at her mouth, and she sees Twilight - lying in bed with her, snuggled up close and giggling like she does when she’s finally, finally relaxed.

Her chest heaves and she retches again.

Oh.

So there was a little more in there.

Author's Notes:

I understand plenty of people might not want to read a graphic depiction of a sexual assault, so a quick summary: Rainbow Dash, on the rebound, goes to see her old flame Gilda. They have sex. Gilda goes too far, Rainbow Dash has a bad time.