So I wrote this for a prompt over at the glee_kink_meme (I won't say which because it gives away the pairing even though I'm posting this in reply to the prompt lol). Anyway, this is dark. I am not at all kidding when I say NC-17; It deals with physical abuse, including strangulation, as well as rough sex (I seriously felt like an SVU writer when I wrote the bulk of this). I thought about adding more to the end but I didn't want to write something that wasn't perfect and I'm not sure I could achieve that (I'm not even 100% happy with what I'm posting). Title's from Strawberry Gashes by Jack Off Jill. Um... Yeah. Enjoy. Oh! And thanks to Kori for reading this over.
Nobody is left at school. All of the summer practices (football, Cheerio, Glee, hockey) have let out for the day, the five o'clock heat had become too unbearable even for Sue. Everyone is walking slowly to their cars, trying to make it the sweet AC they'll blast as soon as they turn their keys in the ignition. She watches them blankly from the locker room, damp hair hanging around her shoulders, tips wetting the back of her yellow dress.
She may look the same, act the same, wear the same clothes and fake smiles, but she isn't the same. She doesn't belong with any of them anymore. Not with those Cheerio bitches who act like they didn't shun her once she was kicked off the squad. Not with the football players who cat call at her or the hockey players who call her a slut every time she walks by (because unlike the cheerleaders, they refuse to pretend that last year didn't happen). And not with the Glee kids who try and try and try to look at her the same way they did before, like she didn't give away her baby, but ultimately fall a little short.
And then there is him, who looks at her stomach (the complete lack of bump) harshly, fists clenching every time she talks to him.
(Sometimes though, he just looks sad and if she's honest with herself, it makes her sad too.)
She steps out of the locker room, her duffle bag bunching her dress at her hip when she walks. She goes into the main building, the hallway silent and empty. Nobody is around to hear her breathe, hear her flats hit the floor with a quiet muted thump, hear her golden hair swish across her shoulder blades. This is what she wants; to be left alone with her thought and be away from the judgmental eyes that still follow her.
Suddenly (though it isn't really because this has happened everyday for the past two weeks) a hand wraps around her hair, pulling violently as another hand grabs her wrist, fingers digging into soft flesh as her arm is jerked behind her. Her duffle bag slips from her shoulder and hits the ground with a loud thud that echoes in the hallway, the man behind her kicking it into the janitor's closet near them. He shoves her in, slamming the door behind him as she knocks against the porcelain utility sink on the far wall. She whimpers as the lip of the white basin hits her hip, making contact with the black and yellow bruise that's already there.
"On your knees," he barks and she slumps down, knees scraping on the grime and fallen nails on the concrete ground. It hurts, the nails imprinting and puncturing her skin but she ignores the pain as he knots a handful of her hair in his fist. His free hand pulls the worn leather out of the metal buckle, fingers quickly flicking open the button on his jeans. She gulps as he slides his zipper down, eyes watering from the combination of pain she feels all over her body. His grip tightens on her hair as he pulls out his dick and it's then that she starts crying. She lets out a sob and he takes that moment when her lips part to shove himself all the way into her mouth.
She chokes around him, tears trailing down her cheeks faster as he guides her head by her hair. He's unrelenting, shoving her face into his crotch, her nose smushing against him every time he lurches her forward. She doesn't know what to do, just that she can't breathe and can't find any sort of rhythm to keep up with in order to make him happy. "Come on," he yells, stilling her face as he pulls her hair so hard she can feel golden strands being ripped out. "Don't act like you don't know how to do this. You do this all the time for me and it seems to be the only thing you know how to do right."
She nods, tears catching in her long lashes as her mouth opens once again, this time voluntarily taking him in. He picks up the same pace he had before but this time her head bobs on her own accord and her mouth closes around him.
His hand falls away from her the moment he realizes that she's figured it out. He looks down at her, seeing only her rat's nest hair and he feels a tug in his chest. He's not sure if he should be disgusted by the fact that she lets him do this to her (that she willingly lets him fuck her like this) or if he should be disgusted with himself for using her desolation against her.
But then, he reasons, she's the one who told him to hit her if he was so angry with her. Really, he could be doing worse things.
Her mouth moves monotonously around him, salty tears occasionally hitting his skin when she has him completely enveloped. She's likely crying for a multitude of reasons (the one that hurts the least is probably the physical bleeding from her knees) but it's her fault she's like this. He snarls at her to suck him right, to not just take him into her mouth but to make him feel good. "You owe me that at the fucking least."
She quickly switches it up, tongue now moving around him instead of laying limp in her mouth, before his hand can go back to her hair. She bites playfully (though nothing about what they do, what they are, is playful) when she reaches the head of his cock and he groans, hips bucking forward. She nearly chokes again but manages to move her head with the unexpected movement before she repeats the motion.
She feels his body start to tense up a few seconds later, his hand raising to her hair to pull her away. She pulls off him with a pop, wiping her nose with the back of her hand when he steps back. He runs a shaking hand through his hair, breathing in deeply through his nose as he looks down at her, watching as her hands twitch at her side. "Does it hurt?" Her fingers run along the sides of her legs, itching to move just a little bit further down and put pressure on her aching knees. She keeps her head down when she nods, only looking up when he asks if she thinks she deserves it.
She doesn't know. When she gave Beth away, it hurt so much; that little girl, that baby, was hers (theirs, he always reminds her) and she wanted so badly to be her mom. She wanted to take her home, tell her she loves her everyday, watch her grow into a beautiful young woman. But at the same time she felt so relieved when she left the hospital empty. As much as she wanted to keep her baby, she wanted to give her away just as much. She wanted to be popular again, she wanted to be a Cheerio and HBIC, she wanted her normal life back, she wanted her family (father) back. She wanted to be able to go to parties and not have to worry about where she is going to live next week. She was selfish as fuck when she let Shelby Corcoran take her baby and as sad as Quinn was, she was happy to see them go. This situation would be better for her anyway, having a mother who could take care of her, someone who wasn't a fuck up like Quinn. "I don't know," she answers quietly and he shakes his head as soon as the words leave her mouth.
"You gave away my baby," he screams at her, grabbing her chin roughly so she's forced to look at him. "You deserve to feel like shit." His hand moves to her hair, tangling the blonde strands in his fingers and yanking her up. She lets out a cry when she feels the nails drop from her skin as she stands up. "Shut up!" He pushes her until she hits the sink once more, instructing her to sit on it. "What you feel now doesn't even come close to how I feel." He lifts up her dress and snickers when he notices that she isn't wearing any underwear. "You're such a fucking slut."
She wants to yell, tell him he's wrong, that the only people who have touched her are Puck and him, but he's mad and upset because of what she did so she nods her head (she'll take the blame if he wants to place it on her). "I'm sorry," she mutters, trying to take his cheeks in her hands so he'll finally look her in the eye.
"Sorry," he spits, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head. "You're sorry? You fucked up my entire life and the only thing you can say is sorry?" He tightens his grip around her thin wrists, squeezing lightly as his other hand moves between her legs. He shoves three fingers inside her without any preamble, causing her to let out something between a strangled cry and a moan.
He pumps in and out of her roughly, curling his fingers with each thrust. She bites down on her bottom lip so hard she can taste the metallic flavor on her tongue, her body throbbing all over. He stares at her with so much hate and loathing in his eyes that a shiver runs through her whole body, thighs tightening around his hips. She has to look down because he looks so broken, so fucking miserable and for the first time since they've begun this tragic little… thing, she realizes this is her fault. It's her fault he looks like a zombie most days, that his face remains unshaven, that he's completely alone even if he's surrounded by a school full of people. Her eyes focus on his hands, right hand pushing inside of her relentlessly up to his knuckles, the one previously holding her hands together now keeping her thigh far apart from the other, calloused fingers spread and depressing her skin.
And then it hits her.
She does deserves this. Giving away Beth was only good for her; everyone else got their lives ruined. She fucked over Puck (she gave away his daughter and ignored him the minute they left the hospital), she made a fool out of Finn (lying to and manipulating him until he was embarrassed in front of Glee club and the entire school), and she ruined Mr. Schuester's marriage (if she's being honest with herself, she ruined the people in that marriage too).
The whole time they've been doing this twisted thing, she's never once believed she deserved this; always thought she'd just put up with this because he's hurt and needs to take his anger out on someone (and it may as well be her since she already feels so damn shitty). But now… Now she finally sees that this mess that's enveloped all the Glee club members is 100% her fault.
This makes her start crying even harder, even louder, and he pulls his fingers out of her, moving them so they wrap around her pale neck. "Shut up," he spits, his fingertips digging into her skin as he begins to close his fingers around her neck. He wants her to stop crying, wants her to stop hurting, just wants everything to stop for both of them. But it hasn't stopped and he's been hurting and angry for months now and it's not fucking fair. He should be able to go on with his life, not live with the memory of a daughter that was never really his. He shouldn't be reminded of what could have been every time he so much as looks at Quinn's name.
She forces herself to keep her eyes open; she wants to commit to memory the look he has on his face when he does this to her. Usually when this happens he just looks so damn furious that she's honestly surprised that she leaves with only a bruised hip and aching scalp. But now, it's like it's finally clicked in his head that he's just as ruined as she is. Except now that she's welcoming her punishment with open arms, he looks at her like he could start sobbing at any given moment.
(This would make her break down and cry more if she could actually take a breath.)
He squeezes even tighter because, fuck, him feeling like shit was not how this was supposed to go down; he was supposed to just be mad at her, furious with her because she ruined his family, not miserable and sad. Suddenly she can't keep her eyes open anymore; they flutter shut, long lashes hitting her skin slowly, and when he doesn't see her hazel eyes after a beat, he drops his hand immediately, only to grab her by the shoulders so she doesn't fall into the utility sink as she gasps desperately. "Quinn," he asks worriedly, pushing her knotted hair out of her face. She coughs, slender fingers touching her purpled skin cautiously. "Oh my god…"
She coughs again, choking on her own spit, throat burning every time she breathes in. She stares at the nails mixed in with drops of her blood on the disgusting concrete floor, blinking and breathing slow as she tries to comprehend what just happened. "Quinn." She can't look up at him, doesn't think she can physically raise her head without getting so dizzy that she'd pass out.
This has gone too far. This… this… Whatever the fuck this is wasn't supposed to happen at all. But it did and it was wrong, oh so very wrong, but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle. She was depressed and he was so motherfucking angry that it worked (him treating her like his own personal rag doll and her barely even fighting back). This though? The fact that he just almost killed Quinn scares him beyond belief. He knew that taking his anger out on her wasn't right, that he's actually a sick little fuck for not working through his issues normally but it's never gone this far.
"I'm so sorry," he manages to get out and it's not until those words leave his mouth that she looks up.
"Why are we like this," she mumbles voice raspy and hard. He blinks in surprise, staring at her crumbled face and colored neck as she pushes her bright sundress that doesn't belong in such a damp, dark room down. Her eyes are dry but she still looks so annihilated that he thinks this look is ten times more worse than her crying. "Why are we doing this? People don't so this." She just watched as he chocked her, she just fucking watched. It never really occurred to her when he slipped his hand around her throat that he'd kill her but now that she's still struggling for air, she thinks she might've preferred that he hadn't grown a conscious and went through with it. She feels like shit for what she's done to everyone, for what she's doing with him, that maybe it would've been better for everyone.
But she looks as the man (boy) in front of her falls to his knees, this time the nails digging into him, imprinting him and leaving harsh marks that'll be there for days. She watches as he starts sobbing, starts crying for the first time since she gave away Beth, and she realizes she's glad he didn't kill her. Because that probably would've ruined him for good and he needs to be fixed (they need to be fixed). "I'm so sorry," he repeats and she wraps her arms around his head, fingers sliding through his curls as she brings his head to rest on her stomach.
"It's okay Mr. Schuester," she says with a shaky breath as his tears soak her dress.
"I just want my family… I just want my daughter."