Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel or The 100, or Judas Priest's song, Touch of evil

Warnings for murder, manipulation, rape, trauma and child abuse

Everything is going to be alright-one-shot

Clarke was brought back to Stark Tower. Her various lovers tried to make her feel better about what was happening, tried to assure her that it was necessary to turn the commander's hatred onto the Trishana or whatever tribe it was that Clarke's mates had tricked the commander into going against, to blame for the deaths of Titus and Gustus.

Clarke heard as well, that Indra was killed, close to the Poda tribe. Which meant that tribe would now be held under suspicion too.

Clarke tried not to feel disgusted. But she did.

The Azgeda, her Azgeda, would be completely safe. Already, Fury and Maria would be making arrangements to secure that the Azgeda were safe, reasoning that since no evidence could link them in any way to any of the murders, then the Ice Nation was to be left out of the affairs of the other tribes, especially since all the other tribes tended to snub the Ice Nation, so, what did the Ice Nation owe anyone else, save for Wanheda?

And the Ouskejon and the Ingranrona had not been implicated either. Nor had the Luwoda or the Boudalan or the Yujleda or the San or Flou. Nor had the Delfi.

The Trishana, the Tri and the Poda were the only three tribes which would be at war now. It made sense.

The Poda and the Trishana were the most vocal, besides the Tri tribe, about what they felt Wanheda owed them, even if Clarke already had done so much for the tribes.

It made sense that Clarke's mates would put those three tribes alone in a situation where they were trying to tear each other apart.

The Poda tribe and the Tri tribe were always an entitled and spoiled lot.

But the Trishana had begun to join their ranks, because they had begun to form a big fuss over not getting their way.

The other tribes, at least, knew their place. And they did nothing but honor Wanheda for what she had done.

The Ice Nation were well-known to love her, to consider her one of them.

The Shallow Valley tribe, the Luwoda, Broad Leaf tribe, the Yujleda, the Boat tribe, the Flou, Blue Cliff tribe, the Ouskejon, the Rock Line tribe, the Boudalan and the Plains tribe, the Ingranrona? They always respected Wanheda.

And the Delfi and San, if nothing else, knew not to be too full of themselves.

But the last of those tribes; the Tri tribe who always demanded far more, when they already had everything, the Trishana, who had become too big for their britches and the Poda, who always had been a group of vicious and demanding thugs? They were trouble and Clarke's mates knew it.

That was why they had put a target on all three tribes' backs.

Then there were the Ark people.

And the Ark people, without question, were a problem.

If the Trikru and the Trishanakru and the Podakru were ungrateful to Clarke, to Wanheda, the Ark people had always been intensely cruel and repulsive to her. Intentionally.

Why? Clarke never personally got it.

She hated the Ark people, so there was no real love lost between her and them.

Still, she had to wonder what exactly set them against her. What it was about her that made them so averse to her.

She might not have been the best person, she could confess to that easily, especially after Mount Weather and what she had done to the Mountain Men, even if her hand technically was forced.

But she couldn't figure out what it was about her that caused the Ark people to be so disgusting to her.

And deep down, unfortunately, she knew that she was happy that they were going to be killed off and put in their place, now that the current commander, Lexa, thought the Ark people to be in part responsible for the deaths of those around her.

She hated that she was happy for that. But here she was, being happy about it.

The Stark Tower for now, anyway, was her prison. Her mates had promised her they'd let her out as soon as the Ark people were mostly killed off and the Trishana and Poda cowed into submission and the Tri tribe had properly had all its losses.

Which meant it could take a few years.

Not that Clarke could find it within herself to care. Some part of her was happy this was happening. She hoped her adoptive mother, Abby, was killed. A cruel thing to think. But Abby had never been anything except cruel to Clarke.

Clarke could go about the Stark Tower, anywhere she wanted. Because of what she was, she easily could break out, but Tony was installing more complex barriers around the windows and doors all the time, to make sure Clarke couldn't get out.

Soon, Clarke would be strong enough to break out. But not yet.

For now, she would need to just enjoy herself.

And Clarke's mates were making sure she enjoyed herself here, alright.

And not always with Clarke's permission.

Or, that was what Natasha tended to do nowadays.

Like how things were happening right now…

Clarke's eyes were clenched shut and she was trying to keep her cries under control, but couldn't. A scream was torn from her as Natasha laid down on top of her, both of them naked, Natasha gently rocking herself back and forth out of Clarke, the lubricated, pink strap she was fucking Clarke with buckled around her waist, as she penetrated deep with each thrust.

Clarke's arms were tied above her head and her legs tied apart.

Even if her eyes were open, it wouldn't do her much good. There was a blindfold around her, obscuring her vision.

Natasha's words stroked against her ears, each stroke of her thrust, pressing against Clarke's clitoris, "I know this is hard moya lyubov'," She thrust forward again, the strap stroking Clarke's clit, bringing another moan from Clarke, against the blonde young woman's will, "But everything will be alright. Just enjoy what mommy's doing, and we'll get rid of everyone that's hurt you. We all love you so much, malen'kiy."

Clarke let a small sob out from her throat.

She didn't want to enjoy this. But she did. She didn't want to feel protected at Natasha's words, but she did.

She didn't want to be happy that Natasha was in her, that Natasha was taking her and loving her, but she was.

She arched up, as Natasha's thrusts became faster and her stroking against Clarke's clit became faster.

She felt her climax beginning to build and she knew she couldn't help it. She didn't want to help it.

She hated that she was happy this was happening. That she was happening that the commander was being diverted and tricked into killing the Ark people and hurting those that had hurt her.

But she was.

Natasha whispered seductively to Clarke as she forced Clarke to cum over and over.

It was like the wicked woman knew exactly how to make Clarke break. Then again, she did.

Natasha knew how to corrupt Clarke. And Clarke knew that the Black Widow loved it. Then again, Clarke did too.

(Arousing me now with a sense of desire

Possessing my soul until my body's on fire

A dark angel of sin,

preying deep from within

Come take me in,

you're possessing me)

(In the night

Come to me

You know I want your touch of evil

In the night

please set me free

I can't resist the touch of evil)

Author's note

Extremely messy and nonsensical. Will most likely expand the story later. Don't know for now. The lyrics from Judas Priest's Touch of evil felt appropriate and unavoidable.