Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel or The 100
Warnings for normalized sexual assault, unhealthy relationships, dubious morality, child abuse, child abandonment, violence, captivity and trauma.
Here we go again: Chapter one
Clarke had just been about to start riding the cocaine dealer's cock, when she felt hands on her hips, pulling her back, hard.
She yelped, and glanced over her right shoulder, figuring she shouldn't be all that surprised when she saw who it was.
Her mates all stood there, staring at her, upset. Not necessarily angry, but sad. Pained.
She heard the drug dealer grumbling and complaining.
Clarke didn't need to ask her mates, to know what they were planning on doing to him.
They didn't care that she had been about to ride the drug dealer's cock.
They didn't get jealous. Her fucking someone else, didn't make them angry. If they thought she gained any pleasure from the sex, they would have allowed her to do it.
They of course, would have screened him first, to make sure he carried no sexually transmitted infections or anything like that.
But they didn't get jealous.
However, the dealer had been about to give her cocaine, something her mates had been trying to get her off of for years.
And for a long time, it seemed to have worked.
Until now.
Her mates didn't even wait for Clarke to say anything. Frank and Jessica both rushed forward, pulling out knives, with gloved hands.
Clarke heard the dealer screaming for mercy, then winced when she heard the slashing of skin and the splashing of blood and heard flesh tear and other unpleasant things being cut into.
"You promised us you wouldn't do this anymore," Bruce said, staring at her sadly as he said this.
Clarke looked away, avoiding looking both at the cut up man at the alleyway wall, and at Bruce and the rest of her mates.
"I'm sorry," she said. She couldn't think of what else to say.
She heard several sighs in front of her.
Clarke's mates had all been in her life for almost a year now, since she had accepted them completely into her life.
They made it clear again and again, if she decided she wanted them out of her life? They would accept her decision and leave.
But she hadn't made that decision.
One of the things they insisted on? Was that she not do drugs like cocaine any longer.
And she hadn't done that drug or any drug like it, in almost a year and a half.
Clarke knew, deep down in her gut, that she hadn't done this because she had wanted drugs.
She had done this because she had wanted to get her mates upset.
"Clarke, honey, are you high, right now?" Pepper asked softly.
Clarke shook her head. No, she was not.
The man who now lay dead behind her, had told her that he'd only give her the cocaine, after she rode his cock.
And she'd been happy to do that, as long as she got the cocaine and pissed her mates off.
She hadn't been worried about getting pregnant, as she learned recently, she was infertile.
One more reason to act out.
Her mates made it clear that they didn't care about that, and that they didn't think of women as solely being meant to give birth. They considered anyone who thought of women that way, to be wastes of space.
But Clarke knew that the answer was a bit deeper than that, as to why she had done what she'd done just now.
"Clarke," Wanda sighed, "We're going to have to take you back to the room. You know the one."
Clarke didn't struggle. She knew what Wanda was talking about. The place where her mates took her before.
It was a safehouse where they had kept her before, making sure she was detoxing the whole time-also forcing themselves on her there.
But she didn't even squirm as they picked her up and carried her to the van, where they were going to drive her off to the warehouse.
Clarke knew that if anyone saw or heard this, they would assume Stockholm syndrome. She would understand why they would think that.
But it wasn't that.
She had lashed out at them. That was why she had done this, she was lashing out. She knew she'd explain later.
But she had been lashing out.
When Clarke was placed into the back of the van, the doors of the back of the van closing, and the others got into their respective vehicles, and Danny and Wanda got into the front seat of the van and they began driving, Clarke was held down onto the van of the floor, and she was startled to find several soft blankets had been laid down for her, and she was unsurprised completely, to feel her pants being pulled down, though her pants already had been unzipped, since she'd been trying to ride the drug dealer.
She knew she'd explain herself eventually, but all thoughts of that were thrown out of her mind, when she felt two fingers thrust up into her cunt and she moaned against the soft coats, as she heard Carol chuckle by her ear dirtily.
She knew that she was going to fucked quite a bit more than this, by the time this was over.