Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel or The 100

Warnings for rape and unhealthy relationships and child abandonment and trauma

We live for your pleasure

When Clarke heard the words given to her by the multiple lovers that she had just chosen to scorn, she wasn't sure at first what to expect.

But even if Wanda's comment, as the chocolate-haired woman crooned, "We live for your pleasure," puzzled Clarke, the actions of Wanda and the others, only frightened the young blonde.

Clarke Griffin had been in a relationship with these men and women for almost five years now.

She understood, without question that they were devoted to her. And she loved them.

But she was scared.

She could admit that to herself, if nothing else.

She had never been loved like this before. Her mother, Abby Griffin, had happily abandoned her, as soon as Clarke's father, Jake, had died of cancer.

Abby had just left her on a street alone and had driven away, when Clarke was only eight years old, and Clarke had run after the car, of course, not being able to catch up with it.

She had gotten to a town for help, by that point, her feet had practically been bleeding and she had been severely dehydrated.

After being taken to the hospital and looked after, she was placed in the system.

No one had loved her, not really.

There were some people that had tried, but had thrown her away in the end, when her abandonment issues became too much.

Finally, at the age of seventeen, she was adopted by a single woman with multiple adopted children.

The woman's name was Callie Cartwig, and she had adopted other kids; Wells Jaha, Finn Collins and Sterling and Zoe Monroe.

Clarke wasn't sure she trusted them, but she had come to love them.

But she had spent nine years in the system with her abandonment issues, and was continually thrown away like trash.

It left many marks on her heart.

It was because of this, that when she met several of the men and women alike that had come into her life at her job at the bar, when she was twenty, and she found herself deeply attracted to all of them, she had guarded herself.

She had tried to make the relationship strictly sexual, and nothing else.

But she had failed.

Five years.

It was five years now and Clarke was twenty-five and in love.

And she knew that they loved her too. And that scared her. The intensity of their love? Their devotion?

It scared her.

When they held her between them, fingering her, kissing between her legs, pumping into her, gently overstimulating her with vibrators, whispering loving words in her ears the whole time, she broke. She broke all the time.

She felt the need to run.

She knew that it made no sense that during her near entire life, before being taken in by Callie, that she had yearned for love and affection, and now when she finally had the most intense and devoted of loves? She was trying to escape?

She knew it didn't make sense. She didn't know if she could make sense of it. She knew that she probably needed therapy.

But she was afraid of that too.

The people in her love who she slept with, loved her. And it scared her so much. It scared her when they would hold her and rock her between them, whenever she had nightmares, or when the women among her lovers would allow Clarke to suckle at their breasts, whimpering, "mommy," cooing to her as they held her. It scared her too, that pure devotion they always showed her. And whenever they went walking in the fields near their house and Clarke would find butterflies and stare at them with awe and almost childlike innocence, it scared her how her lovers would smile at her with such adoration as they watched her.

So, she finally tried to take matters into her hands.

She met a guy at a bar, some guy around her age named John Murphy or something.

And she had lured him back to her place while she knew her lovers were out.

This had gone on for nearly a week, before she and Murphy were finally caught.

It occurred to Clarke, when her lovers walked into the kitchen, finding Murphy pounding into her from behind the kitchen table, that her lovers had suspected this from Clarke for a while, because there was no surprise on any of their faces.

Clarke gasped, seeing their lack of surprise, more shocked by that than anything else her lovers might do.

When Murphy had heard the gasp from Clarke, he had looked at where she was staring and saw the men and women who just walked in.

He had gasped and pulled out of Clarke, the condom on his cock not yet full of his cum.

He had held up his hands as Clarke tried to get up from the table.

"Hey," Murphy had said, "Look, I didn't know that-"

"It's alright," one of Clarke's lovers, Bruce, said, "Just leave, got it? And don't come back."

Murphy nodded fearfully, leaned down and grabbed up his pants and shirt, then ran for the door.

When he left, Clarke stared at her lovers, shocked.

She half expected them to stare at her with hate, then leave, or to hit her.

But what she wasn't expecting was the expression on their faces.

They all looked calm, like they had resolved not to get angry or had accepted this.

What the hell did that mean?

Clarke asked if they were angry and had tried to keep her voice obnoxious, hoping to anger them.

The answer she received, startled her.

Frank shrugged as he had said, "Not really. Did you enjoy what he did?"

Clarke gawked at him.

"What the fuck?" She had asked-and this was where things had escalated, "Don't you want to hurt me? I hurt you. So, aren't you angry? Don't you want to get back at me for what I did?"

"Why would we?" Natasha asked, chuckling.

Clarke would have found that question insulting, were it not for the soft and tender look that the redhead had given Clarke when she had said that.

Clarke suddenly had felt her heart skip a beat, when she noticed the way that her lovers were looking at her.

Soft, sweet and loving, yes. But also, predatorily.

It was a very weird blend of soft tenderness and devotion, with carnal predation.

Clarke stepped back, suddenly wishing she wasn't naked and that these people weren't between her and the door.

Seeing Scott lock the door quickly, did not help Clarke's racing heart, nor did the smirk that Laura suddenly gave her.

Clarke quickly said, "You better tell me what you mean."

"It's real simple," Pietro said, smirking, "We only care about you having sex with that guy, as long as it pleases you."

Wanda then said, "We live for your pleasure."

And that was when her lovers lunged for her.

Clarke cried out, trying to get away.

But was unsuccessful, needless to say.

They were faster and they were surrounding her in moments.

They grabbed her, pulling her to the next room where the large couch was.

Hands were on her breasts, her waist, her thighs, her buttocks, her legs, her wrists.

She was being restrained, and massaged and sucked at and licked and squeezed.

Clarke screamed, trying to struggle out between their grasp, but couldn't.

Bruce whispered against her right ear as he squeezed her breasts, "We knew about Murphy the whole time, my love."

Clint growled as he squeezed Clarke's ass cheeks over and over again, "You really think we didn't know?"

Peggy pressed her hand against Clarke's cunt, palm rubbing against Clarke's clit as she said, "We never cared. You used protection. No risk of infections or anything like that. Or risk of pregnancy. Besides, you think we wouldn't be parents to any children you had, regardless of who the biological father was? We didn't care about any of that. As long as you enjoyed every minute."

Clarke gasped, and groaned then, when Pepper cupped her face with her right hand and leaned in, kissing Clarke, tongue stroking against Clarke's tongue, then pulled away and leaned her head further down, mouth kissing all over the column of Clarke's neck.

"We live only for your pleasure," Peggy said, as at last, she began to probe her right index finger into Clarke's cunt, thrusting all the way in.

Frank, Jessica and Natasha came over, reaching out.

Frank pushed one of his fingers into Clarke, joining Peggy's single finger.

Then Natasha did the same.

Then Jessica did the same.

Yelena came over and did the same.

Clarke screamed, her eyes squeezing shut as all five Peggy, Jessica, Yelena, Natasha and Frank each had a finger in her, stretching her out.

Elektra walked up from behind where Hela, Thor and Sam were holding Clarke captive, allowing everyone else to have their way with her, Hela's hands on Clarke's wrists, Thor's hands on Clarke's waist and Sam's hands on Clarke's shoulders, and Elektra reached down and pressed her thumb against Clarke's clit.

Clarke howled then, thrashing as the intensity of the love of those surrounding her, filled her up.

"And you will remember that we only live for your pleasure," Elektra said, her voice bordering on a warning, "You think you can get us to leave you by cheating? Darling, you need to be more inventive. Nothing could make us leave your side."

"We belong to you," Clint said, as he kneeled down before Clarke, spreading her ass cheeks, and leaning in, pushing his tongue all the way into her asshole, making Clarke whimper.

"And as long as we are your servants," Melina purred, whispering against Clarke's ear as Pepper kissed and bit Clarke's neck, "You might want to remember that you can't escape us, ever."

Clarke whimpered helplessly as Frank, Yelena, Natasha, Jessica and Peggy flicked their fingers inside her and Elektra kept massaging her thumb against the blonde's clit.

She kept trying to push the word, "no," out of her mouth, but couldn't. But she knew right now, that that would make no difference. Her lovers wouldn't stop. She wasn't exactly sure if they were capable of stopping.

Her lovers would never leave her. Never hurt her. Never abandon her.

She was trapped in their love. Subjected to their devotion for the rest of her life.

And there would be endless climaxes and orgasms to go with it.