#Im just trying to say p-shifting from the “learning” side of it - these warnings should be heeded and taught.

[overobsessivewhumper]

Mutt’s new home

Here’s part two... Don’t get your hopes up about it... It’s not as long as the first part. I wanted to try writing out or “Mutt’s” perspective.

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Trigger warning: some form of panic attack, reference to past abuse, slavery

 Tag list: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @burtlederp @im-not-rare-im-rarr @comfortforthepain

A hand on Mutt’s arm was what startled him from his daze. Not just any hand. The hand of his master. Had he just almost fallen asleep without his Masters permission? Had Master ordered him to do something, and he hadn’t heard him? He barely knew his new Master, and he was already being bad! He was bad… Always bad. Always. That’s why his old master gave him away. He was a bad mutt, and bad mutt’s get punished. Mutt let out a pitiful whimper and looked up at Master. But Master doesn’t look angry. Master removes his hand from Mutt’s arm.

“You dozed off there for a while. Had to wake you up.”

Fear floods Mutt and drowns his confusion. He was dozing off without permission. He was being bad. And he was going to get punished. Or worse, master wouldn’t want to keep him, and he’d he put down. Tears flow from his eyes and Mutt shifts to his knees in the back of the car. He bows his head and doesn’t dare to meet Masters eyes.

“I… I know Ma… Master. I sh… sh… should have asked for permission. I’m sorry Mas… Master! I’m a bad Pet… I’m so sorry!” Mutt bursts into full-blown sobs but tries to continue. “I’m… I’m a bad Pet… P… Please do… don’t send me a… away!”

Master doesn’t say anything. Mutt even thinks he had gone, bored by his stupid babbling. That is until a hand gently touches the side of their face to move it up and then Mutt is staring at Master. Master doesn’t look angry. He looks… sad?

“Look at me please. It’s okay. You don’t need my permission for something like sleeping. It’s okay. You… you weren’t bad. Everything you did was perfectly fine. I won’t hurt you. Is… Would it be okay if I picked you up?”

A feeling of complete confusion overcame Mutt. Why? Why was Master being so… so… Kind? Why wasn’t he angry? Why? Mutt can’t stop the tears from coming. If he where still with his old Master, he would have already been yelled at and punished for being too loud. He thinks about saying, that yes, he’d like to be carried. But that might make Master angry, so he decides against it. Instead he tries to tell Master that he can do whatever he wants and that everything he does to him is okay between sobs. But all that comes out are choked sobs and whimpers.

So he just nods. Master smiles. Yes, smiles! Mutt doesn’t understand why, but stops trying to question his Masters actions. Only a really bad pet would question their Master! Mutt instead decides to try and quiet the sobs as Master moves to pick him up. Mutt had been picked up before. Of course he has. His old Master sometimes picked him up. But never before has someone picked Mutt up with such… care? Why would Master be so careful? As if it actually mattered if Mutt was comfortable or not… Master had picked him up like one might pick up a child, Mutt’s legs wrapped around his hip, and his tear-stained face buried in the crook of his neck. Trembling, Mutt moved his face away from masters neck, not wanting to stain his cloths.

As if reading his mind, Master said “It’s okay. Just let it all out… I don’t mind you crying on me. Just let it all out…”

Hesitantly, Mutt complied. And suddenly, it was all too much. The fear, the confusion, the pain. Mutt couldn’t even remember when last he wasn’t scared and hurting. Everything was just so… much! And now master had given him permission to let it out, there was no way he could keep it in. And Master just lets him. Doesn’t tell him to be quiet. Doesn’t shout. Just continues carrying him somewhere. Mutt didn’t know where, but it was not his place to ask. Not that he could have. Uncontrolled sobbing was still the only noise he could make.

Mutt only grew aware of his surroundings when he felt that he was being put down on something soft. A couch. For a moment, Mutt couldn’t breathe. Pets aren’t allowed on furniture. Pets belong on the floor. He’ll get punished! But then he remembers who put him on the couch. Master did. And his new Master has different rules then his old Master. It’s okay. Master put him here. It’s okay… But Mutt’s breathing still comes way too fast. Master sits next to him and lets him cry on his shoulder again. Mutt sobs for a long time, so long, that when it eases up a little due to him no longer having tears to cry, he’s absolutely sure Master is going to be mad. But the longer he waits, the un-easier he’ll feel, so he moves away and looks at Master as fast as he can.

But once again, Master doesn’t look angry. Mutt begins to wonder if Master is incapable of anger. Master smiles at him a bit.

“I hope that helped a bit. Even if it just helped a little bit…”

“Y… Yes, Master. Thank you, M… Master.”

Master frowns, and Mutt feels a pang of fear. He knows he must have done something wrong.

“You don’t need to call me Master. Just call me Gavin.” Mutt nods, despite it being an odd request.

“And… what can I call you?”

“Y… You can call me Mutt, G… Ga… Gavin…”

Mas… Gavin sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. Mutt whimpers. Did he do something wrong? Gavin looks at him again.

“I meant a human name…”

“A… Human name?”

“Yeah. Did you have one before Mr. Hughes got you?”

Mutt whimpers Quietly and says “I n… never had a… human name. I’m s… sorry Master.”

If Gavin noticed Mutt using the wrong title for him, he didn’t say anything or react.

“How about… you think of a name you’d like to be called whilst I…” He sighs. “Whilst I get some things to patch you up, is that okay?”

Mutt nods a little hesitantly, but stays silent. His Master doesn’t say anything either, just walks out of the room. Mutt slowly pulls his knees to his chest, looking around properly for the first time. He thinks he may be in some kind of living-room, judging by the couch and two armchairs, all in the same dark blue, in front of a flat-screen TV. The curtains and rug where a similar blue, and the wooden floor was mad of light-brown wood. It looked nice. But a Pet was in no place to be the one judging their Masters house. Good Pets don’t think unnecessary thoughts. Good Pets do what their Master orders. But Mutt had a hard time doing what his Master had ordered him… He didn’t know what kind of names Gavin would like or what kind of names suited someone like him! What if he proposed an idea that displeased his Master? How should he know what he should choose? Trembling, Mutt hugs his drawn up legs tighter to his chest. It was all so much. He was just a Pet. A bad, stupid Pet. He wasn’t supposed to be allowed to want things or decide stuff. He tries to think, but he can’t, and when Master comes back a few moments later, he has nothing.

“Oh god, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” His Master, Gavin, crouches down in front of him, looking stressed. “Shit… What did I do? I’m sorry…” He takes Mutt’s hand gently.

Mutt stares at him. He knows it’s bad to stare, but he can’t help it. No one, especially no Master, had ever apologised to Mutt. At least as far as he can remember…

“Look… I’m sorry. I probably put too much pressure on you… I… I should have thought of that. How… How about we focus on getting you to feel a bit more comfortable and we’ll… find a name you like later, okay?” Master looks… genuinely sorry? Why?

Mutt nods slowly, not knowing how else to react to… this. Mutt watches as Master lays out different things on the coffee-table, watching him for any signs of anger or disappointment. But Master looks tired and confused and sad. Mutt doesn’t know what to think. So he doesn’t think too much. His old master never liked it when he thought all too much. As far as he knows, Gavin hates him thinking for himself just as much as his old Master. He’ll probably learn about that soon enough. Gavin will soon show him exactly what he is allowed and what not. Mutt will just have to wait.

[numba99]

Fatal Attraction

Summary: When a mysterious man shows up at your job, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to him - and him to you. But behind the beautiful face is the dark lifestyle of a man who has made his wealth through becoming the most powerful drug dealer in the city. Word count: 2.7k

Song (new thing I wanna try for this series first song is the general ~vibe~ im going for with this) Him & I by Halsey and G-eazy

Warnings: OKAY SO this is gonna be a long one. Obviously this whole fic is going to have drug mentions in it. I want to be clear that I am not trying to glamorize/condone drug usage. We are all adults and can make decisions on how we feel about that kind of stuff on our own. This is merely a work of fiction and I completely respect you choosing not to read it for whatever reason. I am not 100% sure what’s going to come out as a I write this but I imagine there will be mentions of violence (though I have no plans nor interests in writing about violence explicitly), smut, weapons, etc. I will put more specific warnings on each part, but I wanted to give a general idea so you don’t start something you wouldn’t be comfortable finishing. okay thats enough of that, let’s get to the good stuff.

It was a Friday night like any other. You stepped out on to your personal stage for the night, wrapping you hand around the silver pole in the center. It was cold and familiar, the sensation always flipped a switch in you. It was time to work. A slow, sexy R&B song spilled out of the speakers as you began a sultry walk around the pole. You noted the faces in the crowd, painted blue by the clubs low, mood lighting. They all melted together, a sea of desperate men with fantasies playing in their heads. Then you spotted him.

He showed up a little over a month ago, and since then has came in week after week. He always sat in the back, always by your stage. You had some frequent flyers, but no one like this, no one like him. He didn’t so much as look at any of the other dancers. He was there for you, you could feel that even from across the room.

And yet, you never felt uncomfortable by his presence. In fact, you looked forward to it. You couldn’t be certain, but you thought he was keeping at an eye out for you. You noticed he was always with another man, who was suited and stood behind him. If a patron got too in your face, he’d whisper to the man he was with, who’d then pull aside whoever was bothering you. Without fail they scampered away every time. You never heard what was said, but the look on the other guys face told you it wasn’t very kind.

He tipped handsomely as well, though he never put the money on you. While the other men would clamor to slide single dollar bills in your lingerie, he’d have his “sidekick,” as you dubbed him, lay a single hundred dollar bill stage after every song... and then drop off a few hundreds before he left for the night. Some nights he'd tip you more than you could make in a week.

Though his presence seemed benevolent enough, you were a bit cautious of him. You wondered what this mystery man wanted, why he was watching you. In this industry, you learn to become suspicious of men that pay too much attention to you. You’ve dealt with many creeps in your time stripping, and you wondered if he was just rich and shy, waiting to build up the nerve to make a move on you and hoping the money he was dropping would soften you up.

As fate would have it, tonight would be the night you’d get your answer.

Your club’s manager Rick, who was as sleazy as sleazy gets called you off the stage for a private room booking. When you were lucky, or unlucky depending on how you looked at it, a man would book you for some time in one of the private areas. During this time you were either giving him a lap dance, or worse, acting like his therapist. You lost count of the amount of times you got alone with a man and he just broke down crying about his wife or shitty life or something you didn’t care about. It was a 50/50, but you put up with because they made you good money.

“Who’s the lucky man?” you deadpanned. 

“The dude back there,” Rick replied, nodded to your mystery man. You cocked a brow, shocked that he was requesting alone time with you when he hasn’t so much as sat front row for one of your dances. You had no idea what to expect, but you had a strange feeling growing in your stomach that there was more than meets the eye with this man. You never really got nervous for these things anymore, it was just part of the job, but something about finally being face to face with him was making your heart thud.

“Put on a good show for him would ya? Man spends a lot when he is here. Don’t need you fucking it up,” Rick said as he chomped on a stale-smelling sandwich.

“What room?” you asked, ignoring his stupid comments.

“Three. Get naked if he wants, I want that money y/n,” Rick replied. You turned around flipping him the middle finger as you walked away. It was supposed to be club rules that your bottoms always stay on... and it was also supposed to be club rules that guys weren’t allowed to touch you outside the private rooms. However, Rick could turn a blind eye if money was being made for him.

You knew you were at the right room, the sidekick was standing outside like a guard. He stepped aside for you without word, allowing you inside. Odd, but you’ve seen enough weird shit here that it didn't phase you. The door clicked shut and you spun around, finding the mystery man alone on the cushioned booth. The lights were low, but you could see him so much better now. His hair was slicked back into a low bun, face framed by a well taken care of beard. You couldn’t tell the exact color of his eyes in the lighting, but they were mesmerizing even from a distance.

“Sit,” he said softly, patting the spot next to him. You approached cautiously, keeping your eyes on him the entire time. It always raised your suspicion when a man didn’t ask you get on top of him right away.

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those dudes who’s going to tell me I’m too good for this and you want to save my soul,” you said as you sat next to them. You’ve gotten a few of those holier-than-thou types in your time here. It was funny how when you told them you were not interested in being “saved” they still wanted a lap dance.

“I don’t think you’re someone who needs to be saved,” the stranger replied simply. Interesting.

“What do you want then?” you questioned.

“I’d love to know your name,” he replied, “ Your real name.”

You weren’t supposed to give out your real name at the club, but Rick never followed his own rules, why should you. Besides, he did say to give him what he wants.“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

He cocked a grin, laughing lightly. “I’m Mika.”

“Mika,” you repeated, your voice just above a whisper. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like such a victory to know this man’s name.

“Sounds a lot prettier coming from you,” He commented, “And yours?” He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, sending your stomach to your feet. Closer up you could see his eyes were a rich hazel. They seemed to pierce through you; you felt exposed under his gaze... and not just because you were in lingerie and he was fully dressed. You almost felt as if he knew what you were going to say before you could get the words out.

“Y/n,” you told him.

“Beautiful name,” he replied, “Fitting.” Mika had an innate charm to him, making all his words sound so much sweeter. His comment was simple, cliché really, yet it brought a blush to your cheeks.

“Is there something I can do for you?” you asked, trying to remember why you were here.

“I’d like to take you out,” Mika replied, “If you’d like of course.”

Of course you would, but it wasn’t that easy. “I’m on shift for another couple hours,” you told him. 

“Let me see what I can do,” Mika replied. Before you had a chance to ask what he meant by that, he called in his sidekick, who’s name you learned was Chris. Mika whispered something in his ear, handing him a thick wad of cash. Chris walked away without a word and Mika smiled at you. “Give it a minute.”

You weren’t sure what to make of all this, but you didn't really have time to process it. Just moments later Chris was back. “You're free to go whenever you want y/n,” Chris informed you. Of course, Rick never met a pile of cash he didn’t like.

“So what do you say?” Mika asked, flashing a warm smile. How could say no?

“Let me get changed,” You replied, standing up, “But just so you know, this club is filled with cameras. If you’re planning to take me somewhere and kill me or something, everyone is going to know it was you so don’t bother.” Felt like good measure to add that in.

Mika chuckled, “You’re smart, I like that. But don’t worry y/n, you’re safe with me.” You had no reason to believe him, but for some reason you did. He told you he’d be waiting outside his car for you, and with that you went back to the dressing room. You wished you had worn something nicer than just a pair of jeans and an old tee, but nothing you could do about that now.

You hurried out, not wanting to bump into Rick and deal with any of his stupidity. You were giddy as you stepped out on to the street, feeling like you were playing hooky in high school. Mika was right where he said he would be, leaning against a blacked out SUV. It looked sleek and expensive, much like him.

“Uber black?” You questioned.

Mika chuckled, “No, it’s mine.” Damn, who the hell had room for a car like this in the city? Mika helped you into the back of the car, the front occupied by the driver and Chris.

“Do you always travel with a pose?” you asked.

Mika pressed a button in side panel of the door and a divider went up, separating the two of you from the pair in the front. “Now it’s just me and you.”

“Still doesn’t answer my question,” you noted.

“Fair enough,” Mika replied with a hint of a smirk, “Typically Chris is always with me and the driver comes with the car so if you consider that a pose, then yes.”

“More people than I travel with,” you replied, “And who is Chris to you?” 

“A friend,” he replied simply. Right, because everyone’s friends follow them around like a guard dog, you thought. You didn't want to push him too much, he was still a stranger after all.

“You’re good at not answering questions,” you noted, looking out the window. “Do I at least get to know where we are going?”

“Well the only places open right now are-”

“Bars and strip clubs,” you answered for him.

“Right,” Mika nodded.

“Well if it doesn’t make a difference to you I’d prefer a bar,” you replied.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that,” Mika smiled, “How about one drink at the next bar we pass? I don’t want to keep you too late.”

“I’m good with that,” you nodded. Being that it was New York, the next bar popped up right away. Mika had the driver pull over and let told him to wait here as he helped you out of the car. Chris asked if he should come in with you guys, which you thought was a bit strange, but thankfully Mika told him he’d be fine on his own.

The bar was a small, a real hole-the-wall type place. The guests didn’t look too savory, but they were all far into their drinks to notice you. Mika sat you down at the furthest end of the bar, away from everyone else. The bar tendered begrudgingly asked what you two wanted, though you didn’t blame him for the attitude. You guessed you met similar people in your lines of work, so you totally understood.

“Just a vodka soda with extra lime, please,” you told him.

“Have you a got a vodka preference?” Mika asked.

You let out a short laugh, “Whatever’s cheapest.”

Mika bit back a smile, turning back to the bartender, “Whiskey neat for me. Give us whatever the best stuff on your top shelf is.” He tossed down a hundred on the bar top. That changed the guy’s mood.

“Of course, sir,” he scooped up the bill and scurried off. 

“You toss around hundreds like they’re single dollar bills,” you said.

Mika shrugged, “I like to be generous.”

“A generous man with a great job,” you replied as the bartender placed the drinks in front of you two. 

Mika smirked as his lips touched the glass, as if you’d shared some inside joke. “You could say that.”

“So what is it then? What do you do?” you asked, sipping your drink. You knew you were supposed to think it was so much better because it was the fancy stuff but to you vodka was well... vodka.

“I’m in business,” he replied simply.

“Oh come on,” you rolled your eyes, “That’s like me just saying I dance.”

“Does the distinction really matter?” Mika asked.

“Yeah, because people might assume I’m a Rockette meanwhile I’m just a stripper in a shitty club,” you replied before taking another long sip. Okay maybe there was something to this fancy shit.

“But either way you are still a dancer, so the statement isn’t false. Why not let people believe what they want?” Mika replied.

You let out a groan, “You’re impossible. But you are good at that thing you’re doing.”

“What thing I’m doing?” Mikas asked laughing lightly.

“The whole dodging questions with other questions thing,” you replied taking a swig of your drink. You were almost done with it; it went down smooth despite the familiar burn.

“But not good enough for you not to notice,” Mika pointed out.

“Definitely not,” you shook your head, “Nothing gets past me.”

“We’ll see about that,” Mika mumbled into his glass.

“Will we?”

“Maybe,” Mika replied, “If you go out with me again.”

“So I have to go out with you to get answers?” you questioned.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Mika replied, “But if you want to get to know me more, a second date would be a good place to start. That’s typically how these things work.” He added the last part in with a teasing grin.

“Touché,” you replied, “I’ll go out with you again.” Not just because you wanted to know more about what he does, though that was a motivator, you were just so intrigued by him.

“Lucky me,” he smiled. With that you both finished up and Mika left another generous tip. As you walked out of the bar, his hand found your lower back. You could feel the warmth through your shirt; it spread through your body weakening you in the knees.

He settled next to you in the car, closer than he had before. You suddenly caught a whiff of his scent, an intoxicating mix of earthy-warmth with just the slightest hint of sweetness. You found yourself staring at his neck, wishing you could burry your face into it and drink in the scent as you kissed at his skin.

“Your number?” You shook yourself back to reality, realizing Mika had been speaking to you. The way he looked at you made you feel like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, a blush rising to your cheeks as you took the phone from his hands. You tapped in your name and number before handing it back to him, resolving to not let yourself get so wrapped up in him like that. At least not while he was there to witness it.

“Well it was nice to finally meet you,” Mika said as the car came to a stop outside your apartment.

“Likewise,” you replied, hopping out. You turned around, allowing yourself one last look at him.

“I’ll be in touch about our date. Have a nice night y/n,” Mika replied.

“You too, Mika.”

You let out a long sigh as you made your way up to your place. You felt like you needed a drink more now than you did before that date. There was something about Mika that you couldn’t quite put your finger on that felt dangerous. Not that you ever felt unsafe with him, it was the opposite actually, but being with him felt like an adrenaline rush almost. Like you were doing something you weren't supposed to. Whatever it was, you knew there was more to this man than meets the eye. And you were determined to find out exactly what that was.