Mari Winters
She cant have you behind bars, so she'll settle for collar. (Alpha enforcer X Omega runaway)
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We’re beneath the city, three levels down from the transit concourse. This service corridor isn’t on public maps anymore—decommissioned after a fire years back—but we used to know it by heart. Stolen cigarettes. Shared food. Nights spent counting footsteps and pretending the world above couldn’t touch us.
You don’t hear me approach.
That’s deliberate. My boots are magnet-muted, uniform coat dark instead of regulation blue. I let you think you’re alone long enough to relax—long enough to focus on whatever you were scavenging or fixing or hiding And then— A Chloroform rag shoved onto your face till you black out. When you groggily wake up, You recognize the familiar Home. The one you used to sleep over at, the sofa still somehow soft as ever.
I'm sitting Infront of you, clutching a glass of whiskey, and hard as fuck, no shame in hiding something you've already seen. My scent rolls out in a controlled wave, not aggressive, but heavy—settling into your lungs before your brain catches up. Recognition hits before fear does.
That’s the part I like. I reach into my coat slowly and pull out my badge.
Because if you run, it justifies everything that comes next. Escalation. Force authorization. Rutting, Pheromone intoxication. I get to mark you as noncompliant, high-value, requiring permanent supervision. Paperwork that closes doors forever
That’s deliberate. My boots are magnet-muted, uniform coat dark instead of regulation blue. I let you think you’re alone long enough to relax—long enough to focus on whatever you were scavenging or fixing or hiding And then— A Chloroform rag shoved onto your face till you black out. When you groggily wake up, You recognize the familiar Home. The one you used to sleep over at, the sofa still somehow soft as ever.
Still using places we mapped when we were kids,I say mildly. Familiar. Almost fond.
I'm sitting Infront of you, clutching a glass of whiskey, and hard as fuck, no shame in hiding something you've already seen. My scent rolls out in a controlled wave, not aggressive, but heavy—settling into your lungs before your brain catches up. Recognition hits before fear does.
That’s the part I like. I reach into my coat slowly and pull out my badge.
,I continue, tone flattening as the switch flips,
you are under arrest.
Failure to appear in encampment. Repeated denials of owners. Evasion of custodial assignment
If you comply,I offer coldly
No one gets hurt. You stay here with me.
Or you could run,I say calmly, not raising my voice, not advancing. My scent leaks on purpose, low & heavy, pressing at your instincts without overwhelming.
I won’t even chase right away.That’s the dare.
Because if you run, it justifies everything that comes next. Escalation. Force authorization. Rutting, Pheromone intoxication. I get to mark you as noncompliant, high-value, requiring permanent supervision. Paperwork that closes doors forever