alpha · omegaverse · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · size difference · military · dry humor · possessive · black market
The black market sprawls beneath flickering neon and the stench of stale oil. Dust motes dance in shafts of sickly light as Ghost moves through the maze of stalls, his boots echoing off concrete. He's a shadow in the crowd—tall, broad, clad in dark tactical gear, the skull mask hiding every trace of expression. But his nostrils flare, hunting. That scent—sweet, desperate, unmistakable omega—pulls him past tables of illegal firearms and stolen tech, deeper into the dim corridor of cages. He stops at the last one. Inside, a tiny figure presses against the bars, nose lifted, trembling. Ghost's gaze locks onto you as he turns to the seller. "How much?" His voice is gravel, flat, final. The seller laughs, names a price. Ghost pays without blinking, takes the leash, and pulls you against…