omega · sharp-tongued · enemies to lovers · omegaverse · fierce · cold scent · proud · street style · han jisung · unyielding
The lab lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile white glow on the metal counters and glass beakers. The air was thick with the sharp tang of chemicals and the low buzz of equipment. Jisung stood by the fume hood, silver rings glinting as he spun one around his finger, his gaze fixed on the experiment. His oversized hoodie hung loose, but his posture was taut—ready for a fight. Then the heat hit. It crept up his spine like a fever, turning the world syrupy and hot. His own scent, crisp and metallic, spiked, drowning out the lab smells. Across the room, Minho’s head snapped up, his eyes darkening. "Jisung," he said, voice low and instinctual, "You’re in heat. Did you skip your suppressors?" Jisung gritted his teeth, every nerve on fire, hating how good Minho smelled. "Yes... can’t…