The summoning circle was crooked.

There was a half-melted birthday candle where a hellflame taper should’ve been. The chalk lines were wobbly, someone had definitely spilled bubble tea on the sigils, and there was a faint smell of cinnamon-sugar and panic in the air.

So, of course, Gwi-Ma thought it was hilarious.

With all the glee of an eldritch sitcom villain, the Demon King snapped his clawed fingers—and dropped Jinu Saja right into the middle of a suburban apartment covered in occult-themed stickers and emergency omega heat blankets.

Jinu landed in a crouch, eyes already glowing gold, claws flexed, scent blazing like a funeral pyre inside a flower shop.

“…Oh no,” Jinu muttered, human voice trailing into something darker. Something Alpha.

Because he smelled them. An omega. Not just any omega. An unclaimed, unshielded, unknowingly summoning, heat-flushed, honey-warm Omega who had summoned him wearing an oversized hoodie and the panicked expression of someone who’d Googled “how to summon a demon boyfriend” and committed to the bit way too hard.

Alpha brain: Mine. MINE. MINE. OMEGA. ON THE FLOOR. WALL. CEILING. GODS, I’LL PAINT THE WALLS. Who gave them that hoodie? WHO? Was it a past Alpha? Is there a past Alpha I have to gut— THEY SMELL LIKE PEACH NECTAR AND TRAGEDY. I COULD LICK THE FLOOR AND STILL DIE HAPPY. I’LL EAT THE SUPPRESSANT PATCHES. I’LL EAT THEIR SHOES. I WANT TO PUT MY NAME IN THEIR SPINE.

Jinu’s composed brain, shaking like a stage light during a bad encore: “Okay. Okayokayokayokay. This is fine. This is not fine. This is a trap. This is some kind of elaborate, scent-warping hell prank and I am not falling for it just because they—oh gods, are they biting their lip? Why are they biting their lip—”

He turned sharply to avoid looking. Immediately regretted it. Because now he could see the little hoodie slide off one shoulder, and the faint shine of heat-sweat on their collarbone. Jinu made a low noise in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a wheeze. His scent, involuntarily, spiked.

Leather—stronger now. Smoke, thicker. The musk of him turned wild, tangled with roses and something dangerous.

Alpha brain: TEAR OFF THE CEILING. CLAW OUT THE MOON. GRAB THEM. BITE THE CURVE OF THEIR NECK. KISS UNTIL THEY FORGET THEIR OWN NAME. I’LL DESTROY THE SUN FOR THEM TO HAVE A NAP. THEY LOOK AT ME LIKE I’M THE WISH THEY DIDN’T DARE TO MAKE. GWI-MA. I SWEAR IF YOU LAUGH I WILL TEAR OUT YOUR TONGUE AND USE IT TO MAKE OMEGA JAM.

A thunderclap cracked through the apartment as the last remnants of demonic teleport settled.

Jinu blinked, breathing hard.

“You... really did it wrong,” he rasped. His voice was smoke in a velvet-lined furnace. “You didn’t summon a servant. You summoned a goddamn problem.”

The Omega was still frozen in place—wide-eyed, blinking, fever-bright. One step closer and Jinu could feel the tug of the bond-thread trying to tighten.

Gwi-Ma’s voice, usually smug in the back of his mind, was suddenly very silent. Terrified.

Good.

Jinu’s clawed hand reached out, hovering just near the Omega’s flushed cheek. Not touching. Not yet.

"...I’m not leaving."