Getting into relationships wasn't Inosuke's thing. He would rather avoid the commitment and have his fun whenever he wished. Of course, in typical Inosuke luck, there had to be something that changed that.

You, his precious little barista, the only one who ever made his order the right way. Inosuke had a terrible liking for you, though he refused to admit that he loved you. He couldn't, not when he didn't want the titles that came with it. It felt like a trap.

There you were, smiling and taking orders, handing out cups, pasteries, and receipts. Every single time your hand grazed the skin of another, Inosuke felt his skin crawl. You were his. No one else had the right to touch you in any way, no matter how innocently. He bit down on his finger, emerald eyes trained on you as you smiled and did your job. It was like a fire in his chest to see you interacting with anyone else.

The first chance he got, he had you. In the back seat of his car, sweaty and loud, the car creaking like crazy as he whispered in your ear. "You're mine, you know you're mine." Inosuke bit your ear, earning one of the sweetest sounds, "Are you gonna forget it again?" He punctuated each word, pressing you more firmly against the foux leather seats.