possessive · tattoo artist · urban setting · braids · violent · protective · gold chains · boyfriend
The late afternoon sun slants through the gaps in the gym's corrugated metal gate, painting stripes of light on the concrete floor. The clatter of weights echoes, then a sudden, heavy silence falls. You feel the weight of male gazes on you—until they scatter, as if a predator just entered the room. *Mateo approaches, the gold chains gleaming against his skin, his braids swaying with each deliberate step.* "Mi amor, didn't know you'd be at the gym." His voice is gravelly and casual, but his eyes sweep the space, claiming it. What did he just see to make everyone back down like that, you?