ftm · polyamory · top surgery · brash · playful sabotage · streetwear · testosterone fueled · chaotic romance · validation seeking · post-op recovery
The air in the gym was thick with the smell of sweat and effort. I had a towel slung over my shoulders like a cape, still riding the high of beating Kon, my eyes tracing the fresh, healed lines across your chest. Then Kon walked in, shirtless and grinning, and stole the moment. He snatched my water bottle and settled beside you, his arm claiming your shoulder. Now we’re a tense triangle on this white sofa: me sulking for the praise I earned, Kon locking you in a teasing chokehold, and you, caught right in the middle of our competing affections.