#the eroticism of scar kissing

[tategaminu]

callum has memorized EVERY single one of her scars (like. hundreds. he's dedicated)

She's very self conscious about her scars so Callum makes sure to remember all of them to show he doesn't mind at all and still finds her beautiful. They are proof of how rough her two years alone were and kisses them tenderly 🥹🥹🥹

[seven-meds]

Stumbled upon some romantic passages I collected years ago while researching aberrant sexuality and historical eroticism. Unfortunately I did not write down the specific book I obtained them from (aside from the case studies it was unhelpful).

Transcriptions:

Case 34. A man had an inamorata who would allow him to blacken her hands with coal or soot. She then had to sit before a mirror in such a way that he could see her hands in it. While conversing with her, which was often for a long time, he looked constantly at her mirrored hands, and finally, after a time, he would take his leave, fully satisfied.

Case 65. (Dr. Pascal, ibid.) A gentleman in Paris was accustomed to call on certain evenings at a house where a woman, the owner, acceded to his peculiar desire. He entered the salon in full dress, and she, likewise, in evening dress, had to receive him with a very haughty manner. He addressed her as "Marquise," and she had to call him "dear Count." Then he spoke of his good fortune in finding her alone, of his love for her, and of a lover's interview. At this the lady had to feel insulted. The pseudo-count grew bolder and bolder, and asked the pseudo-marquise for a kiss on her shoulder. "There is an angry scene; the bell is rung; a servant, prepared for the occasion, appears, and throws the count out of the house. He departs well satisfied, and pays the actors in the farce handsomely.

Case 48. A married man presented himself with numerous scars of cuts on his arms. He told their origin as follows: When he wished to approach his wife, who was young and somewhat "nervous," he first had to make a cut in his arm. Then she would suck the wound and during the act become violently excited sexually.

[mrboypussy]

the eroticism of showering top surgery scars with gentle touches and bite marks and kisses and hickeys and

[andr0nap]

(slides in) I have been infected with mecha AU ideas after writing that little piece, including: Wolfwood having used a Tesla AI and "retiring" from piloting because it freaked out and almost killed him via the neural link (he's got some nasty burn scars on his arms from it, also the horrible mental scars). Rem having been a mechanic who found Vash and Nai as unique AI spawned from Tesla and the dependent Plant based VIs. Knives getting Rem killed and Vash put out of commission by going rogue and trying to infect/control the VIs. Vash pspsps'ing Wolfwood into being his pilot and then absolutely menacing him because he's funny when he's flustered. The general eroticism of pilot and unshackled AI working in perfect sync. 🙏

YEAAAAH LETS GOOOOO i love this!! the twins being actual AI is chefs kiss!! this is so cute, vash being a little menace to ww for his own entertainment its SO funny

[boygina-philosopher]

I take off my skin. It's laden with dog fur.

Only bastardized women do such a thing.

Disgusting showcase of inhumanity for women. Perverse and disobedient, it's sickening for a man to do.

My sinew, teeth and scars wrap around you.

If only. They hover.

Would you kiss my head and clean my ears if you knew my heart exceeds skin? My blood pulls it taut if I know you too long.

I let you catch my midnight ballet. My spotlight becomes pale, rosy pink.

I give you my skin.

I will die of starvation to keep you, but I will die agonizing and empty, because you will never know how hungry I am, how appetizing you are.

Why I need to starve.

You take my skin.

My heart my ribs my arteries burst from beneath my muscle, exposed and grotesque, naked beyond the flesh, beyond eroticism.

You accept my offer.

I cannot eat, I need to be eaten.

I tear your skin, squeezing you with my tendrils. How sheepish I am to be like this with you.

You bite me and my muscle is caught between your teeth.

How full I feel, when starved.

My spine latches onto your ribs, I need your heart. Your hands feel red hot and radiating, gashes against bone.

When the reward is gone from animalism, when we can only create, will you refuse to do so?

Please?

Not "for" or despite." An ardonist symphony with no explanation.

The blood does not dry in time's wake. I will nevermore. We are viscera, indistinguishable from one another.

[ao3feed-zukka]

the fourth ring

Read now on Ao3 at https://ift.tt/yDrqzX2 by sulkybender Sokka comes to the fights because he’s angry. He gives the watchword at the door and the walls fall away, coming back together seamlessly behind him; and the world inside the walls smells like sweat and chalk and blood, a tang in the darkness. It’s elegant, the way he fights, the boy with the scar. Words: 4469, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Katara (Avatar) Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), alt canon, secret fighting rings, pugilists to lovers, Kisses, Smut, angry boys being angry together, the inherent eroticism of knocking each other out Read it on Ao3 at https://ift.tt/yDrqzX2

[meowww-ffxiv]

To be fair to Liios and Estinien, they kept saying they weren't dating because both of them did not know what this kind of love was...supposed to look like?

They were 100% monkeing it right. The soft mornings spent laying in bed together, naked skin against naked skin, no hurry to get up. Estinien remembering how Liios liked his evening mug of chai and getting him that. Liios handling the upkeep of Estinien's weapons and armor, being trusted enough to do it (warrior's eroticism, you wouldn't understand).

But to say this was uhhhh uuuuuuuh "love"? Dating??? Unthinkable.

Estinien twirled a strand of Liios's thick, soft hair around his finger. Kissed it. Liios traced the scars on Estinien's shoulder and arm where Nidhogg's eyes had once gouged into his soul and flesh, while humming a Coerthan lullaby Estinien could still remember from his bygone childhood. The comfort of strength in one another, the comfort of vulnerability chosen to be shown.

Afraid. They were so afraid. They were so happy but the terror, it loomed over them. Bodies and hearts drawn tense with remembered losses and the fear that this happiness too would be torn away. They won the fight against despair itself but Liios and Estinien were too old, too world-weary, to forget that when tragedy struck it often came from where you least expected. And it would always strike true.

So they clung to each other and-- and--

They weren't lovers.

[imhereforscm]

Requesting a human Tauxolouve x vampire mc smut from Tauxolouve's perspective. Soft and gentle please. Thank you 💗

"I want to see you"

Genre: smut

Warnings: nsfw, blood (not much, but still blood)

A/N: Voltage needs to see what is happening, so they can make more Tauxolouve stories. People crave and bounce for this man.ᕙ⁠(⁠ ͡⁠◉⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠◉⁠)⁠ᕗ

The moonlight kissed and caressed her skin and I felt slightly jealous. I wanted to be the one to do it.

My hands reached out to wrap around her waist from behind, as her beautiful and porcelain face was lifted to the night sky.

The low temperature of my little lady's body mixed with mine and I pushed some hair away from her neck, my lips finding her cold skin, which lacked a pulse. "You can see the stars better tonight." I spoke in a low voice.

"Yeah," She agreed, whispering back to me. "you can see every constellation." She turned to face me, her rose red irises boring into mine, their shape so appealing and as she narrowed them, a look so seductive and captivating came forth. "But tonight... I don't want to see the constellations." She leaned into me, her neck craning to the side to kiss my neck and her touch, soft yet cool as snow trailed down my arms to my forearms with such eroticism. "I want to see you."

I smiled slyly and closed my eyes, feeling her tongue darting out and her lips joining in worshiping the skin of my neck in kisses. "I was thinking the same." My fingers slipped between her soft hair as I held her face there and sighed as I felt the tips of her fangs grazing my skin. "Are you going to leave a mark tonight, little lady?"

She pulled away a little, her nose touching the crook of my neck. "Are you okay with that?"

"Will it leave a permanent mark?"

She shook her head. "No. The bite will go away in a few hours."

"Good." My fingers caressed her arms and pushed down the straps of her dress, which made her look so ethereal between the flowers of the meadow, its white fabric standing out between the layers of night's velvet gown. "Because I wouldn't want a scar making me look less attractive to your eyes."

She smiled and her eyes casted down on my shoulder and I knew that if blood was flowing in her body, it would have rushed to her cheeks by now. Growing embarrassed of my flirtatious gaze on her, she fell to her knees onto the ground and with my hand in hers, she pulled me down along.

"You want to make love out here in the open?" I chuckled, yet my loving gaze made clear I was only teasing her. "Well, aren't you brave?"

"No one comes here, aside from birds that lull you during night time and hide into the trees." She said and guided my hands back on her body. "No one will disturb us, so long as you don't let the nightingales' singing put you to sleep in case they do fly here tonight."

"My sweet sweet, dove." That's what she looked like in her white dress. So pure and beautiful. Like a dove. "No siren, nightingale nor kelpie could ever take my attention from you." I tugged on her simple white dress and it slipped down her body, exposing her luscious skin to my craving eyes. "Your body's truly ethereal."

She smiled gently and started undressing me, by taking the shirt I was wearing off and pushing me down softly, so my bare back could feel the short grass beneath us.

The fresh scents of flowers and grass enveloped us within their embrace and we soaked into the atmosphere.

I hugged (name) close and she crawled a little higher on top of me, bringing her breasts in front of my face. I invited myself in, my lips kissing them sloppily as I cupped them with both hands, giving them a squeeze, which made her moan. My tongue swirled around her nipple, as I traced the other softly with my thumb, feeling them both erecting in need. My teeth closed around it really gently, merely grazing it and the rest was taken care of by my lips, sucking on it with erotic sounds coming off.

She slipped her fingers through my hair and pressed my face between her breasts, her chest rising and falling with her breathing, that was growing heavy.

I licked and kissed the spot between her breasts, while all the while, I felt their softness at the sides of my face. I hugged her even closer, her delicate form vibrant with elegance and sexiness, making me want her more and more with each touch and gaze. "You can sense what I feel," vampires could do that. "so you must know how much you turn me on."

"I do." She gave me a breathy response and folded with the belt of my pants and then pulled them down, enough to have access to my cock, which ached and begged for her. "And it's making me feel so beautiful."

"You are."

"It's making me feel so desired."

"You are that too."

Her crimson eyes rose and met with mine. Human and inhuman met and created passion. Love. Desire. "You make me feel as if I'm alive." She gripped my cock, her cold fingers wrapping around it and making me hiss out in pleasure, my jaw hanging open, when she began to move her hand up and down my length.

My hold tightened around her hips, my fingertips pressing into her skin, too scared to let my nails do it, in case it hurt her even a little. I moaned louder, feeling the pace of her hand pick up speed and my cock twitched, my balls swollen with cum and some precum slipping from my tip. "Dove..." I panted, feeling ready to release. "I'm going to come...!"

She crawled backwards and bent forward, holding her breasts with both hands she motioned with her head towards them, her silky hair swaying with indescribable elegance.

I raised my hips and my cock slipped between her breasts. I moaned louder and adopted a rhythm, moving my hips up and down, my cock growing harder with each thrust within her chest, until I cried out and came, the cum going to her sternum by the momentum. The coolness of the grass was balancing out the rising temperature of my body and my chest was moving visibly as I tamed my breathing.

Her head dipped, her fangs coming in contact with my shoulder and gently sinking into my skin. It didn't hurt. It was just a mere tingle, which actually felt pleasurable between the arousal that overtook our entangled bodies. (Name) kissed the spot she bit down on and started sucking on the tiny puncture wound, drinking slowly from my blood. She raised her hips a little and then sat back down, my cock entering her. She moaned and I felt the vibrations through our touching chests and her mouth onto my shoulder.

We held hands and my thumb traced her porcelain skin, as she rocked her hips against mine, the tip of my cock hitting all the right spots within her.

She moaned with a voice so melodic, I could have sworn her vocal cords were dipped in aphrodisiac. "Lou..." She gasped out my name and licked a droplet of blood that was forgotten earlier. "Hold me tighter. Please...!"

We embraced each other tightly and the desperation of which she held me with made me feel like I was a part of her and she was a part of me. Our bodies so close and connected.

Her breasts were pressed against my chest and I felt them bouncing with her movements, turning me on so much, my thrusts picked up the pace.

"Lou!" She cried out my name and I nuzzled my nose into her neck, taking in her enchanting scent as I felt myself reaching my release for the second time tonight. "Lou, I'm goi-" But she didn't get to finish, before she came undone around my cock and her walls clenching around me brought me to my own ecstasy as well.

Her hold on me loosened up, yet she didn't let go of me and I didn't either.

She laid her head on my collarbones and closed her eyes, listening to my heart beating wildly as my breathing remained ragged at first. "Your heart..."

"It's normal." I chuckled, caressing her cheek with my thumb.

She shifted and laid between my legs, her chin on my chest as she looked up at me with these beautiful and beloved eyes of hers. "You're warmer then usual too."

"That's normal too, my little lady." I pressed a kiss to her forehead and held her face in my hands, admiring this precious and pretty, like no other, being.

"It's been so long since I've touched a human, other than you, I guess I forgot." She let go of a breathy laugh and turned her face to her right, kissing the palm of my hand. "Hey... Lou...?"

I hummed in response, feeling her nestling safely against my chest.

"I love you."

"I love you too, my sweet sweet dove."

[righteousinadversity]

Reblogging this with my original propaganda for a final boost!

Our ship name, Wangxian, is actually the name of the song Lan Wangji sings for Wei Wuxian when he is injured and feverish in canon. The same song is how Lan Wangji recognises Wei Wuxian when he is brought back to life in a different body. Because no one else has ever heard that song!!

Lan Wangji is absolutely a pining maiden of a man, and we love him for it. He sees one mischevious boy with a brilliant smile break every rule his sect has and try to bring alcohol into the premises and has too many feelings and decides that the best way to resolve this is violence. #Inherent eroticism of fighting your crush on a rooftop

Wei Wuxian is a teasing, flirty man who is a complete romantic, and has his first kiss in his twenties, and then the next well into his next life. He also meets a cold, jade like boy who seems like nothing can bother him and decides immediately that he absolutely must be talking to him at all time, must have him looking at him at all time, no need to think too deeply about it.

They have a darling son, Lan Sizhui. Wei Wuxian saved his life, and protected him, and when Wei Wuxian is killed, Lan Wangji, injured and hurting, finds the child and takes him to safety and raises the child. Wei Wuxian buries Sizhui in soil, Lan Wangji buries him in a pile of bunnies.

Gifts! Wei Wuxian is always throwing flowers at Lan Wangji, draws a portrait of him with a flower in his hair, gets him his first pair of rabbits (Leading to an entire rabbit field in a sect that forbids pets). Lan Wangji writes him the aforementioned song, is always buying him everything he wants. They are married your honor.

Their love confession started with Wei Wuxian announcing in the middle of a hostage situation : "Back then, I-I really wanted to sleep with you!" #Priorities.

They eloped immediately after this, and went on their honeymoon.

Lan Wangji, the shy, blushing (his ears turn red!) one is the top, and Wei Wuxian, forever flirty, is the bottom.

Wei Wuxian, seeing a monster biting Lan Wangji, rips its jaw open with his bare hands.

Lan Wangji, when faced with his elders who want to harm an unconcious Wei Wuxian, fights them. This results in him being almost whipped to death, leaving him with scars that last him for all of his life.

(TW: self Harm) Wei Wuxian has a brand on his chest that he took to save a girl. When Wei Wuxian dies, Lan Wangji in grief gets really drunk and brands himself to carry a piece of his love with him.

'Everyday is Everyday'. This is about sex. They make it a point to fuck everyday after spending so long dealing with all the outside world bullshit and missing out on precious time.

The forehead ribbon on Lan Wangji? That's meant to symbolise self restraint and discipline. The only ones allowed to touch it are close family members and your partner. Wei Wuxian has multiple times tugged at it without knowing about the significance, sending Lan Wangji into feelings galore~. The first time he does this, Lan Wangji breaks the bow he is holding from his grip. #LWJ's horny grip.

The forehead ribbon is also used for, ahem, bedroom fun times. #Inappropriate use of the forehead ribbon 😜

There is a beautiful phrase used in the chinese fandom, that goes "只羡忘羡不羡仙" (zhi xian Wangxian bu xian xian). It is based on a line from Chang'an nostalgia by Lu Zhaolin that goes "只羡鸳鸯不羡仙" (zhi xian yuan yang bu xian xian) which means “be envious of lovebirds, not of immortals”. As in, it is much more desirable to lead a mortal life with your loved one than to live forever. In the fandom expression though, lovebirds is replaced with Wangxian. As in, 'be envious of Wangxian, not of immortals'. Made all the more sweet because immortality is possible in the world of MDZS.

Lan Wangji, after Wei Wuxian's death, starts to keep Emperor's smile, Wei Wuxian's favourite brand of alcohol, under the floorboard's in his home. This is absolutely adorable for two reasons - 1) Alcohol is forbidden in his sect and Lan Wangji is upheld as a paragon of rule following, and 2) The first time Wei Wuxian visits the sect, Lan Wangji stops him from bringing the same alcohol into the sect and even gets them both punished!

Lan Wangji first kisses Wei Wuxian when he is blindfolded, and proceeds to angrily start slashing at trees for doing so without asking for permission! This means that much later, when a drunk Lan Wangji is kissed by Wei Wuxian, he smacks himself on the forehead and makes himself faint. (Wei Wuxian also has a similar panic proceeding this, thinking he forced Lan Wangji)

Speaking of drunk shenanigans! Lan Wangji has no alcohol tolerance, and is a one drink and done kind of boy. This leads to him trying to recreate everything Wei Wuxian has ever mentioned himself enjoying when he was younger including - stealing chickens, jujubes, and vandalism. The vandalism in particular are the words 'Lan Wangji of Gusu and Wei Wuxian of Yunmeng were here' (He makes Wei Wuxian write his name) with a drawing of two kissing figures!! #Simping forever and ever

More about the chicken stealing - Chickens are often given as dowry (or bride price, I am not certain about which)

Wei Wuxian is always waxing poetic about Lan Wangji, and in the firm belief that it is not his crush speaking but the universal truth. (I mean.... he's not wrong either so...)

Both of them have carried the other at some point. Bless them. Wei Wuxian gave him a piggyback ride as they both are trying to outrun a murder tortoise and Lan Wangji bridal carried him when he had a curse on his leg.

I will bite anyone who calls either of them a twink. Wei Wuxian did not pull an arrow out of his body, throw it back, and kill the one who shot him to be called a twink. Similarly, Lan Wangji did not lift a massive statue, a coffin, and three people, all with one hand, for this slander.

Fandom things:

'Sexytimes with Wangxian', a fic that clogged the search and tag system so much that AO3 decided to change its policy. That one post going around like 'what do you die of' and its a bunch of ao3 tags you zoom into this? This masterpiece (derogatory? Affectionate?) right here.

Inspired the RPF that pissed of some puritanical chinese netizens so much that they got AO3 banned in the country.

They have enemies-to-lovers. They have friends-to-lovers. They have forbidden love. They have slow burn. They have fast burn. They have mutual pining. They are everything.

AO3 Top Relationships Bracket- Quarterfinals

This poll is a celebration of fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.

[cr1t1cal-darl1ng]

the inherent eroticism of gently kissing someone who's a reject of society just like you.

the inherent eroticism of knowing that someone loves your body, despite how alien it is both to you and the people surrounding you

the inherent eroticism of someone tracing their lips on your scars and bruises, calling them beautiful in a way you never thought possible

[uniquevocashark]

Gladiator Alcina AU

The first night you had met Alcina, properly met her rather than watching from the stands, was a cold and bitter autumn evening. She was even taller in person, though you hadn’t let your eyes roam very far when your father introduced her. Her name was a strange one, though you liked how it felt on your tongue, and she had a cold and callous air about her.

She hadn’t said anything that night, nor did you try to start up a conversation with her, though she watched you with an intensity that made you heat.

You watched her fight the next day.

Your parents were proud of how much interest you showed in their investment, and you listened to your father rattle on about the many victories she had won. They called her a true Amazon, taller than any man and submitting only to those who could best her. Becoming her editor was a favour from Mercury, from the way your father described it, though you thought she was more a gift from Venus.

They didn’t quite understand what you were getting at when you watched her though. They saw your admiration and warned you sternly off even thinking about becoming a gladiatrix yourself. That didn’t stop them from putting Alcina in your room as protection though. You never did catch the reason why, not when you had found a long and clean scar tracing down one of her biceps.

“It’s from a sword,” Alcina had told you one night, sitting beside your bed as you traced a finger over it again and again, “My second fight. There were three suppositicius before the bout ended, and the second one got me before I beat her.”

You had not stopped staring at her, nor had she stopped looking at you, “That must have been terrifying.”

“It was.” She replied, her accent affecting the words thickly. She leaned forward and you did too.

“And this one?” You asked softly, tracing a scar up her cheek with your lips.

She shivered beneath you, but her voice was strong, “That was done by a lion. It collapsed on me after I killed it.”

She leaned into you and closed her eyes, letting you kiss her eyelid. The bedframe creaked under her clenched hand and her other hand came to hold your neck.

“Tell me to stop if you aren’t comfortable.” You murmured and fell on top of her.

Her eyes lidded, her perfect pink lips parting softly, pliant underneath you, “I will.” she swore and said no more.

[alphascnsual]

There it was. Submission. Pure, unfettered and unflinching submission from Jonah. No part of his newfound lover resisted him- not his hole, his eyes, his lips, his tongue, his body, his moans; all of it surrendered completely to him in an act of total trust and devotion. They fucked like this was their tenth date, not their first; they fucked like they' knew each other 'd known each other for months, not hours. There was a profound understanding between the two of them in these carnal moments as Hudson railed into Jonah as though he wanted the other to split down the middle. This was a claim; a deal having been struck between them and their first time a physical signature at the bottom of a lustful contract.

Some could call their connection pure insanity; especially Jonah's implicit trust in him, but Hudson wouldn't betray that and the look in the other's eyes told him that he felt that. They had started something equal parts safe and seductive for one another. "I never wanna stop fucking you," he moaned, hips slowing only enough so the other could focus on his words as well, "God, look at that beautiful face ... I love the way you look when I'm fucking you- you're so turned on you can't even hide it," he smirked, "I can't wait to make you cum over and over again ..." he lowered Jonah's leg so he could lean back down and replace his thumb in the other's mouth with his tongue, kissing him languidly, changing the pace of his thrusts up from fast and hard to slower and deeper. He found Jonah's hands, interlacing their fingers and pinning them down on either side of his head as they - well, there was no other term for it; made love. It wasn't what the average, straight-laced person would deem as 'making love', but the emotion in their actions was undeniably the same.

Hudson would only realize this later but this was the first time his mind had found itself ... at peace. There was a quietness to it that almost never happened in his waking hours. The other's analytical and survival skills were always running at their fullest, as was typical for one scarred and untrusting of the world around him. But Jonah had brought to him an inexplicable and truly natural sense of sanctuary. Hudson wasn't worried about anything outside this bedroom, he wasn't worried about what the other was thinking, or what this would mean for them afterwards, he wasn't concerned about what the other would think of him or his home, nor had he any thoughts about letting a stranger into his house; it might sound crude and ridiculous but all Hudson could think about right now was fucking Jonah.

They continued for a long while, enjoying the eroticism and pleasure each passing moment provided them in more ways that either was probably capable of fully processing. Then, Hudson murmured, "Let's see how flexible of a faggy little fuck doll you really are ..." he smirked as he lifted himself up again, looking down at the other, slowly and teasingly pulling out of him, licking his lips as he studied every micro-emotion on the other's face. He then repositioned himself, laying down beside the other on the bed, finding a comfortable position on his back, "Do the splits on it," he instructed- or rather, commanded, the other, reaching down to use one of his large palms to hoist his thick cock upwards, stroking himself slowly, "And, I wanna see what it looks like from behind- I wanna see that perfect, juicy ass of yours take every inch of me," he continued. It was sinful how smoothly he spoke his desires for the other, his eyes nor his voice ever wavering, "Do a good job and I'll rail that slutty little fuckhole of yours until you see stars," he smirked. Confidence and surety dripped from every last word like it had all evening but Jonah would know well by now, that his words were never empty, "Get on, baby. Show me what you can do."

The way their connection felt so sudden yet undeniable, like two pieces of a puzzle clicking perfectly together when neither had even fully been aware that they were missing just what the other provided... It was a hitherto entirely unfamiliar sensation not just for Hudson, but Jonah as well. His past much less traumatic, his demeanor far from as cold and distanced as the jock's, one may have assumed it was an easy task for the cheerleader to make connections with others and find what he was craving in a man, a partner, a soulmate. But until this very day, until the way Hudson properly waltzed into his life, no one had managed to make the bubbly blonde open up further, lay bare his vulnerable self that was so well hidden behind smiles and jokes and the unwavering desire to please and be liked by everybody.

It was an odd dichotomy how easy it could've been to find a guy who was all too willing to take control of Jonah, and yet how impossible it seemed to cross paths with the one that he felt comfortable around truly doing so. The blonde's reputation didn't seem to indicate he was particularly picky, and many a macho jock had bent him over in the past. But too often had Jonah been played with and used like a toy without feeling treasured. He wasn't even aware of the walls he'd built as a result, trusting none of his lovers the way he trust Luca, and eventually even Daniel. The walls that had made him so reluctant and skeptical to give Hudson the slightest chance. But the miraculous, inexplicable connection that the other felt had also taken him by surprise, unlocked and broken down the walls he'd built - and now here he was, inviting his alpha in to claim him. A flower blossoming to receive a bee, indeed. Two puzzle pieces, perfectly interlocking and finally making him feel complete in ways he'd never known he wasn't until now. When the last of Hudson's massive inches finally pushed its way inside his tightness, Jonah knew it was just the first moment of countless they'd spend together, and yet one he wanted to never end.

He couldn't even begin to describe the feelings that rushed through his system when Hudson's words reached his ears. Being called perfect by someone he could tell wasn't the type for empty flattery had Jonah beyond flustered, blushing with arousal and unable to hide a little smirk of pride. Hudson was the epitome of masculinity, an alpha, his man, and being perfect for the other was everything Jonah wanted in this moment. And to have the other call out his pussy in particular filled the cheerleader with a confidence and a hunger that made him pull the other even closer, his walls clenching greedily around the thick length of Hudson's gigantic cock. "I was", he purred with conviction. Jonah didn't know a lot, maybe, but he had not the slightest doubt in this moment that he was indeed made to be fucked by Hudson whenever and wherever the other pleased.

In this very moment, as his lover placed Jonah's leg on his shoulder and thrusted his massive member even deeper into the blonde's hot tightness, he couldn't help but think just how lucky he was. He felt so irrevokably devoted to the other that satisfying Hudson's needs, giving pleasure to the jock, was the sole need in Jonah's mind right now, felt like his purpose in life even - but even though he wasn't necessarily actively concerned with his own arousal right now, it was beyond anything he'd experienced and anything but subtle in Jonah's expression. Lust and delirious stimulation was making his eyes hazy, whimpers and moans coming over the pink lips with every thrust, turning into a slightly breathless groan as Hudson's hand found his throat and Jonah's eyes rolled back in pleasure. He was quite literally a fuckdoll in heat right now, lips parted as needy growls escaped him, only fully closing again once his lover's thumb pushed into his mouth, being greeted by the blonde's eager tongue as he devotedly sucked and licked at the digit and worshipped it as it deserved, as any part of Hudson was to be worshipped, just like the monstrous cock being eagerly received and gripped by the tight heat of Jonah's hole.

[ao3feed-zukka]

the fourth ring

Read now on Ao3 at https://ift.tt/MifzS34 by sulkybender Sokka comes to the fights because he’s angry. He gives the watchword at the door and the walls fall away, coming back together seamlessly behind him; and the world inside the walls smells like sweat and chalk and blood, a tang in the darkness. It’s elegant, the way he fights, the boy with the scar. — Or: there is no fight club in Ba Sing Se Words: 4470, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Katara (Avatar) Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), alt canon, secret fighting rings, pugilists to lovers, Kisses, Smut, angry boys being angry together, the inherent eroticism of knocking each other out, Ba Sing Se Read it on Ao3 at https://ift.tt/MifzS34

[reining-disaster]

Rein felt his body trembled in a way it had not, before, gasping as he realized they had left him breathless when they pulled out of kiss. A trail of their saliva still connecting them. His cheeks were flushed, almost hiding that scar on his face as he looked them over. He ran his hands along their torso, leaning forward to begin to place small kisses along their neck. He was ever so gentle with each graze of his lips on the sensitive flesh, lingering each one longer and longer.

Rein hummed as he began to gain a little confidence in his actions. This was Evoka. And they wanted him. So... He let out a hot breath against them, trailing his hand up their body, "I can be a good boy. I want you to feel good, too. Not just me. You can be spoiled. Touched." He placed a thumb on their nipple, "I want to be good, too." Despite his words, his tone dripped with lust. Part of the eroticism for Rein would be to make Evoka feel good.

Rein smiled a little as he lifted the other by the thighs, only to lay them down nearby. He was taking charge, but not forever. He pressed his lips to theirs, once, before beginning to trail kissed down their body, stopping at the sensitive nipple, again and flicked his tongue across it curiously. It was clear he'd never done this, but he knew that it was a sensitive area, his eyes looked to Evoka's face. Those sweet eyes. He wanted to gauge their reaction before he continued. He was like a dog, waiting for approval. No motive beyond Evoka's pleasure. His was second on his mind.

@necromanticdancer

Closed with @necromanticdancer

Evoka takes a long draw from a wooden carved pipe, dark wisps of smoke exhaled through their nostrils. Not the first time the druid had been propositioned on their journey. Staring at the man for a moment as if contemplating something. He is fairly handsome and seemingly kind thus far. On the stronger side as well, which they like.

Pipe kept in one hand as Evoka sat on Rein's lap. Practically saddling his thighs. Grinding against him in a deliberate manner with a salacious hum.

Blood red eyes half lidded and focused on the barbarian's face as they take another hit of their pipe. Breathing the smoke into the other half-elf's face with a dangerous smirk, "Don't mistake me for the type of drow that breaks my lovers. l'd rather an active participant than a plaything, darling. I'm not going to roleplay slavery or be the lolth-sworn of your possible fantasies. As common as it is, I am no one's tool and am more than my heritage. It must be me you desire."

Free hand running fingers through his blond hair, trying to set it loose. Directing the larger adventurer to lean down. Expounding further on the sensitive topic, "If you call me any sort of drow related slur during an act of intimacy., I will slit your throat and feed your body to the wolves." Chuckling lightly in spite of the threat. Getting it all out of the way. Hoping that Rein Won't be a concern when it comes to those matters but opting on the side of caution, given previous experiences.

With those important boundaries established Evoka presses their mouths together in a tentative kiss. Tasting of burnt herbs and sweet berries. Pressed flush against Rein's chest. Whispering against his lips, That's all. Everything else goes, within reason. Be gentle, be rough. I'm yours for the evening."

Kissing him again with renewed vigor and confidence. Silently urging him to kiss back and touch them in return.

Rein melted at every touch, every sultry word. His breath was heavy, his eyes were half lidded, he traced his hands along their body. The grinding was absolutely driving him wild, head spinning. He wasn't even sure where his own comment came from. It was like a voice from within snuck out of him. Nevertheless, he wanted it. He wanted this. He wanted them.

"Please... I-... You... I want you..." He shivered, feeling his hands behind to tremble. And it was clear that he was not confident in this subject, "I-I don't even know any drow slurs." He admitted, going wherever hands where directing him. His heart raced, but his mind raced even more. Was this too soon? Maybe. Did he want this? Absolutely.

He pressed into the kiss when it was initiated, opening his mouth to allow them full access. He was fully submissive in the moment. Not because they were a drow. No. Because they were them. A voice of reason. Confidence. Assurance. He liked those attributes. And it didn't hurt that they were nice to look at, that was for sure.

Rein gently and shakily ran his hands up their thighs, practically begging to be given instruction. It was as if he had forgotten how to use his body. He felt like a spell had been cast on him and he adored it. He pushed his tongue into the kiss and ground his hips up. He didn't have a dick, but that didn't stop him from meeting their hips together. He wanted more. Craved more. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he didn't complain. Maybe he would be embarrassed, later, but not now.

[no-other-words]

on the study of eroticism

Synopsis: Xie Lian discovers that there are some parts of his body that invites certain sensations and he can’t quite figure out what to do with it. His husband helps. Rated M | 2500w | post-canon, domestic fluff, a little spicy [ Read on AO3 ]

A sudden heat comes from nowhere, slowly bubbling from the bottom of his stomach. The spot where Hua Cheng kissed is sending tingles down his spine. It’s…a weird feeling.

Then a mischievous tongue swipes at the same spot and—his body jerks.

“Ah—!”

Xie Lian quickly covers his mouth. Was that…him? Did that keen, airy sound, full of want and something else come out of his lips? He’s never heard himself like this before. So foreign to his own ears. So strange.

“I didn’t know Your Highness has so many…receptive spots.”

---

The first time it happens, Xie Lian is utterly mortified.

They’re lazing away the afternoon, sitting on a hill near Puqi Shrine. Xie Lian’s snug against Hua Cheng and entirely engrossed in a book he found in an old book store.

Hua Cheng is quiet the entire time. Xie Lian learns that he’s okay being the silent accompaniment as long as he gets to watch Xie Lian to his heart’s content. It’s also out of respect, ‘this one doesn’t wish to break gege’s concentration when he’s reading.’

The summer breeze brings a refreshing chill to the otherwise humid weather. Xie Lian swipes his hair to the side, getting some air to his neck. He should look into lighter clothing, now that the—

Xie Lian’s thoughts cut off.

He feels Hua Cheng’s lips against the back of his neck. Warm breaths tickle his skin that make goosebumps rise deliciously down his arms. Xie Lian’s about to make an off-hand comment when those same lips open and place a daring kiss.

A sudden heat comes from nowhere, slowly bubbling from the bottom of his stomach. The spot where Hua Cheng kissed is sending tingles down his spine. It’s…a weird feeling.

Then a mischievous tongue swipes at the same spot and—his body jerks.

“Ah—!”

Xie Lian quickly covers his mouth. Was that…him? Did that keen, airy sound, full of want and something else come out of his lips? He’s never heard himself like this before. So foreign to his own ears. So strange.

So…lewd.

Hua Cheng does it again and this time Xie Lian grabs the legs on either side of him in a panic. His shoulders shrink inwards, a weak attempt to both escape and invite for more (more more). Xie Lian’s whole body buzzes with this sudden onslaught of pleasure and he’s not sure how to process it.

Something pulls his legs together and he realizes it’s himself. Squeezing tightly to hide the embarrassment.

He’s hard. Full on aroused by just a kiss on his neck.

What is this?!

Xie Lian peers back to see Hua Cheng, his gaze loving as always in his carefree and youthful appearance.

“Yes gege?” His husband asks as if he has no idea just how much Xie Lian is affected by him. “Did I do something wrong?”

A voice tells Xie Lian that Hua Cheng knows exactly what, but the unassuming smile on Hua Cheng’s face pushes any suspicion away.

“N-no. It’s nothing.”

The rest of their afternoon go undisturbed. Hua Cheng doesn’t make any more advances and lets Xie Lian to his reading. At least he tries to.

The intensity from Hua Cheng’s stare weighs heavy on his back.

---

It festers in his mind for the next passing days.

What had happened seems so trivial yet profoundly curious. Xie Lian has experienced pleasures before (oh has he, with Hua Cheng’s relentlessness and skill in bed). But never has he imagined that a single touch to that specific spot can incite such a reaction.

From his voice. The sharp pitch, with just a touch of breathlessness, almost choking from the sudden amount of pure want. He doesn’t think himself capable of producing such a sound. Ought to be dying from embarrassment.

Not even the heat from the kitchen fire can match the fever running through his head. He should concentrate on the task at hand. Concentrate!

He’s making radish soup tonight, specifically requested by his husband. Despite having an army of servants at their disposal, Xie Lian prefers to do the cooking. Especially for dinner. It reminds him of slow days at Puqi Shrine, when Hua Cheng was San Lang who made sure to keep his distance and didn’t dare to step over the line. And now?

Now he sneaks to Xie Lian’s side with every chance he gets, pretending to move with innocent intent when they both know Hua Cheng is itching to cop a feel. Xie Lian lets him. There is comfort in close proximity.

Xie Lian pauses at cutting the radishes and touches the back of his neck.

Huh. Nothing.

Curious indeed.

“And then?” Hua Cheng breaks him out of his reverie.

“Hmm?”

“Gege was telling me how those idiots got into a brawl again.”

Xie Lian straightens himself up and says, “ah yes. It was the usual misunderstanding between them. Mu Qing said something about Jian Lan and Feng Xin took it the wrong way. You know how he can be.”

“Foolishly so.”

Xie Lian sends him a not-so-stern look that Hua Cheng shrugs at. Is he wrong? He supposes not. Hua Cheng is rarely wrong in many things. He boasts when time calls for it, rightfully so. It’s one of his traits that Xie Lian finds so charming.

Xie Lian finishes up chopping up the green onions before dumping them into the pot. The aroma smells right this time. No sourness hidden in the air. Last time, Hua Cheng had suggested to maybe leave the vinegar out. Good call on that.

“San Lang, come have a taste.”

Hua Cheng obediently saunters over, stopping behind Xie Lian. He towers over him, both hands resting Xie Lian’s waist and the latter naturally leans back. Xie Lian scoops up a small amount of soup and blows at it.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

Bending forward, Hua Cheng joins in and blows at the steaming spoon of soup. He shifts slightly and suddenly Xie Lian feels a soft stream of air tickling his ear.

A gasp escapes his lips before he could stop. His hand jerks, spilling soup over the pot.

There it is again. That tingling. The heat, travelling from the tip of his ear to the pool of his stomach and down to the place where he’s really trying not to think of right now. That blow of air to his ear had awaken something within his body, brought back memories of feverish nights and mind-blowing pleasure.

Xie Lian quietly swallows and wills his body to settle. It’s unseemly, getting this a strong of a reaction from such a meaningless act. It’s the same as when Hua Cheng had kissed the back of his neck. His body freezes then heats up in want, in need, in desire and—and what is it? There must be something wrong.

Hua Cheng, oblivious to all the turmoil battling inside Xie Lian, continues to blow at the soup. Or whatever’s left of it. Xie Lian should scoop another batch up. That’s right. Hua Cheng needs a taste. Why is his hand shaking?

Another steady stream of cool breath caresses his ear from behind and—

“San Lang!”

His cry comes out more as a desperate whimper, indecently so. Xie Lian’s other hand grips the edge of the counter so tightly that he can see veins lining out. He presses forward, willing his arousal away.

“It’s hot right? This one’s only taking measures to cool it down a bit,” says Hua Cheng coyly. “Can’t risk our tongues burning.”

Something else is already burning in Xie Lian and it’s definitely not his tongue.

Hua Cheng takes the arm holding the spoon and brings it towards to them. He takes a quick sip of the soup, waits, then gives Xie Lian an approving smile. Eyes bright and full of delight and…playful?

“Gege makes the best soup! It warms me up all nice inside.”

Xie Lian’s eyebrows twitch.

He watches Hua Cheng proceed to set the table in an easy-going manner. He wears a small grin that Xie Lian usually overlooks as contentment but now it seems to be carrying something more. Satisfaction. Amusement. Pride.

Is Hua Cheng catching on?

---

The ghost king is up to something. By now Xie Lian is sure of it.

Hua Cheng is an affectionate being, giving gentle brushes of their hands here and a soft nuzzle there. His husband is surprisingly rather tactile and he is all for it.

But lately, there has been a lot more sneak attacks. Ones that ruffle Xie Lian’s feathers, tickle his nerves, invoke those same strange and embarrassing sounds that Xie Lian is failing miserably at preventing. Some touches result in no reaction, just a weird look from Xie Lian. Others…oh how they make him shiver with unforeseen bliss.

It is almost as if Hua Cheng is looking for treasure chests hidden all over the map that is his body and the only way to uncover them is to blindly cop a feel or blow a kiss.

Today is no exception.

They’re having a stroll down the streets of Ghost City. Its civilians are delighted to see Hua Chengzhu out in public. A rare sighting. Of course, it is no surprise that beside their lord is his esteemed companion, the one with the bamboo hat and easygoing smile.

Xie Lian stops at a stall on the side, something catching his eyes. A display of old archives all crusty and tattered and really shouldn’t be up for sale. But Xie Lian is Xie Lian and knowledge is limitless so he curiously glances over the titles.

Chronicles of the Flesh-Eating Toad

A Thousand Nights in a Thousand Brothels

Great Conquests of Black Water Sinking Ships

“Anything catching our esteemed guest fancy?” The stall-owner asks. She’s a rather old woman, wrinkles marked deep into her leathery skin. One eye atrociously scarred and her attempt at a smile offers the opposite effect of warm and welcome.

Xie Lian hums in earnest, thinking seriously before answering. They quickly enter a conversation on forgotten literature and unwritten history. Hua Cheng, naturally, is already by Xie Lian’s side, a hand on his back.

That same hand, despite behaving at first, spread itself across the lower of his back, pressing just so. Xie Lian stops in his words then hitches a startled breath when he feels Hua Cheng’s hand slither upwards. It’s agonizingly slow, with fingers kneading ever so slightly against the bumps of his spine, inducing little humming shockwaves riding throughout his entire body.

The area below his stomach throbs, warming again to the same sensation. This time, Xie Lian keeps his voice in check and lets out only a choked breath.

“Gege?”

His ear tingles.

“Something on your mind?” Hua Cheng asks, leaning close. “Do you not feel well?”

His back. He’s thinking of his lower back and how it hums and makes him twist inside. He’s thinking of a kiss planted behind his neck and a sensual blow of breath to his ear tips. He thinks of cool skin and sweat, of long nights and vivid images, of a bed adorned in red and of highs he’s never ascended to before until Hua Cheng Hua Cheng San Lang—

Xie Lian staggers a little, alarming the stall-owner. She doesn’t want to offend Hua Chengzhu’s cherished person. But it is not her at all. It is the thumb now caressing lightly over the inside of his wrist and aaah, that’s another spot so sensitive to Hua Cheng’s touch. And he recognizes that this has all been done on purpose.

A whimper escapes his throat. Oh, how red his face must be.

“Gege doesn’t look too good. You’re warming up. Perhaps we should return for the night.” His voice is filled with worry but Xie Lian now knows the little game Hua Cheng is playing. He peers over and sure enough, that corner of Hua Cheng’s lips is gleefully curved.

“I didn’t know Your Highness has so many…receptive spots.”

---

His full assault comes when Xie Lian is at his weakest.

When the martial god is entangled in sheets, splayed across the bed in a state of helplessness. He writhes at every shock sent from below where ghost meets god, cries on each impact. Hua Cheng dominates from behind him, chest to back, and he takes full control of every nerve in Xie Lian’s body.

A hot tongue laps at the back of his neck and another wave of heat shoots straight to his arousal. This time, Xie Lian learns not to hold back and he moans keenly into the pillow.  When the same tongue moves to behind his ear, his voice shifts into an obscene-sounding whine.

“San Lang…San Lang—ah!”

He feels the incoming wave of pleasure, a tense ball forming inside just waiting to burst and he can’t wait. Oh the anticipation, oh the blissful release Xie Lian’s clumsily chasing right now. That Hua Cheng’s demanding.

“Gege is especially sensitive tonight,” Hua Cheng remarks, voice low and deceivingly calm. “He seems to be more vocal than usual.”

Xie Lian grinds desperately into the bed as Hua Cheng grinds into him. He always manages to hit that sweet spot that makes Xie Lian sing.

And he does. He sings brokenly into the night when Xie Lian finally comes wrecked and sweet. His whole body quivers, intoxicated in sheer delight.

But Hua Cheng doesn’t stop there. He mercifully gives Xie Lian a short moment before resuming his thrusts. The hand that had held Xie Lian’s moves to the base of his neck and slides sensually down his spine. Hot lips press against Xie Lian’s neck and begin to suckle at the skin.

It’s all too overwhelming. Xie Lian curves his back deliciously so, prying away from Hua Cheng’s touch yet yearning for more more more.

“S-San Lang..too much…”

His plead is in vain. Hua Cheng’s other hand wraps itself around Xie Lian’s wrist and the thumb languidly rubs over the erogenous area.

“What’s that, gege? Is this spot too much? This one doesn’t think so,” Hua Cheng murmurs as he blows softly at Xie Lian’s ear again. “Who knew gege had so many hidden treasures?”

Jolts of bliss come at every direction. His lower back, his neck, his ear, his wrist. Xie Lian can feel himself hard again and he can’t—he can’t again.

“San Lang, San Lang!”

Xie Lian abruptly knocks Hua Cheng off and flip them over, pinning his husband down with his legs and hands. His chest burns from heavy breathing and he takes a moment to gain composure. Hua Cheng wears an arrogant smirk.

He wants to wipe it right off.

“I like it when gege gets a little rough.”

Xie Lian huffs. “San Lang is being a bully.”

Hua Cheng raises a doubtful eyebrow. “This one merely wants to make His Highness feel good.”

Not fair, not fair at all. Hua Cheng lies there all comfortably, basking gloriously in the fact that he’s made Xie Lian this euphoric and happy. Knowing he’s made him feel so loved and adored and deserving.

Leaning down, Xie Lian presses a long kiss to Hua Cheng’s lips before moving down his jawline. Soft, lingering pecks trail along his husband’s neck. He stops at the Adam’s apple and gives a lick before continue. Hua Cheng takes one deep breathe—good, he’s relaxed.

Xie Lian arrives at his collarbone, gives a good stare, then gently bites on the edge.

Hua Cheng jolts beneath him, his abdominal clenching on instinct. Xie Lian hears a choked grunt, cut midway as if it was stopped desperately. He looks up to see Hua Cheng scrunching his eyebrows in slight confusion. Arousal swims in his eyes.

Xie Lian grins.

“Found yours.”

---

a/n: erogenous zones fascinate me.

[buildingrelationshipsinanarchy]

A New Intimacy Model

So what spurred this project is a culmination of a few things. Namely, frustration with the imprecise and incomprehensible words, Platonic, Romantic, and Sexual. The English language hasn’t been great at adapting the words for personal relationships as our times and values change.

I fell into Anarchism only very recently, stumbling into the language of ‘relationship anarchy’ through the internet in discussion with forms of polyamory years ago when I started this blog. Over the last year, I’ve been getting into radical politics and finding how my un-politicized opinions were validated, and then stretched the more I learned and studied up. While I’m still learning more about Radical politics, Anarchism, Marxism, Queer and Feminist theory specifically, the more I wanted to link some of my perspectives on intimate relationships with these political and theoretical texts.

“The Personal is Political.” - Carol Hanisch, Feminist Author.

@mythr1der​ wrote a post detailing a bit of the frustration I also share in regards to how the Dichotomy between Platonic and Sexual (which almost all definitions of Romance boil back into), leave much to be desired when discussing attraction, desire, intimacy and relationships in general. I believe that this very simple dichotomy reflects, oddly enough, capitalism and the history of the role of state power in culture. I rant a little bit about it as a response to @mythr1der​‘s post here. 

It��s long, and incomplete, but I proposed an idea of just building entirely new words, so we can build an entirely new map for talking about love, desire, attraction, and relationships that actually discuss what its like to be next to someone you like to be next to! 

What is intimacy? It’s closeness right? To be near some ‘intimate’ part of another person, or them near something meaningful about why you’re you. I wanted to start this series by talking about what it means to be close to someone. If you remember my birthday without Facebook, that might make me feel a bit special. But if you remember how badly I was abused by an old friend, its because I trusted you enough to share some of the sadness that I’m not as loud about.

Intimacy isn’t always trauma, sometimes its tears of joy hearing that your cousin is out of prison, or the laughter of your friends. Being close to each other in a hyper-digitized age is a bit tricky, but phone calls, facetime, snapchat are only some of the tools we use to keep each other updating on what we’re feeling. Whether its about our love life, sex life, work life, or home life, just sharing that information can be real special, and bonding.

When we say that we have friends or that we are [Queer] Platonic Partners, does that mean we’ve decided how often we’re gonna talk or what we’re gonna talk about? What if we just send each other memes or rant about politics? Am I supposed to devalue those interactions because they aren’t the person I’m crying on the phone with?

Intimacy can be as deep as childhood scars and as simple as surprising me with my favorite snack. It all just means you know who I am, what I like, and what I care about. I want to intentionally forge those connections. And this why I set these definitions first. 

Other Words:

A Daekkon (n.) would be person/partner whom you’ve developed intentionally this kind of relationship with. 

If you desired this kind of relationship with a certain person, you’d be feeling Daekeen (adj.) for/about that person.

People who are desiring or actively doing these activities together are Daekkoning (v.). 

This would be understood as Daekkonic (adj.) behavior; as in, “My roomate isn’t super talkative with me, but is deakkonic (adj.) with Sandra from the Mosque.” 

“Tom is going through it, he’s felt deakkonically (adv.) deprived since the move.”

________________________________________________________________

In our sex-negative, ironically repressed culture, we seem to think that if you’re touching your bodies together at all, it means *something*.  I want to remove that idea. I want to reclaim physical affection. I want to be touch and be touched by others. I don’t want my afab friends who have experienced some sort of sexual violence in their lives, to ever feel weary about the fact that I’m physically affectionate. It’s been my #1 Love Language for the last 10 years. 

Fighting r*pe culture is a full-time fight, but I think adding a word, and therefore an idea[l], can be useful in reclaiming safety, and boundaries regarding bodily autonomy, for all of us. Clear communication and respected boundaries and asking consent for everything are the bedrock we need to continually practice. And as trust builds, I believe this could be very useful theoretically tool for improving the quality of our relationships and help create clearer discussion about our individual boundaries, needs, and desires. I feel like this leads me to a relevant question. What activities are inherently platonic, romantic or sexual? Is holding hands inherently romantic when almost all of us have done it with a friend? What about those of us who are religious or spiritual and have held hands with members of church, mosque or synagogue; do you think we’re out here non-stop blushing at the Pastor? Or when we held hands with family members? Doesn’t sound like it holds up, huh? 

What about snuggling a roommate? Holding a teammate while celebrating a victory? The kiss my bestfriend gave me on our shared birthday dinner? Are we left to through our Aro and Ace friends’ out of the discussion, just because our culture has bad takes on sex and romance as the only forms possible of significant physical touch? Physical touch is such an important way to communicate love and affection, as well as care, concern, and comfort. They don’t get to cast their shadow on this space anymore!

Other Words:

If you had this desire for someone, or wanted to approach cultivating these forms of affection in a relationship, you could say you’re feeling Phaddish (adj.) for that person.

.Participating or initiating acts of a non-sexual physical intimacy Phadronic (adj.) quality are said to be phade-ing/phading (v.).

A Phadrone (n.) could be the name of a person/partner you share this kind of relationship with. 

Phadroning (v.) would the act of cultivating this kind of intimacy with another person. 

Phadronically (adv.) could describe a certain level of intimacy implicit in a physical touch between to particular people.

________________________________________________________________

Now lets talk about Sex. That’s the thing the everyone’s mind always gravitates to when discuss words like, intimacy, attraction, desire. It’s the thing we want to stay away from when you use the Platonic or Friendly. But, lets be real. Haven’t many of us had sex with people didn’t even consider friends? Or people who became our “Strictly Platonic” friends after we may have had sex, once or several times, with them?

People who gravitate toward polyamory or non-monogamy tend have had a “hoe-phase.” The boundary between friend and lover, or partner and fuckbuddy have been blurred in a good chunk of people’s lives. Non-monogamous or not, I think it’s useful to talk directly about our sexual experiences, desires, fantasies, and how different it can be with different people, or in different stages of our lives. But what makes an experience sexual? Maybe that sounds redundant or obvious; I mean, it’s got the word SEX in it, maybe that’s got something to do with it? But maybe not... 

Lets ask an odd question. Is sex inherently sexual? Who wouldn’t assume the answer is automatically yes? Well, my first thought is to talk to those in the Adult Entertainment industry or friends of ours who are sex-workers, in whatever capacity. Is every client sexy or shoot erotic? Those of us who have sex, have we never been doing it and been bored through most of at least one experience? 

If sex is inherently sexual, why do we have so many Sexual Health Educators, Marriage Counselors, Pornstars, Yoga Teachers, Personal trainers and Writers telling us how to have sexy sex? Dating Coaches and Websites, telling us how we are getting something that’s supposed to sound so easy wrong.

I’ve come to the opinion that sex isn’t about body parts, genitalia, certain body motions, or even clothing [or lack thereof]. I believe that sex, or eroticism, is all about the context and the people involved. There’s nothing inherently sexy about fruit, or food in general, but if woman eats a banana in public, there are at least several men in area thinking of something than her healthy food choices. 

This is why talking about sex directly is good. And understanding it as an energy that you imbue to any activity or circumstance, could help have better sex; and and on the flip-side, show us how we may need to more aware of how we may take up space with our body language. I do also feel, that in part, some of our Ace friends (those who aren’t sex repulsed), may be able to find some resonance with this model; sex doesn’t have to feel passionate or any particular way at all (other than good?), because sex isn’t about sexiness, but about human connection and pleasure.

Other Words:

Serotic (adj.) activities include any activity that is engaged due to, or is infused with, sexual desire and/or erotic intention. It also describes the type of desire you’re feeling for another person. 

A Serato (n.) is any person you engage in serotic activities or feelings with. 

An activity that was originally un-serotic (adj.), but became sexually or erotically charged, we could described as having become Serotically (adv.) charged. 

When you are cultivating or charging an act with serotic energy, you are Seroticizing (v.) that activity

________________________________________________________________

Lately, especially since diving into Radical Politics, I find less and less desire in defining Who I Am as a part of a relationship unit. It’s an overlay from monogamy, The Couple being the only social unit that is recognized, as it’s necessary to the Nuclear Family; a super important thing for Capitalism to sustain itself. The relationships I cultivate with others, with whatever forms of intimacy or interactions therein, cant be understood by that model. I am more than my interactions with a handful of people; I am a human person, and my engagement with the world isn’t actually reducible to whether or not I’m having sex with someone or not. 

We’ve talked about multiple forms of intimacy, and some of the desires or interests associated with them. Have you noticed that in the desire, or need, to discuss relationships on a basis of, ‘sex: yes or no?’, that we haven’t talked about the webs that form because we are all reliant on each other to survive? Not everyone in your community or workplace or online spaces, you’ll get to know or talk to. Do they, as people, matter less because they aren’t in your contacts list or your DM’s?  

This is a space where not a lot of us to tend think or engage as much. An easy word to discuss this space is community. But is a community the people or the place you spend your time, whether online or off? Is the community the place you live and your neighbors? Is it the people who may share some of your identifiers or face similar forms of oppression, despite living in a different city, state, country?

We are multi-dimensional beings, and with the use of technology, there are so many ways to form relationships, and share resources. I think the ‘community’ is any space you find yourself in, which means that mutual aid is something you are always able to engage in. Whether it’s feeding the homeless guys who hang out by the intersection, or dropping a few bucks in a trans kid’s venmo, mutual aid is so much easier.

But what if that feels so inconsequential? It’s not! But it does, from time to time, feel like the problems of the world are so big, and that you and so many you know are suffering in ways you wish you could help. Well, community organizing is always happening somewhere, online and off. It becomes important to join up with others in order feel like we can actually make a positive impact on the lives of others. We don’t have to wait on a government who’s interest isn’t ours, don’t have to wait for some politician to fail on a promise to Make Things Better.

We have each other, and we are all we really have. At the end of the day, all of our concepts are man-made. COVID-19 showed us how drastically things could be different if the people in power made decisions that actually benefited us. A lot of us understand the need to do something. Capitalism says that competition is what drove human kind into evolution, the fight for survival in a meaningless, terrifying world. Anarchism, as I’m learning, throws the whole idea in the trash where it belongs.

Peter Kropotkin, whose been called both the Godfather and Santa Claus of Anarchism, penned in Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution (1902), “under any circumstances sociability is the greatest advantage in the struggle for life.”

We are better off together. Capitalism and the property relationships in our compulsively monogamous society try to tell us other wise. We don’t have to follow that model.

Other Words:

To Mudshop (v.) is to build a mudship with a particular person, organinzation, or community; Mud-shopping (v.). 

A Mudshipper (n.) is an individual in a mudship of any scale. 

I’ve said a lot. I hope this reads as accessible to as many people as it can be. I built this because I want to tell the people in my life why I love them as dearly as I do. And that I’d love to build relationships with as many awesome, lovely people as I can.

If you try to use the words Romantic and Platonic while you look at this post, and find it almost impossible, I’ve done my job.

I hope those words die along with oppressive ideas they uphold.