Tutti

Victor Nikiforov in five different styles! ✌️

Commissioned by Jen over email. Thank you so much for the beautiful prompt. I always wanted to drew them like this. It turned out bit dreamy.

Sub drop is basically getting the endrophin high from sex and then crashing hard from it. You just had an amazing, intense experience, so why do you want to cry??? Why do you feel weird and empty and alone? Even if you don’t get the outright crash, when the horniness fades, it catches up to you just how vulnerable you’ve been, and it’s natural and common to feel a little lost and alone after that. Contrary to what the term implies, you don’t need to be the submissive party to experience this. Note how much vanilla sex culture ridicules this (”crying after sex” jokes, etc.).

Aftercare is the antidote to sub drop, it’s the post-sex affirmation that things are good and you are safe and appreciated. Common forms include cuddling, ice cream, taking a warm shower together, wrapping yourself in your fuzziest softest bathrobe available and general relaxation together. Comfort and reassurance. Note how much vanilla sex culture condemns people as “needy” for wanting this kind of treatment, or for being upset that their partner just walks out on them after sex. (The people being condemned as “needy” are usually women, but I don’t even want to think about how much men certainly need this comfort too but feel like they can’t ask for it without being seen as un-masculine.)

When this happens, there is usually a complete absence of checking in to cover basics like: was it good? what did you like / dislike about it? did anything I did make you uncomfortable? how was I at respecting your boundaries?

Consent often isn’t a simple yes/no thing. It’s common for people to come out of sex with some mild weird feelings about something. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the situation was fully non-consensual, but there can be some gray area at times. Maybe someone was too pushy about something, or maybe they misread or ignored a signal that you weren’t into a certain thing. Human communication is imperfect.

You need to have these conversations in order not to hurt people.

conversations in order

not to hurt people.

Wanderer wandering.

–

Was our legacy to only hold hands in secret and kiss in the dark?

A cruel string of fate that intertwined our destinies in the loneliest of ways. To never be allowed to say, "You're mine."

Dark hair, swoop bangs, nose ring and the widest birth a smile could allow, I was going to fall in love with you. We kept saying it was the last time each moment our lips touched. We couldn't.

We couldn't keep apart but we couldn't be together. We were the Romeo and juliet lines I pinned to the back of that frame I gave you.

The same sex could only dance in the snow under the lamplight of a parking lot at 3am in the morning. They couldn't in halls filled with music and people.

It was 2008 and no one could know.

It was 2008 and your parents would kick us out.

It was 2008 and we were illegal.

It was 2008 and I couldn't choose.

Sin strangled me. The ominous word that meant to love you was to deny a god I was supposed to cherish. That your delicate skin was only left to be an ache on my fingertips. Frozen in place at hairs width from touch.

My greatest lie was to tell you over and over again that I didn't love you "like that". Like that person who thinks of your face recieving flowers. That person who only wants to to see your happiness.

That person who asked you to be the maid of honor at her wedding.

That person who when you finally confessed,rejected you.

That person who had no idea their sexuality included being in love with multiple people.

But you were the first.

But now your fickleness and scatter brained and chattiness and charity and body belong to someone you can call a Mr. To your Mrs. And not just a mistress.

And I'm 18 months sober from a world that held you at the center of it, realizing why the warmth was gone.

I love them. But I love you,

Too.

I have always loved you, too.

And I'll live my entire life with these three words I could never say aloud beating along with my heart as my greatest regret.

So, for all of tumblr to see.

For someone to finally see.

I love you. I've always loved you. In that over the moon, burn this city down just to show you the light way.

I

Love

You.