The “romantasy” genre—a blend of high fantasy, steamy romance, and explicit content—has exploded in popularity, dominating BookTok feeds and bookstore displays. Titles like A Court of Thorns and Roses, Fourth Wing, and From Blood and Ash lead the charge, with new entries appearing daily. This isn’t just a trend; it’s a cultural shift, mirroring the dominance of paranormal romance a decade ago, but with unprecedented mainstream acceptance.
For the first time, a romance-focused genre with explicit sexual content is reaching a massive audience, primarily female. This has sparked both curiosity and backlash as people wonder about its real-world impact on sex lives.
Experts suggest the benefits are substantial. Sex and relationships therapist Dr. Karen Stewart notes that many clients openly discuss their “almost addictive” engagement with romantasy. These books allow readers to indulge in fantasies without limits, exploring ideal partners, desired treatment, and fantastical scenarios impossible in reality. The surge of dopamine and serotonin from the explicit content can range from simple arousal to vivid masturbation material—and some even use the stories as inspiration during sex with their partners.
This craving isn’t new: women have long enjoyed romance and erotica. What is different is the openness. Women are now more readily embracing explicit content, and reaping the rewards.
Couples and sex therapist Gabby Jimmerson highlights a renewed sense of sexual empowerment among women. The genre’s tropes—chosen-one heroines, tortured dark mates, forced proximity—can help readers reconnect with their desires. Romantasy encourages women to freely explore, enjoy, and ask for sex, even if they’ve felt disconnected from their sexuality before. Sex therapist Tammy Nelson adds that it can reignite desire in those who’ve lost touch with it.
The genre also provides a safe space for exploration. Readers can indulge in fantasies without shame or guilt, pausing whenever they choose. As Sarah Sumner, a sex and relationship therapist, explains, the element of danger—like imagining intimacy with a werewolf—can be thrilling without actual risk. These feelings can be recreated consensually in real life, providing insights to bring back to relationships.
However, there’s a downside. Nelson warns of the “crash” back to reality when the book closes. Readers might begin comparing partners to fictional ideals, especially if they don’t communicate their desires.
Unrealistic expectations are another issue. Tropes like instant mind-reading or perfect sexual compatibility don’t translate to real life. Jimmerson points out that real intimacy requires context, communication, and accepting imperfect bodies.
Romantasy authors bypass the awkward, unsexy parts of real intimacy—the time it takes for arousal, the effort of communication. Sumner warns that this can create unrealistic expectations around pleasure and foreplay, even reinforcing harmful stereotypes. “Shoulds” are never sexy, she emphasizes.
Ultimately, romantasy can be empowering, entertaining, and inspiring—not instructional. Jimmerson concludes that it’s a great starting point for self-discovery, but fiction remains distinct from reality. Real intimacy requires communication, effort, and honesty; even the most dedicated partners don’t have mind-reading abilities.
