A shirtless and sweaty gym selfie in front of a dirty mirror. A string bikini pic and an extremely arched back. Squats and a very, very low camera angle. Anything Megan Thee Stallion posts. You get the picture (literally). We all know a thirst trap when we see one. You may have taken one. I most definitely have. There was a peak era of Instagram and Snapchat (I would guess around 2018) when it felt like everyone knew how to be hot. Or at the very least the hottest version of themselves. Taking the lead from celebrities and reality stars, everyday people began to take the starring role in sexy content on social media and leverage their sex appeal to gain attention (Likes. Followers. Infamy. Phone numbers…) It was a uniquely horny time. In the years since, thirst traps have the ability to sell movie tickets, boost political campaigns, “break the internet” and help sex workers earn millions from their bedrooms. Thirst traps have also broken up relationships, gotten people fired from corporate jobs and enticed unwanted attention. Since 2018, I’ve never underestimated the commanding power of a large dick print in grey sweatpants.
That was then, though. A simpler time. Aside from the odd twerk video from my favourites, my personal social media feeds are now dry. My algorithm has prioritised wholesome videos from Booktok, Nara Smith and all the other domesticated homegirls. Last year, Unbothered examined how much we openly thirst after other people but I’ve always been interested in how much we want people to thirst after us. What happened to thirst traps? Are they dead, have they moved to a new home or have we simply evolved?
“100% I think thirst traps are dead,” says Hazi Adamu, 23, a social media creative and strategist from London. “Now, if you see thirst traps on Instagram or TikTok, they’re always those cringy guys either cooking or something with their friends topless, and it’s just cringe. It’s horrible!”
Adamu helps celebrities ensure their content appeals to the right audience. This means rationing hot talented people to just “one thirst trap a week” so as not to look too desperate for attention. “There’s still [an element] of thirst in regular content but now it’s just less staged. It’s more authentic; People in the comments will be like, ‘Oh my God, that’s the sexiest video ever!’ and it’s just a video of someone putting on lip gloss, or adjusting their trousers.”
“These videos are off the cuff, they’re not looking at the camera,” she adds. “They’re not really doing anything. And I feel like people find that a bit more sexy.”
“There’s still [an element] of thirst in regular content but now it’s just less staged.”
Hazi adamu, social media creative
I would generally agree that unassuming sex appeal is very sexy. I will always find a mysterious, handsome stranger reading a book on a train a turn-on. Where overtly sexy and staged thirst traps scream “Fancy me!”, instead candid photos where a person looks attractive but doesn’t seem to care offer an understated form of sexy that feels more authentic (even if it isn’t). And it’s been refreshing to see less hyper-sexualised content steered towards the cis male gaze and centred more on who we are as people. Buzzfeed described this shift away from thirst traps as “intimacy trapping”. “We know Gen Z isn’t sex-negative but rather focused on intimacy, so it makes sense that their thirst traps are, too,” wrote Steffi Cao in 2023. “The focus is truly about the vibes now, the idea of a possible shared experience or relationship (even if just for one night), rather than just you being hot.”
Cao referred to the idea that young women and girls are now rejecting the pro-sex movements of the 2010s (slut pride, porn, hookup culture, etc) in favour of more conservative ideals. I’d argue that the wide accessibility of raunchy and salacious content simply became boring. Adamu agrees with this theory. “Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian were just professional socialites, and now because of Gen Z creators, they have to do something more. Kim Kardashian’s now a lawyer. Paris Hilton campaigns against troubled teen camps. Even Megan Thee Stallion — she’s still the hot girl, but she’s a hot girl and also an activist for mental health.”
From the sounds of it, thirst traps have been filed away under millennial cringe along with peace signs and showing your ankles. However, I do miss some aspects of unabashed thirst posting.
I enjoy thirst traps because they aren’t inherently good or bad. They are what they appear to be: photos and videos to illicit desire. Nothing more. Nothing less. There’s something really human about wanting people to think that you’re attractive. But better still, there’s something really fun about thinking this about yourself. As Tolly T, one-half of The Receipts Podcast, tweeted back in 2018: “I enjoy thirst traps so much. It comes in so many variables. The “obvious in your face” trap. The “Oh me” trap. The “only the intended audience will get this” trap. Honestly ladies, be the thirst trap you want to see in the world.” These are words to live by.
My last obvious thirst trap was in 2021. I was feeling myself. I wanted the world (and him…) to notice that while I was a very serious intellectual person, I was hot. It was taken after a run. I was wearing a two-piece lycra set to show my abs. I remember contorting my body to show the smooth curve of my hips. In the caption, I shared something about my “self-confidence” and “accomplishments”. But, looking back, that photo had nothing to do with running. I looked good and I knew it. I also knew the guy I was dating would be watching. It feels wrong to admit it but that’s the truth.
Thirst traps are vain. There’s no escaping this fact. And Instagram, Twitter and TikTok are playgrounds for the conventionally attractive to remind their audience of this. However, some have argued that platforms like TikTok have helped “democratise” thirst traps and allow anyone to show off. We have divested from the typical, thin, white Eurocentric ideal and realised that sex appeal looks different in our own digital neighbourhoods. Many marginalised people have used thirst traps to affirm their desirability in a society that would like them to fit in. As Madison Godrey shared with Refinery29 last year, “As a non-binary person, I’m tired of being celebrated for my resilience. This year, I just want to be celebrated for being hot.” Similarly, when it comes to Black fat women and femmes, posting thirst traps is one way to disrupt beauty standards and promote body diversity but it’s also sexy and iconic. As Lizzo said to People back in 2022, “I think I have a really hot body! I’m a body icon…” And where would social media be without Lizzo twerking in her pool while she plays her flute? I dread to imagine the internet without it.
“Be the thirst trap you want to see in the world.”
tOLLY T, The receipts podcast
While content creators have been working on appearing more authentic and vulnerable, some Black women online have been enjoying being “delusional” (Eg: When rapper Glorilla posts a pic of herself with the caption “I’m so thick wtf!” who are we to say otherwise?). This includes rejecting any unspoken pressures for Black women to be humble and posting sexy pictures and videos just because. However, this isn’t always celebrated. Black women and femmes, especially, are often accused of objectifying themselves and perpetuating over-sexualised stereotypes. It’s a legitimate concern but policing Black women’s self-expression is a concern, too.
“People are very conscious of the over-sexualisation of Black women,” says Adamu. “[When posting thirst traps] you get in your own head, where you’re like, I don’t want to just be this sex object because I’m already seen like that as a Black woman. You don’t want to feed into the fire. But then also, I think it’s a bit sad because you’re missing feeling your own sexiness and being like, ‘I’m a hot bitch’.”
Chloe Bailey is one Black woman in the public eye who has been routinely criticised for being “too sexy” and has been forced to clap back at naysayers who claim her sexy outfits and performances are “forced and contrived.”
“When Chloe Bailey started posting sexy pictures, people were like, ‘You’re posting this for free?’” says Adamu. “Everything [on social media] is about money now, that’s how thirst traps have evolved.” As a social strategist, Adamu acknowledges that thirst traps still have their place but mainly on Only Fans, where the highest-paid earners are making life-changing money from posting sexual content. Nowadays, most thirst traps seen on Instagram lead to sexual content hidden behind a paywall.
While we may have become somewhat desensitised to the average thirst trap, I would argue that people still are very horny online. You only have to look to BookTok and the sales of smut, Bridgerton, or the comment section under Unbothered’s recent Denzel Washington post. Thirst traps as we’ve known them may become a relic of a hornier time. But, let’s face it, I don’t want to participate in an internet where Megan Thee Stallion isn’t doing Hot Girl Shit.
Much has been said about our relationship with our social media profiles, our body image and the parasocial relationships we have with strangers on these apps. No matter what we post, we are all thirsty for some form of validation.
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