#Spike's Massage Service

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 bmf

synopsis: zoro doesn't take kindly to you being disrespected... at all.

cw: supposed to parallel piña colada, fluffy fluff, comfort, ZORO DOES NOT PLAY ABOUT YOU, protective zoro, decent amount of profanity in this one, zoro is mr. handle it.

a/n: I LOVE LANA SO MUCH I IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF ZORO WHEN I HEARD THIS SONG <3 i suggest you listen to it while reading for the full experience.

"This is insane!" a random onlooker exclaimed, hand gripping his hair in disbelief. "Are these guys even human?!"

His shouts of surprise were followed by howls of excitement from the other passerby, everyone packed tightly around your net and towels to get a glimpse of the action.

Originally, the boys had been taking on challengers in four-on-four volleyball matches, but when they kept kicking everyone's ass, they opted for two on two between themselves instead.

The current match was Sanji and Usopp vs. Zoro and Franky.

And the entire crowd was on the edge of their seats.

"C'mon, Sanji! Get your head in the game!" Nami exclaimed, slightly tipsy, as she gripped onto her wad of cash. "If you lose this, I'm out thirty thousand berries!"

"Yes, Nami-Swan! Your wish is my command!" the lovesick cook squealed, completely stopping what he was doing to gawk at her, his eyes turning heart-shaped.

With a smirk, Zoro took the opportunity to launch himself in the air, meeting Franky's set perfectly and spiking the ball into the sand with a deafening slam, the force creating a small crater.

"Yes! Good job, Zo'!" you cheered, pumping your free fist in the air while the other held your swordsman's sake.

"SANJI!" Nami growled, furious.

With a small chuckle, Robin glanced up from her book, eyes carefully examining the navigator's puffed cheeks and childish pout.

'Adorable...'

"Nami, this is supposed to be a vacation..." you snickered, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you relax?"

"I would be relaxed if I was making money!" she huffed, crossing her arms over his chest. "I ask him to do one thing, and he can't even do that!"

"This is for the win! One last rally!" Chopper announced, happily jumping atop his lifeguard chair.

"C'mon, Sanji, you gotta help me on this!" Usopp exclaimed as he grabbed the cook by his shoulders, attempting to shake him out of it. "There's no way I'm stopping them if they pull that move again!"

"Nice work, bro!" Franky commended, giving your moss-haired swordsman a high-five as he approached the service line, ball in hand.

"Thanks," he nodded, a cocky smirk settling on his lips as he turned to face the net. "Now, let's finish this... I got a nice bottle of sake waiting for me."

Out the corner of his eye, he glanced at his towel, where you sat, reapplying your sunscreen.

Carefully, you squeezed a glob into your palm, closing the cap before rubbing your hands together and massaging it into the flesh of your legs.

Like a dog with a bone, he watched, mesmerized, as you caressed your skin, the sunscreen giving you an alluring shine and making your legs look ripe and tender for the grabbing.

'Goddamn...'

He grinned, taking in the light (f/c) of your bikini, along with the waist beads hanging lazily over your stomach, and the gold anklets and bracelets that jingled with your every movement.

You looked oh-so sexy, and he was oh-so ready to join you.

"Let's hurry this up!"

Tossing the ball in the air, he served, sending it flying over the net with the force of a cannonball.

"Sanji!" Usopp shrieked, eyes wide with fear as he slapped his hands on his cheeks.

"Diable Mouton Shot!" Sanji spat, jumping into the air and hitting the ball with a flaming kick, sending the it right back.

The damned thing caught on fire with his force, and was headed straight for the sand.

"What a weak serve! I'd expect that from you, moss for brains!"

"HAH?! YOU WANNA SAY THAT AGAIN!"

"I got it, bro!" Franky dove, extending his fist in the nick of time and saving the ball, letting it bounce into the sky. "All you!"

Pissed, Zoro broke into a running start before launching himself into the air once again, the crowd going wild as he wound up his arm for one monster slam.

Suddenly, something called his attention to the sidelines, his eyes instantly landing on the (h/c) head of hair that belonged to his girlfriend.

You were smiling from ear to ear, beaming with pride, hands clasped together as you watched him soar through the air.

Finding his eyes, you gave your swordsman a firm nod, your expression encouraging him to push forward.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

With renewed vigor, Zoro turned to the ball, your support turning his drive into pure, molten fire.

He roared, striking down on the ball, executing a perfect spike.

"Ow!" a random woman winced as she walked past, lifting up her foot. "Stupid seashells..."

"Do you need help, my dear?! I'd be glad to carry you wherever you need to go!" Sanji offered, practically teleporting to her side with a lovesick grin.

"SANJI!" Usopp screamed, terrified, as the ball came careening toward him.

Frantic, he dove out the way, just barely saving his ass as it slammed into the ground with a thunderous crack, a large burst of sand shooting up from the ground.

For a moment, the crowd was silent, before erupting with roars of joy and excitement.

Everyone rushed Zoro as he landed, Franky letting out loud whoops and howls of victory.

"SANJI!" Nami shouted, dropping herself face first in her towel. "My berries!"

"Zoro and Franky win! Way to go, Zoro!" Chopper cheered, jumping off of the lifeguard chair.

"That move was killer, man!" one of the onlookers exclaimed. "I could barely see the ball!"

"You should go pro! You'd make a killing!" another added.

"Great game!"

"Good job!"

"You're the best player I've ever seen!”

"That last spike was insane! A little higher and you could've jumped over the net!"

The women were next to swarm, pushing past the men and surrounding him on all sides.

"Nice game, hot stuff!"

"You're really strong, aren't you?"

"You doin' anything later tonight?"

Zoro rolled his eyes, unamused, as he attempted to maneuver around them, one thing on his mind.

You.

Though, as he managed to peer past the crowd of girls, he caught sight of a man next to his towel.

He was large for an average guy, muscular and decently good-looking with shaggy brown hair.

But that wasn't what bothered Zoro.

What bothered Zoro was the way he was talking to you, forcibly positioning himself to tower over your sitting form and using a sharp tone that sparked a few embers of anger in the swordsman's chest.

Who the fuck did he think he was talking to?

"You got a name, handso—?" "Move."

Pushing past her and the other girls, he power-walked toward your umbrella, getting close enough to actually make out what you were saying.

"Look, whatever your name is, I'm trying to help you out," you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I can't promise your safety if my boyfriend comes back here and catches you acting like this."

He'd been at this for fifteen minutes...

After Robin left to go get a drink, and Nami ran off to kick Sanji's ass, he swooped in like a vulture on the hunt, attempting to put the moves on you.

He used every line in the book, laying it on thick as he bragged about his weight-lifting stats and obnoxiously flexed his muscles in your face.

"My safety?" he scoffed, letting out a haughty chuckle at your outlandish statement. "Sweetheart, if anything, your boyfriend's the one that should be worryin' about safety. I guarantee you I'm twice the man he is."

You paused a moment, almost disbelieving, lifting up your shades and waiting to see if the man was serious.

He was.

Deadly serious, actually.

'HA!'

You threw your head back in a burst of uproarious laughter, the sound causing the man to jolt with surprise, and slight confusion.

He'd never seen your expressions range anything past disinterest, so seeing you so amused by the idea of him beating up your boyfriend was... jarring, to say the least.

But you couldn't help yourself.

Zoro, the man with a bounty over one billion?

Zoro, the master of the sword belonging to the king of hell?

Zoro, the man who has moved literal mountains with his bare hands?

It was almost too much.

The man's brows furrowed, face burning at the mockery.

"The hell is so fuckin' funny?!" he huffed, growing anger.

Attempting to regain your composure, you wiped a tear from your eye, slightly clutching your stomach as your laughs died down.

"You wish," you snickered into the rim of your fruity drink, taking a sip as you attempted to muffle your chuckles. "He'd kill you... like actually."

Furious, the man took a harsh step forward, completely invading your personal space and smacking your drink out your hand, knocking the cup into the sand.

"You think I'm some kind of joke, bitch?!" he exclaimed, the veins in his neck bulging.

"Pick it up."

Zoro's voice traveled through the air like a wave of ice, quelling the slight pangs of worry in your chest like water to a fire.

Feeling tough, the man snapped his head around, meeting your swordsman with a harsh glare.

That is... until he realized who he was talking to.

Instantly, the wind left his sails, eyes widening and heart sinking like a rock in a river as it all finally clicked.

Your boyfriend was one of the most wanted men in the New World.

"Y-You... Y-You're... Pirate Hunter?!"

"I said... pick it up," Zoro pressed, tone leaving no room for argument, eye sharply trained on the bastard in front of him. "Before I make you do it myself."

"Look! I didn't know she was your girlfriend!" the man blubbered, practically shaking as he scrambled to pick up your glass, frantically handing it to you. "I didn't mean it! I don't want any trouble!"

"Then get lost," Zoro spat, harshly, brows cinching with anger. "You come around here again and I'll show you who's the real bitch."

The man didn't have to hear it twice.

Like that, he was gone, running back to his friends with his tail between his legs.

Finally able to sit, Zoro plopped himself down next to you, muttering and grumbling to himself in annoyance as he watched the man run away.

He let him off easy—only because you chewed him out the last time he "went overboard" and caused an island-wide incident, forcing the crew to evacuate.

He nearly murdered the island's sovereign for calling you out of your name, and doubling down when he told him to watch his mouth.

Tenderly, you grabbed his chin, pulling him in and placing a thankful kiss on his cheek as you handed off his sake.

"My hero," you cooed, teasingly.

With a grumble, he popped the cork with his teeth, taking a large swig with puffed cheeks, before breaking off with a harsh sigh.

As he wiped the excess with the back of his hand, he glanced at the man once again, anger flaring in his chest when the bastard hid behind his umbrella.

Like a goddamn child...

Zoro scoffed, taking another swig of his sake.

"Fuckin' pussy..."

[ediblechainsaw]

Your Devoted, part two!!

Part one

Stalker!König x fem!reader

Cw. Badly translated German, shitty writing, König cums in his pants, and oral sex (f receiving)

As always, if you have any ideas please ask!!

Enjoy!!!

Its been over two weeks since that man left that tip, and it actually seems like your life is going better. The one rude customer that liked to verbally abuse you? He hasn't came in in a while. That gang of men that hang out down the street, that you pass every day on your walk home from work? They no longer catcall you, or even look at you as you walk past. Your shitty next door neighbor that blasts music into the early hours of the morning? You haven't heard a sound from his apartment.

It's actually releiving, like you're being repayed for all the times you were wronged or mistreated.

The only concerning thing is that things keep appearing in your home. Money in the front pocket of your jeans when your sure there wasn't any. Groceries in your fridge and cabinets, all the brands and kinds you usually buy. Your pet food being delivered just when you need it the most. Your favorite candy bar, in the middle of your coffee table.

Things you don't remember doing, but actually benefit you. You wonder if it is that guys doing, but who would go out of their way to make life easier for you? Wouldn't he have better things to do than waste his energy on you?

Well, you aren't exactly complaining. Coming home after a hard day in working customer service and seeing your favorite snack sitting on your coffee table? It was almost.. attractive.

You find yourself on your couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, snack in hand and your mind flickering back to that guy. The overtipped. Your.. Devoted.

Gorgeous wasnt even the word to describe him; tall with line backer shoulders, sharp features, short light hair and peircing eyes, muscles and that accent. Damn. You had never been much of an accent girl, but damn were you weak kneed by just hearing his voice.

He hasn't come back since, hasn't came in for another cup of coffee. The only sign of life from him is the things left in your apartment while you're gone.

So expect the surprise when you hear a loud crash from your bedroom.

A crash, curse, and figure walking down the hallway, limping slightly.

Him, your adorer. And he looks as surprised to see you on your couch as you do, seeing him in your hallway.

You stare at him, blink, then swallow. Your body reacts in a way that it never has towards a man. You suck in a sharp breath, hands trembling slightly but not with fear. With an emotion more intense, more captivating.

You're still as a statue, maybe even more still, as he slowly walks over to where you sit on your worn in couch, feet no longer propped on the coffee table. The only noise is the aound of your shaky, quick breathing and his slow, even breaths as he kneels between your legs, his hands on his knees and eyes holding a thousand promises.

"Hallo, meine Göttin." His voice is soft and deep, and that accent is just as drugging as when you heard it weeks ago. "I apologize, I did not know you were home."

You wonder to yourself if you're hallucinating. Maybe someone spiked your coffee earier.

"Are you afraid?"

Finally, you find your voice, "uh, yeah. Obviously."

He laughs softly, deep and amused, "no need to be. I am not here to hurt you, engel."

In your chest, your heart beats so quickly that you can't tell if its skipping beats or just beating too quickly. "How.. how do I know that?"

"Meine engel, I am your devoted. I cherish you. I would cut my own hand off before I try to hurt you," his words are soft, genuine, but you can't help but be suspicious. Especially when he's saying this about you.

"You could just be saying that."

He makes a soft noise, you can't tell whether its unhappy or amused. His hands, large and skilled, massage your feet softly. "Let me show you, then, meine Göttin, yes?"

You don't answer, don't tell him yes or no, but as he massages your feet and up your calves, you find yourself realzing into your couch cushions. While you want to close your eyes and fully relax, you can't bring yourself to take your eyes off of him. Especially not when he lowers his lips to your knees and kisses softly, eyes fixed on yours, deep and full of desire. You shiver with anticipation, skin on fire from his lips. Almost hesitantly, you reach of and run your fingers through his hair.

König's eyes flutter shut for a moment, a soft, pleased noise sounding from his lips and he tilts his head into your hand. "Would you like more, meine engel? Mm?"

As if possessed, you nod. The fear you thought filled you, the hesitation to give yourself to this man, is erased, replaced by an overwhelming need for him.

He presses another kiss to your knee as a thank you, then trails his lips up your thigh and iver the fabric of your shorts. Its hard to tell who moans, especially since your mind blanks when you feel his hot breath against your core through the fabric of your shorts. Shivers wreak your body, and König holds your hips down with his hands, humming softly and cooing compliments, both in English and German. His fingers hook onto the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your hips and sliding them off your legs. He leans back on his legs, admiring you. Smooth skin, legs spread, face flushed, pink lips parted and chest rising and falling woth every breath.

He leans back forward, your thin pair of panties the only thing between him and your cunt as he presses his face against the more vulnerable part of your body. Sucking in a loud breath of air, you grab his hair in your hands, your body reacting instinctively as you raise your hips closer to his face, chasing the feeling.

He moans, the vibrations adding to the pleasure spreading through your stomach. His hands slip from your waist to cup your ass, pulling you closer to the edge of the couch for better access. Slowly, teasingly, he pulls your panties off. He looks up at you, eyes begging for permission, and you nod breathlessly.

With permission, he dives in.

While you've been given oral before, nothing would've prepared you for the way he eats you out. Relentlessly, passionately, like he's been starving for years. He slurps up your juices like he's stranded in the desert amd your the only water he's had in days. His tongue presses flat against your clit before he tilts your hips more to lick from your labia to your clit, before entering his tongue inside of you.

You loose yourself in it, in his tongue inside of your and nose pressing against your clit, spit and juices covering his mouth and leaking onto the couch as you clutch at his head. You can't even muster a sentence, the only noises leaving your mouth being moans and whimpers, or the occasional plea for more.

König is more that happy to give you more. His pants are so tight around his throbbing dick, the pressure boarderline painful as he makes you come on his tongue. He thrust into nothing, eyes rolling back in his head as he releases in his pants without even being touched, just the sounds of your beautiful noises sending him ober the edge.

He doesn't stop eating you out, milking you and licking every bit of come leaking from your greedy pussy. Eventually, shaking and overwhelmed, you tug at his hair. Its then that he lifts his head, his lower dace covered in your arousal and you moan softly.

"Do you believe me now, meine Götten?"

Drained for your orgasm, bones liquid and body weak, all you can do is nod and listen as he laughs softly. He scoops your up in his arms, carrying you with ease to your bedroom and laying you down on the bed. König slips under the covers next to you, pulling you to him and making sure that you're comfortable.

"Meine engel, so pretty for me," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your head. "Thank you for letting me prove to you that I mean no harm. I am sorry to not introduce myself before, I am König."

You tell him your name, tired and not thinking completely straight. He laughs, "I know that, engel. But it is nice to officially meet you."

You mumble something back, nuzzling into his chest and falling asleep.

During the night, König decides that your his, and when you wake up in the morning he wastes no time kissing you and informing you of that.

And how could you say no to such a devoted man?

[quiet-out-there]

Please

summary: When Finnick notices how the reader's drink has been spiked with sex pollen at one of President Snows Balls, he and Peeta make a plan to save her from the special services the victors sometimes provide for the capitol. Finnick causes a distraction, while Peeta makes sure to take the reader away to safety, only the plan doesn’t go accordingly, and ends up with a sex crazed reader stuck on a closet.

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Warnings: sexual content, slight dubious consent, fingering, lots of praise, dom!Peeta??, reader under sex pollen

Notes: This is my first attempt at a shortfic about Peeta Mellark, as I have been quite obsessed with him lately This story is a short fic with little to no plot, so, enjoy the smut ;) For any weird grammar mistake, feel free to correct me for as inglish isn't my first lenguage!

Word count: 6.6k

Giff: @xiaolanhua

Finnick cursed out loud, grabbing the attention of some of the most important and exclusive people in Panem who were nearby. They began to chuckle and whisper among themselves in return, clearly enjoying the sudden outburst of District’s four beloved victor. Peeta, on the other hand, quickly realized something was wrong, politely ending the conversation with an all too eager sponsor who was in the midst of trying to convince him to go back to her room together. She was old, caked with so much makeup her features were almost unrecognizable. Staring at her for too long made Peeta feel uneasy, as if he were in a fever dream, where everything was washed in an eerie distortion, almost normal but not quite. 

“Are you okay?” was the first thing he said once he got to Finnick’s side, standing beside one of the absurdly food collapsed tables at one of the ballrooms corners. He was holding a glass filled with sweet smelling liquor, his hand so tightly wrapped around it his knuckles were turning white. Peeta was sure it was going to burst into pieces in just a matter of seconds, so he quickly reached for Finnick’s hand, surprised to find little to no resistance as he took the glass away and set it on the table. The motion seemed to snap Finnick out of whatever trance he had been in, blinking at Peeta as if he were just now assessing his presence there.

“What?” was all he could manage to say, his eyes returning their focus to something far away, the feather of a muscle twitching as he grounded his jaw.

“What's wrong?” Peeta pushed, following the man's gaze in an attempt to understand what he was seeing that was making him so mad. Finnick had a temper, Peeta knew that, but it was always tightly concealed in that calm and easy-going facade he portrayed, his armor against everything. It took quite an effort to make him lose his composure.

“(y/n)” He answered, voice made of steel. Peeta frowned, eyes desperately trying to find what was going on, his chest tightening at the mention of your name, “They dosed her drink with an aphrodisiac powder.”

Peeta’s whole body froze, his eyes snapping back to the man beside him. 

“What do you mean aphrodisiac powder, what the hell even is that?”

But Peeta could already imagine what it meant, what they were doing it for. Anger rose in his blood like fire, pumping into his heart, beating so fast it was starting to make it hard for him to breathe -

“Finnick” He managed to get out, hand coming up to grab the man’s arm, turning him to face him.

“I recognized this man talking to Snow earlier” Finnick began, his eyes closing as one of his hands came to massage his temple, as if a piercing headache was making it hard for him to think “He is the one who arranges the customers for-,” he took a deep breath before opening his eyes to meet Peeta's wide ones “ the special services from the victors the capitol sometimes provides”

His stomach churned in a way that threatened to make Peeta vomit every expensive item of food he had ingested tonight, right on the pristine marble floor. He knew exactly what Finnick was talking about. Haymitch had told him about this business Snow ran, a way for him to further control the victors, make them pay for whatever rule breaking he deemed was done on their game, threatening their family’s life as a cost of it. But (y/n) had won fair, she had outsmarted the players, not the capitol, she didn't deserve this, she-

“I have been watching this man all evening, analyzing his moves, trying to figure out who Snow had sold to him,” Finnick continued, interrupting Peeta’s running thoughts. “It was easy enough to discover, with the way he has been practically stalking (y/n) all night.” An exasperated sigh escaped his lips “But something is different this time. He hasn't come up to talk to her and she is completely oblivious to him, as if she doesn't know what Snow has done, as if she hasn't been warned what would happen if she denies”

Her family, massacred. Peeta swallowed, his throat painfully dry all of a sudden. 

“That’s when I noticed what he was doing” Finnick’s hands bawled into fists by his sides, his eyes returning to scan the room before returning to Peeta’s, “They are drugging her, filling her with aphrodisiac poison that will make her unable to think of anything more than sex. They are making her into a puppet so they can take advantage of her, avoiding the resistance, the threats, the compromise on her part.”

“That is sick” Peeta breathed out, feeling lightheaded and utterly disgusted.

“People here in the capitol are absolutely rotten” Finnick spat, “I have been a victim of that drug before. It is so potent, it makes it physically painful to deny sex, it forces the body to need it on a primal level, triggering an almost survival instinct.” 

Peeta cringed at the thought of Finnick, barely a teen, being a subject to all this.

“We have to do something, we have to save her” Peeta rushed through whispered words, his eyes looking around them in search of anyone who could be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Yes” Finnick agreed, “But we must do it inconspicuously, or they could end up hurting her even more.” 

“What is your plan?” Peeta’s breathing eased a little, his chest loosening at the reminder of Finnick’s clever mind. 

“Once the effects of the drugs kick in, she will quickly excuse herself to the bathroom. There, I will intercept the man, distract him. Make a big scene if I must.” The ghost of a smirk pulled at Finnick’s lips at the thought, before it was quickly wiped away as he continued “You will find (y/n) and get her the hell out of here, but not to her room. They will be probably expecting her there” Peeta shuddered at the thought, nodding at Finnick.

“Where is she now?” Peeta inquired, his eyes returning to the crowd, unable to find the girl in question.

“Near Snow’s fountain, to the left side of the room. She is talking to a man with a neon green top hat.”

Peeta found you instantly then, the loud pounding of his heart in his ears drowning any other sound. You looked so beautiful, he couldn't help to notice, with your hair pulled away from your face in an elegant updo, filled with colored jewels that caught and reflected every light on the ball room, like a beacon. Your dress was made of black jewels as well, hugging every hill and dip of your body in an exquisite way, a slit on the side of your hip revealing the tan skin of your right leg. And your smile, so bright as you laughed at some joke the man before you had uttered, it took his breath away- until he realized how your chest was moving rapidly, as if the air entering your lungs wasn't enough, at how your skin was covered in a sheen of sweet, some stray away hairs curling around the nape of your neck and around your face, and at the way your hands had begun to tremble, hiding the away by clasping them tightly behind your back.

“It is starting,” Finnick commented, straightening his shoulders as if preparing himself to move. Peeta did the same, struggling to calm his fast beating heart.

You offered the man another smile, this one polite, apologetic. The man dipped his head and moved out of your way, allowing you to begin moving into the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, towards the other side of the room, where the bathrooms were located. Finnick nodded at Peeta, signaling to start moving the same way as you. They got to there first, and Finnick leaned forward to whisper right on Peeta’s ear, in a gesture that seemed like a warm goodbye from a friend to the ignorant eye. 

“I will go for the man, you grab (y/n) and leave right away, don't waste time on explanations until you are both alone and safe.” 

Peeta nodded, clasping his back as reassurance. He could do this, he told himself, willing his body to calm down, to gather his anxious thoughts. 

Before Finnick finally pulled away, he added in a tense, almost somber tone, so lowly his words almost got forgotten among the chattering crowd.

“Do what you must to help her, she’ll be glad it was you and not someone else.”  

Peeta’s brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask what Finnick meant by that, he was already being swallowed by the crowd, disappearing among the vibrant colors, the moving bodies, the discordant music that made Peeta’s teeth greet in discomfort. 

Peeta moved onto the side of the bathroom door, acting as if his shoelace had been untied and crouching down to fix it, avoiding anyone starting a conversation with him that could complicate his inconspicuous escape. 

It only took a couple of minutes before he heard your voice,

“S-Sorry, excuse me please” You sounded breathless, words tight in your throat, as if the mere effort to get them out was painful. 

Peeta got up then, instantly identifying you making your way out of the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to the bathroom. He walked up to you just as you took the door handle in your shaky hand, grabbing your wrist in a secure grip before pulling you along with him, without stopping to say anything. You gasped in shock, stumbling slightly over your feet before you could manage to keep up with his fast pace. You pulled at his hand in an attempt to be let go, but he ignored you, mind only focused on one thing-

The exit door, only a couple of steps away

 “Peeta!” you exclaimed as you finally recognized him, struggling to maintain a composure, smile wavering between a frown and a grimace of pain “What the fuck are you doing?” you whispered, feeling as though your vision was shaking, not being able to see people anymore, just shapes and colors merging together in a sickening spin-

You were going to throw up.

“I’m going to be sick” you pleaded, arm now falling limp on his firm grip, deciding to leave fate in his hands- unable to do anything to resist, and knowing deep down Peeta would never hurt you.

Peeta’s heart squeezed on his chest as he heard you, and he opened his mouth to explain -what? he did not know- anything to make you feel better, to help you understand what was going on,

But then a crushing sound vibrated across the room, making people gasp and scream in shock, their attention now focused on the other side of the room. 

Finnick

Peeta let out a sigh of relief as he got to the entrance door, which was luckily open, not a peacekeeper in sight.  He didn't waste a second to pull you out towards the main hall, where the elevator to the victor's rooms was.

“It will be alright (y/n), I promise” Peeta finally spoke, his voice just above a whisper, as he continued his way with unbreakable determination, both of your steps resonating against the glass floor the only sound in the spacious room “just trust me, okay?”

You felt as if Peeta’s voice was coming from underwater, muffled and far away- But still managed to understand.

“Okay” You replied, unable to voice any other word running through your dizzy brain - Your heart, you realized, it was beating so fast you couldn't catch a breath, and your skin, it felt so uncomfortable, so tight against your body- you wanted to rip it out. And the heat, the fucking heat

Peeta’s hand freed your wrist as he pressed the elevator’s button in a frantic pace, his other coming up to grip your hip, pushing so you stood in front of him, blocking the view of your body with his. 

You were so close now, bodies almost pressed together. His smell invaded you like the most intoxicating, addictive perfume you had ever sensed, tightening your chest in a silent hitch of breath - And his touch- so firm and strong, fingers pressing down on the overly sensitive flesh on your hip witch was barely covered in the thin material of your jeweled gown- it set flames through your veins

Peeta heard the rush of voices coming down the hall, right from where you had come, before he felt their quick heels clad steps coming closer. Whatever Finnick had done, it had set a commotion enough to make people begin to retreat to their chambers in a hurry. 

His eyes snapped to the elevator, the bright gold number still stuck on the 7th floor, and he realized it wasn't going to come by quick enough - They were already nearing the corner, they were going to catch the both of you, they were going to take you away and hurt you-

He secured your hand in his before he began to pull you further down the hall, your feet struggling to find their footing but managing not to stumble over them as you followed him. There was only one door in the hall, right on the end of it, a black metal block painted in bright gold. Peeta didn't bother to knock on it as he grabbed the handle, twisting it at the same time he pushed the side of his body on it to open it- and to his surprise and utter relief- it did. He didn't waste a second to push you inside, head twisting back one last time to see down the hall, where he noticed a couple of people beginning to appear, their vibrant colors striking against the pristine white walls and gold floor details. 

He closed the door behind him, leaving out the light from the hall, engulfing you both in complete darkness. He let out a long breath, his head dropping back against the door frame, a chuckle leaving his chest before he could stop it.

You tried to blink back the darkness, but your eyes were still struggling to adjust. Something was very wrong, you realized, as you couldn't seem to make the air from the space enter your lungs. You stepped back from the man in front of you in an attempt to gain some distance and ground yourself, but you felt the cool jab of metal meet your back- you twisted on the spot, freeing your hand from Peeta’s as you extended your arms in front of you. And you felt, to your utter horror, how on every side you were met with metal railings or the cool feeling of painted concrete walls. 

The space was tiny. A closet, of some sorts, you figured with a leap of your heart.

 “I can't” you gasped aloud, one hand coming up to clutch your chest, pulling at the absurd number of necklaces that had been wrapped around your neck- it felt as if you were choking “I can't breathe.” 

Peeta’s hands were instantly extended in search of you, his eyes wide in an attempt to see something, but only being met with darkness. 

“It is okay, hey, I’m here” He whispered, one of his hands brushing your shoulder. The contact made electricity run down your body, and you twisted in an attempt to get away from his touch, managing only to bump into the railing so hard, their contents began to fall onto the floor-

Peta cursed under his breath at the loud sound of stuff crashing against the glass floor, his heart drumming onto his chest as he felt the footsteps from outside alarmingly close. 

“Hey, hey calm down” He tried again, his hand grabbing your shoulder this time. And you tried to twist away again, desperate to get away from the warmth, the heat of his body, his burning touch-

it was too much, too much 

You pushed into the railing again making it crash against the wall in a loud bang. 

“(y/n)” Peeta rushed, his voice tight on his chest in anxiousness. But you didn't hear him, wouldn't hear him, needing to get away, desperately trying to do so-

Peeta felt the voices outside begin to wonder what those noises down the hall were, their loud cackling dimming down as if to hear better. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before somebody came up to investigate,

“Calm down” He ordered, voice low, almost a murmur. You could feel it vibrating on your chest, “We have to stay quiet, or they will find us.”

You tried to reason with his words, to obey, to understand what the fuck was going on - but then a pang of pain shot down your belly, taking the air from your lungs in a rush of a breath, before settling in a tight coil of aching between your legs. It made a whine fall from your lips before you could stop it, eyes closing as you hugged your body tightly.

Peeta’s heart stopped when he felt nearing footsteps, arms shooting forward when he heard your loud whine of pain at the same time, determined now to make you quiet. One hand found your hip as the other your arm, and he didn't waste a second to twist your bodies, so you stood with your back pressed to his chest. One of his strong arms circled your waist, locking you into him in a grip so tight you couldn't move an inch, as his other hand came to your face, palm pressing onto your mouth to silence any noise. 

And just like that, your senses cleared, they sharpened, they focused and circled on only one thing-

Him.

The way his warm body was pressed to yours, the feeling of his strong muscled arm wrapped around your waist, the way his chest pushed against you in every intake of breath, the feeling of his heart pounding so loud and fast against your back- and his god damn smell, so sweet and dark and intoxicating- it made the coil deep within your core tighten painfully, breath hitching on your throat.   

Peeta strained his ear to hear whatever was going on outside, the footsteps stopping just inches away, its shadow casting beneath the door frame. But it was so hard to concentrate on anything else that the way for body felt pressed to his - so warm he thought you might be having a fever-  and the way you were breathing so hard and fast, you were panting against his hand- but he could notice, he could see how much you were trying to do as he said, to stay still and be quiet, even if you were in so much discomfort 

“That’s it, calm down” He whispered, lowering his head so his lips were pressed to your ear, making sure only you could hear him. “You are doing so good” he praised, the words warm against your skin. 

The way he phrased those words was enough to make a shiver run through your spine and make your head spin with desire. You hadn't noticed the way you had begun to press further onto him, almost as if desperate to be closer, to feel him even further. And his hand, his fucking hand had begun to rub the side of your waist in a comforting way,

You were melting. But you wanted more, you needed more-

Peeta tried to ignore the way you had begun to move against him, how your breathing had changed to something deeper, how your mouth let slip little whines and moans against his hand. He knew it was the drug's effect, he knew you couldn't help it, he knew he had to maintain a clear head, to take care of you and make sure you stayed safe.

And then you felt it, as you ground your body against his, you felt something hard begin to press against your ass. It made something in you snap, a need so desperate and maddening, it made fire rush through your veins as if boiling from the inside out- it made your brain drunk and fuzzy with desire- and the pain, the excruciating coil tightening between your legs, it was too much, too much.    

Peeta felt your hand suddenly grip his, moving his arm away from your hip. He felt almost in a daze, as if unable to stop you as you moved it down your body. His breath hitched in your ear as you pressed his hand right between your legs, where you needed him the most. The thin material of your jeweled gown was the only thing standing between his fingers and your pussy- he could feel how warm you were, and cursed aloud when he noticed also how wet. 

“We can't” He whispered; voice slightly breaking as he felt you increase the pressure of his fingers “They have drugged you with an aphrodisiac. You are not thinking straight-”  

A moan slipped through your lips, muffled by his hand still pressed against your mouth. Peeta's eyes strained on the doorframe, noticing the shadow gone. He almost sighed in relief, until he felt the loud chuckles coming from outside-

they were still there.

Your brain couldn't comprehend anything else but the need for him. A need that was becoming so strong, the pain was unbearable. You could feel tears swell in your eyes as you gasped, your other hand coming up to push away his own from your mouth. 

“Please, Peeta, I can't take this anymore- I” you choked on a whine when you felt his other hand slip from away from your body “-I need you, please, just help me.”

You pleaded, head dropping back against his shoulder in utter defeat. 

Peeta cursed again, eyes tightening shut as he searched for the will to contain himself, to find a way to reason with you, to make you understand how this was so wrong-

But then he remembered Finnick's words. ‘Do what you must to help her,’ what did he even mean? Was this the only way you could go through this? You would hate him for it, Peeta thought, taking advantage of you like this- but you were in pain, you were literally crying and shaking in his arms, he couldn't stand seeing you like this, it was breaking him-

“Please” you whined, your own hand coming between your legs to relieve some of the pressure there in a futile attempt- you felt absolutely nothing.

“Okay” he murmured against your ear, telling it more to himself than to you, making up his mind. “How can I help you, (y/n), just tell me how.” 

You sigh in relief at his words, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Touch me” you whispered, breathless “Please.”

Peeta felt lightheaded with the way you were so desperate, so needy for him. In any other circumstance, he would have given away with the first please ever uttered from your beautiful lips- because you were always so composed, so strong, so unwavering- hearing you like this was making him almost as desperate for you as you were for him.

“Please what?” Peeta couldn't help to reply, his voice just as breathless as yours, beginning to move his arms, tentatively resting his hands on your hips.

You groaned in frustration, beginning to push yourself away from him so you could turn around to face him when you felt one of his strong hands spread across your abdomen, pushing you right back against him. He was so strong, you couldn't help but think, imagining his hands pushing and pulling other parts, handling you as if it were nothing-

“Please, Peeta” you begged.

Peeta melted at the sound of those tight words in your throat.

“So polite” he praised, finally moving one hand to the side of your hip where the slit of your gown began. His callous warm fingers met your bare skin there and you sighed in content “Such a good girl” he whispered, mouth pressing down just below your right earlobe, in that sensitive spot that felt to good it sent tingles down your body and made you moan out loud before you could stop it-

Peeta’s other hand instantly moved to cover your mouth once again, roughly pushing your head back against his shoulder. 

“What was that?” A woman’s voice exclaimed from the hall outside, filled with delight “Sounds like someone’s having a good time!”

Peeta cursed on your ear, the words sounding even more coarse coming out of his mouth. 

You whimpered, unable to take the pain between your legs any longer- your heart was beating so fast, it seemed as if you couldn't catch your breath, your skin so taut you thought it might snap over your bones, and the heat- you thought you might pass out 

“Shh it’s okay” Peeta tried to calm you, his eyes glued to the shadows now outside of your door. Had they figured someone was inside here? “Be quiet doll, you can do it.”

You nodded your head in a haze, desperate to show him you would do anything he said. 

Peeta knew you couldn't take it any longer, practically limp in his arms, trembling in his grip. He took in a shaky deep breath before he began to move the hand on your hip underneath the surprisingly thin material of your gown. Your skin was so smooth and soft, and so, so warm- Peeta had to take a minute to just caress between your hip and upper thigh, savoring the feeling of your tender flesh beneath his rough fingers - before he heard your impatient cry from within his hand covering your mouth. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the shadows beneath the door begin to move away, using the courage to finally dip his fingers between your thighs. His breath hitched when he noticed you didn't have anything under your gown, being met with your bare pussy right beneath his finger, hand freezing in place as the realization of what he was doing, and to whom, dawned on him.

He was about to fuck (y/n), districts four beloved 73rd hunger games victor.

“You are killing me” you mumbled against his palm, desperately pushing your hips forward in an attempt to increase the pressure of his fingers where you needed him most. So, he dipped his hand further, his muscled arm tensing over your belly as he did, bringing you flushed against him. And his fingers, ever so slowly, began to part your folds, his eyes closing as his head dropped down to lean on your shoulders at the feeling of your slick coating his fingers, smoothing his entrance. You bit his hand in an attempt to quiet the moan bubbling on your chest, head pushing back against his shoulder in an attempt to get a grip on yourself.

“So good” he murmured, lips tightly pressed to your ear “So good, so quiet.” 

You could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as he began to rub your wetness up and down, right over the bundle of nerves that send electric waves of pleasure down your body. One of your hands came down to grip his arm, pushing it down with further force- Peeta instantly knew what you wanted, what it meant- and he obliged, increasing the pressure and pace of his fingers. 

The people outside began to cheer for something, the noise followed by clapping. Peeta didn't waste a second to remove his hand against your mouth, moving it down to your chin as he pushed your head further back, adjusting so his ear was right over your mouth-

“Let me hear you doll” He breathed, his fingers quickening their pace almost desperately so- feeling so good it made your toes curl and your thighs squeeze around his hand. And you moaned, so desperate and needy it would have embarrassed you if it weren't for the fact that that was exactly how you felt for him. 

“Peeta” you choked out in a gasp right on his ear, and that was enough to make Peeta lose his mind, a low groan escaping from his own lips, the sound so deep and hoarse it vibrated on his chest.

You could feel his erection pressed on your backside, so hard you knew we wanted you just as much at the moment. And you wanted to feel him, God, it was all you could have ever wanted, so you started to move your hand to your back- until you felt his hand suddenly stop, making you freeze in place. You could hear his ragged breathing, feel his heart pounding against your back-

“Look at me,” He whispered, interrupting the sudden silence. You opened your eyes, surprised to notice how they had adjusted to the darkness, able to see the outlines of the door, the metal railing filled with cleaning supplies- you were in fact, in a closet. And then you looked up, finding his beautiful face before you. 

He was so handsome; you had noticed that the first time you saw him. With his big, deep brown eyes and breathtaking smile. And now, with his messy blonde hair, his parted soft lips, his completely darkened eyes-

He looked delicious.

“You are absolutely beautiful” he murmured, the hand on your chin moving up to cup the side of your face. “(y/n)” he continued, a deep breath leaving his lips, fanning your own. You wanted to taste him so badly “You are not on your right mind, this is not what you want.”

You shook your head, exasperated.

“I want you so badly” you voiced in a shuddering breath “If you don't touch me right now, I think I might die.”

You used his stun position to free from his grasp, finally turning so you were face to face. He looked completely disheveled, his white tux discarded on the floor, and his matching shirt completely wrinkled, the first buttons torn and revealing a slit of tanned skin. 

“I-” He began but you couldn't resist any longer, shutting him up with a kiss. 

His hands were on you instantly, pulling at your hips to position you flush against him, to then wrap his arms around your waist to lock you in place. Your hand snaked to the back of his head, where you tangled them on his hair, slightly pulling it just to hear him groan again- it felt like fuel to the fire inside you. You used the moment to deepen the kiss, meeting his warm tongue inside his mouth. The kiss was desperate, hungry, lips moving feverishly against each other.

Peeta forgot about everything else, about the people on the other side of the door, about getting caught- he could only think about you, about feeling you against him, your lips on his, your tongue on his mouth- he wanted more. His hands began to roam your body, testing, feeling, kneading your soft flesh in a grip so strong you knew would certainly leave bruises. And then they were on your ass, squeezing so tight you moaned against his mouth- and he was lifting you up from the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist-

“I need you” You panted against his lips, finally breaking the kiss. The coil in your lower stomach feeling even more unbearable, the pain was making you see white dots in the corner of your vision “I need you inside me.”

Peeta leaned his forehead to yours, attempting to regain control of himself, to think straight. He sat your body against the railing, separating enough so he could see your face, meet your eyes.

And he stared at you, almost in awe before he spoke again, dropping his head back as if to force himself to stop doing it any longer.

“Your eyes” he breathed out, “they shine so black when you are hot for me.” 

You cupped his face between your warm hands, forcing him to face you as you once again begged-

“please”

Peeta wanted nothing more than to oblige - he would have lifted your gown and fucked you right there against the railings- but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn't, not when you were under the effects of a drug that altered your senses, your reasoning.   

So, he compromised. Not doing anything was torture to you, or so he told himself, moving so one of his arms could fit between both of your bodies while the other began to lift your gown and gather it just over your hips. 

“Are you going to be a good girl and stay quiet?” He panted, his ears once again registering the commotion outside. Seemed like they moved the party to the hall, he realized, glad that the noise had gone louder, hiding what was going on in the little storage closet down the corridor.

“Yes” you whimpered, unable to contain the tears swelling in your eyes due to the pain, and the excitement- 

Such a wreck for him, Peeta thought, brain drunk in desire.

“You are the one killing me, (y/n)” he murmured, holding your gaze with eyes so intense you thought he might be looking through you. 

And then his hand was between your legs again, slowly rubbing your wet folds, surprised at how they were more so than before. He quicken up the pace faster this time, taking his time in enjoying every sinful sound falling from your lips, your head falling back to lean against the railing- you gasped when you felt his other hand grip your chin, thumb and index finger pressing against your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes

“Look at me” he panted, and you thought you might cum just by the way he was looking at you with so much hunger-

And then you gasped in shock as without a warning two of his fingers slipped inside you, his thumb continuing to rub on your sensitive clit. Pleasure shocked through your body making you involuntary shake against the rails, the pressure on your lower abdomen coiling impossibly tighter-

“I'm gonna-” you whined, head leaning forward to try and find somewhere to lean on, but Peeta’s grip held you there on place, forcing you to face him. 

“Say please” He breathed, lips hovering over yours, his fingers moving in and out of you with the perfect pressure, the perfect pace, and his thumb-

“Peeta” you whimpered.

He could feel how close you were, how your walls clenched around his fingers in the most delicious way- he thought he was close himself to climax, just by the way your face scrunched with pleasure, how your body became undone under his touch-

“Come on doll, ask nicely” He encouraged, needing to hear you beg, just one more time.

 “Please” you managed moan.

And he was merciless about it, plunging his fingers into you harder, faster, his thumb rubbing against your clit feverishly, curling his fingers and hitting just the perfect spot-

You become undone with his name on your lips, waves of pleasure erupting from deep within your tummy as the tight coil finally released, toes curling and body jerking. He slowed the pace of his fingers as he continued to ride you out of your orgasm, your shaking body finally collapsing into his, blind with gratification and exhaustion.

Peeta panted against your ear as he finally removed his fingers from inside you, proceeding to hold you tight against him before he lowered you from the railing back onto your feet- until he quickly realized you couldn't stand on your own, arms wrapping securely around your waist and across your back to hold you in place, your own coming up to snake around his neck in a solid embrace.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, his breathing still ragged, heart pounding loudly against your chest pressed to his- you on the other hand, were completely crashing, blood pressure dropping, white stars dancing in the back of your close eyelids. 

“hmm” you hummed, struggling to remain conscious.

“I think they left” Peeta voiced his thoughts, frowning in concentration as he listened for any noise outside- but it was completely quiet, he soon realized. 

You didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, brain completely fogged with satisfaction, body finally out of pain and completely relaxed on his arms, as if meant to be there all along.

“(y/n)” Peeta shook you, his tone finally above a whisper “Hey, I need you to stay here yeah? stay with me.”

You tried to nod but your head just fell limp against his shoulder-

He smelled so fucking good.

“Thank you?” He replied, amusement clear on his breathless words.

You hadn't realized you had voiced your thoughts out loud, a soft chuckle scaping your lips.

“You are completely out of it, aren't you” He sighed, leaning over you so he rested his chin on top of your head, attempting to calm himself down.

You frowned at the height difference, moving your feet, and realizing you were barefoot, heels completely lost somewhere in the tiny closet.

Once Peeta finally could catch his breath, heart in a slightly normal pace, he stepped closer to the door, your almost limp body secure in his strong arms. He pushed the side of his face flat against the cool metal, concentrating on identifying any sound that could indicate someone on the other side but-

Nothing. Silence.

“Okay” He murmured, nodding “Okay, we are going to come out, yes?”

You mumbled a reply, what? you didn't know, but it was enough to make Peeta nod again. You felt him loosen his grip on you making you react on clinging to him with all your strength, desperate to avoid the loss of contact.

“Hey, I’m here, I won't leave you” He assured you, hands pushing you by the hips to create some space between the two- and you were so completely weak, barely registering your body at all, that you couldn't avoid the separation. 

You frowned, opening your mouth to try and object, when you were suddenly being lifted from the ground and up on his arms again, this time in bridal style, with one of his arms holding under your knees as the other secured around your back. 

“Romantic” you gushed, chuckling again.

Peeta rolled his eyes, sheepish smile tugging at his lips, as he adjusted his body so his hand could twist the handle and open the door. He loosens a breath he didn't know had been holding as he registered the hall with quick assessing eyes, noticing it completely deserted.

You tried to blink at the sudden light, but it took just a couple of blinks before your eyes dropped closed again, as if the weight of them was impossible to overcome. 

“Your room is not safe” He murmured, beginning to make his way to the elevator with you tightly held on to his arms “We will go to mine.”

You nodded, the pull of unconsciousness so strong you were sure it was only a matter of seconds before you were out- so you snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms across his neck and positioning your face right at the nape of his neck, where his smell washed over you and his warmth seeped to your skin.

And just like that, you were out with a content smile plastered on your face.

[superfreakycat16]

would you consider some tfa Jazz self servicing?

you betcha anon!

Stupid Sentinel

(this fic has little to nothing to do with sentinel lol)

Jazz was sitting alone in his quarters after a lecturing from Sentinel, which for once, he actually listened to, and he was exhausted. The constant yapping and onslaught of degradation was hitting his processor at a million-miles-an-hour. He was sure Sentinel didn’t even take vent in between his insults.

Jazz lay back on his berth with a groan, draping his arm over his visor, what was wrong with him? He usually could just, brush it off and go on with his day like nothing happened, but he just… couldn’t. Sentinel was annoying, and germaphobic, and scrutinizing, and crude, and- whatever, but he was hardly wrong…

A joor passed as he lay on his berth, the minutes ticking by as he tried to not internalize the things Sentinel said, no wonder Jazz just ignored him most of the time. “Stupid Sentinel…” Jazz groaned, he was so tired, but he could hardly sleep. He glanced down at his codpiece and hovered a servo over it, thinking that, maybe a stress-reliever could help…

The panel shifted away and his spike rested in his servo, slowly pressurizing before he gave it a few quick pumps, speeding up the process. A small bead of lubricant was already forming when he started to move his servo, biting back a quiet whine.

The small movements slowly turned into long strokes, moving up and down the spike, spreading lubricant all over the length. His steady vents faltered into uneven pants, denta bared making his whines come out as hisses. “S-slag…” The movements grew more frantic as he spread his legs, reaching a servo to his valve plating, lubricants dribbling onto his wrist as he snapped it open. He needed more.

He never considered himself a valve mech, but there was a certain nagging in the back of his processor, which didn’t happen often. He shook it off and slowly started to massage the soft mesh, unable to repress the loud whine that escaped his vocalizer and all movements to halt. That was new. “Mhn- okay… just breathe Jazz… deep vents…”

He started to stroke his spike again while dipping a digit into his valve, slowly becoming more wet as he prodded the sensitive calipers. “Hgn!” Jazz keened quietly, biting his lower lip hard. His servo pumped his spike faster, the other working at his valve, an overload coming quicker than expected, “K-h-hah!”

A shiver ran up his back-strut as he worked his servos faster, one pumping and the other thrusting, his legs kicking slightly from the stimulation. “Augn- P-Primus!” He thrusted his digits faster, curling them slightly against the sensitive mesh, his whole frame seizing with a silent cry, finally coming undone.

His valve spasmed as he shuddered almost violently, spurts of transfluid shooting onto his chassis and onto his digits still lodged deep inside. Jazz panted heavily as he slumped against the berth like a bag of stones, limp spike and overused valve retracting behind his panels, the sheets a sticky mess. He’ll have to clean them later, for now, he was too tired, optics lulling closed into an exhausted recharge.

(hope you liked it! Srry it took so long, i was unmotivated and busy, it finally stopped rotting in ma drafts :p)

[uselessmicrowave]

kinktober day nine

tfa sentinel

tws/content- public (closet), object insertion, finger biting, masochism (?), masturbation, choking, self degradation (?)

a/n- slut (affectionate)

If Sentinel doesn’t get something inside of him, he thinks he’ll explode. He’s way too warm, he’s shaking, his array is throbbing underneath his panels. Sentinel ducks into a storage closet from the hallway he was walking in.

His interface panels pop open without a needed command, he slides down from the wall onto the floor. Completely ignoring his spike, he pushes shaking digits into his valve, sliding in and out with a scissor motion.

Sentinel bites his derma to prevent a wanton moan, looking beside him for something safe he could stretch himself with. The cans and energon bottles were too flat on the top, the spray bottles were too oddly shaped. The mop was too thin and too long and he’s growing increasingly impatient.

His lubricant leaks onto the cold floor, smearing on his aft as he reaches for a replacement handle for a broom. It almost looks like a faux spike in the dark, hopefully feels like one too. It’s flared a bit at the base and has a blunt circular tip. He runs the object across his glossa before sliding it into him.

His optics widen as he gasps, he didn’t expect for it to reach his ceiling node. He gives a long, loud whimper, silently hoping that no one was in the hallway.

How disgusted would the bot be if they saw Sentinel like this, using a replacement handle to self service? He rocks his hips side to side, massaging the node placed deep in him, scrunching his faceplates in pleasure and choking out his groans.

He grabs hold to the end of the handle, thrusting his hips up to chase that too-much feeling. He shoves digits into his intake, effectively quieting his moans.

Sentinel’s array throbs, an overload building in his circuits makes him grow tight on the handle, biting his digits to silence himself. It makes his servo hurt, but it’s better than being caught like this.

He tilts the handle vertically as much as his anatomy lets him, making the grip texture on it slides against his exterior node, through his folds. The tip rams into the lower part of his ceiling node, he pushes the digits in his intake towards his fuel seal. The almost-touch of his digits in his neck cables forces him to choke, effectively dampening the strong urge to moan until his vocalizer gave out.

The prime bites down again as a wave of white hot sharpness rages to his core. Sentinel overloads with a half silenced and desperate moan, rubbing the handle back and forth pressed against his array to ride the overload out.

He slumps against the back of the small closet, optics closed and limbs now limp. He gives himself a couple kliks to catch his vents before dealing with the mess he’s left, probably everywhere. He pulls the handle out of himself, setting it in front of him.

Messy. Messy fragging mech. He got transfluid all over the stupid fragging door, dammit. He blushes, embarrassed. He pulls a soft cloth from his subspace, cleaning up any transfluid or lubricant that was left on his spike, valve or aft.

Kneeling now, he rummages through a clean up cart, pulling out a handful of disposable towels and wiping away his fluids from the ground first. He sighs cleaning up the door, then wiping his lubricant off the handle.

Sentinel huffs as he sits back down, rubbing the inside of his thighs. They’ll be sore the next solar cycle, but it was definitely worth it.

[anon-e-miss]

Bearing the Broad - 4

Prowl’s peds hardly ever touched the ground. When he walked, it was only on the softest carpet as he made his way to the bath. The paint did not wash away, not from his peds, not from his face, arms, thighs and belly. It would remain until it wore off and if Jazz’s behaviour was any signal, the paint would still be there when Prowl entered emergence. The oils the Prince massaged into his plating every mega-cycle only helped it last. They also helped his sentio-metallico stretch as his forge extended. It was growing so quickly. By the time he gave emergence, Prowl would be far rounder than he was tall. No one seemed to be concerned for his fitness, it was strange that Polyhexian culture had developed in such a way that the far smaller partner carried. Prowl knew that it was Seekerkin and not Seekers that carried in Vos.

Though the coronation would not take place until a stellar-cycle of mourning took place for the old king, Jazz had become king immediately upon Straxus’ death and he had immediately gone to work.  Polyhex, Prowl realized had been poorly managed by the old king who had squanders its resources and emptied its coffers. This was why Jazz had gone through the effort of employing Prowl’s services. Only a member of the royal family with an heir in the cradle or in the forge could be crowned. None had fit that bill until Jazz had paid Prowl to kindle and carry for him. His cousins had tried very hard with a number of lovers but none had ensparked. Jazz did not care of his wastrel cousins and feared what ruin they could bring Polyhex. Prowl did not know how true his fears were but he could at least confirm for himself that Jazz was pouring his all into rebuilding the nation’s resources and pride.

Prowl sat as fount every mega-cycle. These poor mechanisms were so starved new originators could not produce the energon their bitlets needed to survive. Whether it was the fuel he consumed or the environment, Prowl’s wells never trained so long as he sat with Jazz, the pump the temple to Primaprovided forever sucked energon from his nozzles, no matter how long he sat in service for. The priests said his was foster origin to the entire district as every bitlet and sparkling fuelled from his wells. How one mech, even one with his supply could do that made no sense to Prowl? It was Punch who explained it.

“Prima works through ya when ya sit on her throne,” Punch explained.

All Cybertronian life had begun in Prima’s forge, according to the beliefs of Polyhex. Prowl moaned as he saw himself in her image. She sat in the lap of Primus, King of the Gods, and progenitor of all nations. His spike filled her as she, so much smaller than her king, sat in his lap, her legs held up behind her knees. Jazz mirrored this pose as he was painted by the court painter. Went through the expected motions, speaking with his court. His cousins had their supporters and they were not so agreeable. Prowl found himself lifted of Jazz’s spike and held there on display, his gaping valve drooling lubricants. His optics bugged out as Jazz perched his tight aft on his hard spike. He brought no force to bear but allowed gravity to open Prowl’s aft on his spike.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Prowl cried as gravity slowly pulled his aft down on the giant’s massive spike.  His little hole was cleaved apart. Chained to his belt, Prowl’s plugged spike twitched and his ruined valve oozed a torrent of lubricants.

Jazz held one of his legs up under the kneed as he fragged Prowl’s aching, empty valve with his digits. Prowl mewled as those digits stimulated his gamma cluster and made his valve gush as his afthole was destroyed by the giant’s spike. His wells grew firm as they engorged and Jazz pulled the clamps off his nozzles which immediately started to leak. Before the entire court, Prowl was debauched. It cowed them, somehow, though it would surely only be temporary. Runamuck and Runabout were Straxus’ natural creations and even though the throne did not pass in such a manner, they felt entitled to it by being his first emerged. Jazz would have to prove himself a worthy king at every step to ensure he had support should they wage a rebellion.

Prowl drank pressed energon as he sat impaled on Jazz’s hard spike. His aft throbbed around the plug that prevented the transfluids Jazz had spilled in him did not leak out. It was a huge plug, carved from a rare gem. It only made him feel fuller as his valve twitched around the giant’s monster spike. His belly bulged out well passed his knees. It was not only Prima working through him when he sat as fount but Primus working through Jazz. The newsparks in his forge were growing quickly, far more quickly than the normally would have. Jazz had booked him for two contracts. How loose would his belly, wells and holes be when the Prince was done?

“What about there?” Prowl pointed at the map. Jazz was searching for the site of an ancient aquifer that could hopefully be renewed and resolve all of Polyhex’s fuel shortage problems. The topography he had noticed looked to be close to an ancient underground river.

“Check there first,” Jazz ordered.

“But…” the engineers looked down at Prowl, so small and debauched in their king’s lap.

“My future queen is brilliant,” Jazz declared and Prowl flushed as the lie continued. “’N singularly blessed by Prima and Primus together. Check there first.”

The aquifer was found where Prowl had suspected it might be, blocked only by an old rock fall, restoring it took an orn, rather than vorns. Jazz stood by an ancient waterfall, just above what had once been a lush garden. He was posed as Primus with Prowl as Prima skewered on his spike and his huge, firm belly on display. The sounds of the river restored roared in Prowl’s audios and he overloaded with a cry as the waterfall was reborn. One by one the hanging pools filled, promising the rebirth of the long dry gardens. All those who gathered bowed and sang blessings.

“Long Live the King. Long Live the Queen. Long Live the Queen!”

“But I am not queen,” Prowl argued later as Jazz massaged oil into his belly. Prowl could not even wrap his arms around it anymore. There was no question he had kindled giant newsparks.

“No reason ya can’t be,” Jazz replied.

“There are many,” Prowl countered. “Namely, you contracted me to carry. You did not court and conjunx me.”

“I can court ya now,” Jazz offered and Prowl flushed. “To their thinkin’ I put bitties in yer forge so I conjunxed ya. Things are different in Polyhex , Prowl.”

“Were you ever planning to return me to Praxus?” Prowl asked. “Or was it easier to pay for my forge rather than find a consort you actually wanted?”

“What makes ya think I don’t want ya, Prowl?” Jazz asked. “I had every intention o’ returnin’ ya home ‘n I have every intention o’ doin’ just that if it’s what ya’d rather.”

“Clients are not meant to fall for surrogates,” Prowl argued, a little distressed by all the new developments falling onto him at once. They had found five newsparks when they had scanned his forge, giants and little bitlets growing together and all growing in line with their spark’s code.

“I don’t know how any o’ yers didn’t,” Jazz said. “Y’re perfect.”

“Oh…” Prowl murmured.

“Don’t ya like doin’ more than forgin’?” Jazz asked. “Don’t ya like usin’ yer processor advisin’ me?”

“I do,” Prowl replied. “They do not like you listening to me.”

“They don’t matter,” Jazz argued. “The citizens think ya embody Prima. They’d despair to see ya go.”

“They do not need me the same way as they did,” Prowl countered. “Now that the pools have refilled and the gardens are coming back to life.”

“The line at the temple ain’t any shorter now than it was,” Jazz replied. “Yer energon is more pure than anythin’ from a river. Prima blesses ya ‘n ‘em as ya sit as faunt. There’ll always be mecha that need ya for this.”

“I can try being your queen,” Prowl said. “For however long this whim lasts.”

[charlotteswebbbbb]

What's the vibe? #87

Hi hello.

Airbnb now want to become an everything app.

Their first launch categories for Airbnb Services are: Chefs, Photography, Massage, Spa treatments, Personal training, Hair, Makeup, Nails, Prepared meals, Catering.

I don't think people will be into it as the revival of the hotel has been quite strong, alongside the fact that subletting insta pages have become huge amongst the young. I think they're fighting the formal and informal markets by offering new services.

Last week was the week of the nepo baby. Or the past few weeks at least. As we looked at Amelia Grey's Met Gala fit, former sustainability writer Alec Leach wrote about the nepo baby economy...

"The nepo baby phenomenon is what happens when social mobility tightens, or just disappears altogether — it’s not about this or that actor being an entitled shithead who doesn’t know how lucky they have it (although they might be!). It’s about the framework of our economies and how they open so many doors for the rich and well-connected, and slam them shut for almost everyone else. It all comes down to the boring, unsexy ways politics shapes our lives — it’s the laws and tax codes that concentrate wealth at the top of society, and the unregulated property markets that push home ownership further and further out of reach."

Cool Girl of the moment: Pinkpantheress - her album Fancy That was released on the 9th May 2025. Her website right now also has a great customiser game.

This week is the week of Cannes banning nude fits, just as the festival starts. Here's my list of films to look out for at Cannes and beyond:

It Was Just An Accident - Dir. Jafar Panahi

My Father’s Shadow - Dir. Akinola Davies Jr

Eddington - Dir. Ari Aster

Urchin - Dir. Harris Dickinson

Alpha - Dir. Julia Ducournau

Highest 2 Lowest - Dir. Spike Lee

The Phoenician Scheme - Dir. Wes Anderson (only saying because he has his retrospective at the Design Museum this year!)

And here's the bets on who may win the Palme (from Paddy Power)

Cannes can also tell you who may win Oscars...

Politics Special:

New Pope. New American pope. New American pope who is from Chicago, wants the wars to end, and is against AI.

Aside from that, the UK is right now, more than ever obsessed with immigration. To the point where it feels like the leader of the Labour Party and Prime Minister on releasing his new Immigration White Paper, wants to be as extreme than the Reform Party.

Yes, if there was 1600 council seats and a fringe party took 600, I too would be terrified but I feel like they need to deliver something groundbreaking. Some suggestions: A upgrade on the transport systems of the North, a tram in Manchester, new proven council homes built by the next election, new jobs schemes, more money for the arts, a working NHS, allowing people to upskill easily with a fund, a true understanding of technology, the risks and what good can be done.

Keir Starmer has a pretty good relationship with Macron (France), Zelenskyy (Ukraine) and Merz (Germany). And according to a YouGov study,

Yahoo News: "YouGov polling commissioned by pro-EU campaign group Best for Britain has indicated the British public would back this, with 69% of those polled in favour.

The survey of 4,703 adults carried out between the end of March and start of April also found a majority, 53%, backed alignment on animal and plant standards, whereas only 21% were opposed.

Voters also back a youth mobility scheme, the polling suggested, with 63% in favour and 17% opposed."

I don't think we're getting that EU youth mobility scheme any time soon just on the energy of "Island of Strangers". It feels like they don't want to create any opportunity for British youth to easily make money/a life/career elsewhere even through our US deal (which isn't really a full deal and focused on "cars, steel and agriculture"). They're turning the sign on the door to CLOSED.

Labour are spiritually homeless right now - there's no clear direction on the ship and going rightward to spite your new competition is a bad idea. What's their USP at this point? A traditional workers party, working against workers, not offering radical and fast enough change to make material difference to people's lives. Difficult to follow after 10+ years of the Conservatives but it feels like more of the same.......

Foreign Travel spending to decrease in the US by 7% this year according to Reuters.

"Of 184 countries, the U.S. is the only one that's seeing an absolute decline in international visitor spending," Simpson said. "The U.S. is definitely losing its crown in this area."

The U.S. is the largest travel and tourism economy globally, she said. However, international visitor spending in the country is projected to fall under $169 billion this year, down from $181 billion in 2024 and 22% below its previous peak in 2019.

A strong dollar, which makes U.S. vacations more expensive, caused a decline in foreign travel spending in the country in 2024, Simpson said, but now politics and worries about crossing the border were also weighing on U.S. visitation figures."

Tariffs babe, the tariffs

The war on Christmas has begun early and the toymakers are not happy. This Economist article lays out the fears of Mattel and Hasbro who have their toys made in China due to expertise (and cost).

"Around 80% of toys sold in America are made in China, the main target in Mr Trump’s trade war. Levies of 145% on Chinese goods are clobbering an industry specialised in churning out cheap delights for children, often at low margins. Parents may be willing to spend $15 on a Care Bear (cut, sewn and filled in China), even if it is played with only once. At $36, though, they may tell sellers to get stuffed."

Sustainability:

In sustainability, Goodwill, the secondhand store in the US is doing curated selection to help Cowboy Carter fans get their pieces. This is a great way to encourage people that have never been in before to be sustainable and change their habits.

"Beyoncé is bringing her Cowboy Carter energy to Atlanta this summer—and Goodwill of North Georgia is joining the celebration with a western-inspired shopping experience fans won’t want to miss.

Beginning May 9, select Goodwill locations across metro Atlanta will debut "Cowboy Goodwill," a limited-time fashion event inspired by Beyoncé’s latest album and tour. Each featured store section will showcase curated western wear, including fringe, rhinestones, bold hats, denim, and glam-ready pieces—all affordably priced and sustainably sourced."

Vinted is now the number one seller of clothing in France. Behind is Amazon and Kiabi (which I guess would be similar to Primark).

"It appears that buying second-hand clothing (in store and online) is anchored in the habits of the French since they represent 10.9% of clothing purchases in value, and even 16.3% among 18-34 year olds, "revealing a structural evolution of the market carried by the younger generations," supports Gildas Minvielle, the director of the economic observatory of the IFM."

Retail Happenings:

Skims are coming to London next summer (2026) - The brand has signed a 10-year lease at 245-247 Regent Street, according to WWD.

Oakley opened their new store in Milan and ngl, this is the brand for cool kids!!!

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A post shared by Oakley (@oakley)

Did you guys know Antenne Books have an Editorial section on their website interviewing people?

Valentino are creating a listening space in their NY Madison Avenue store called L’Atelier Sonore. Made in collaboration with the Italian collective Terraforma, it is designed for a relaxing sound experience on the mezzanine floor. Open until the end of August, every day from 10 AM to 6 PM, the brand will be playing playlists curated by Terraforma and other collaborators of the maison.

Links I care about this week:

This really cool post by Soft Services celebrating 4 years of their brand.

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A post shared by Soft Services (@softservices)

I really liked this video even though I was really shocked to hear Tuba Avalon say the 1er arr. is the best arrondissement like... are you bo-bo? The most interesting bit for me is the sustainability collection on the 8th floor of Printemps (around 13:00) which has the pieces and the photos of it on the runway. It reminded me of something Rian Phin was talking about on Twitter a few weeks back about wanting to buy from someone's highly curated store and when they did they had a photo of what show the piece came from. It adds context, can spur off a research moment for a buyer. Imagination expansion.

Chanel roundtable - we're already seeing what kind of Chanel Matthieu wants to create and curate. Kung Foo Kenny + these ladies is going to be interesting. It's the stylish party.

Offline clubs anyone? Maybe a cafe where you lock up your phone? Offline retreats in France?

And then this piece on NSS (sorry, they had a lot of interesting stuff on there) on the meaning of rituals today and why they matter. It links to the developing spirituality thing that's going on where younger generations are becoming more spiritual.

*A NYT article on dance music which I guess pulls all the threads together on its resurgence coming after pop's peaks. It talks also about money and where it goes and where it comes from, social media and what it's changed for DJs old and new.

This piece relates to another by NSS on the topic of the cheapest. places to party in Europe. The article leads on the idea of nocturism (nocturnal tourism) rising in general, and when searched for these came up.

This opens up a whole opportunity for many sectors - the first thought about are obviously clubbing, but also dining, shopping, in regards to the NatGeo article safari visits during the night. The NSS article then goes on to talk about it's top 10 interesting places a

Prague

Plodiv, Bulgaria - small city, 16 venues but intimate, incl Kapana Fest

Madrid

Budapest

Zagreb, Croatia

Things I want to see:

Julio Torres' new live show (apparently there was a London date???)

Last Days, the opera loosely based on the last days of Kurt Cobain is coming back to the Royal Opera House in Nov/Dec.

[zimwy]

the winter soldier does not feel or experience fear when in the field. it has never been afraid of any adversary, any target, any mission; the closest thing it has ever felt are adrenaline spikes in response to a rapidly fluctuating or dangerous situation. (it does not want to die, in the end.) it's different in the red room. it doesn't fear its handlers, per-se, but it is afraid of what can and will be done to it.

bucky isn't easy to spar with. training is one thing--showing you how to do something comes with tenure and experience and patience--but sparring? he has a habit, or perhaps a desire, to go for the proverbial throat. it is sincerely difficult for bucky not to muscle-memory his way into fatal wounds.

has 'self care days' he does exclusively with natasha, as shes the only person who can coax him into them. mani-pedis and massages and mutual exercise, etc.

enjoys the physicality of cleaning when he isn't in a horrible depressive slump.

kind of a wife. likes to service his partner where he can (cooking, cleaning, handling tasks, etc). doesn't need to do these things to feel happy or loved in the relationship, of course, but it does make him feel useful, which he deeply values.

canonically a 'skin tight black briefs' guy. i like to think theyre silk.

[mini-and-mighty]

4 things you can do to feel better physically- fast, easy, and (mostly) free.

As your Friendly Neighborhood Personal Trainer, I know full well just how difficult it is to keep up with physical health. There are a lot of different factors and limitations (financial, time, spoons, disability, etc) that affect how we take care of ourselves.

It can also be super expensive. I fully believe in the value of the service I provide, (and I also need to pay rent) but I recognize that having a personal trainer or coach is a luxury. So I thought I'd share four things you can do every day to improve your physical health. They're simple, scientifically backed, and have little to no cost.

DISCLAIMER: I am a certified personal trainer, not a medical doctor or registered dietician. While I do a ton of research, reccomend all of these things to my clients, and do them myself-- there is no substitute for the advice of your primary care provider. Please please please take the time to critically examine any health advice you find online.

Sound good? Alrighty, here goes.

#1: Hydrate (no seriously)

Yes, I'm starting off with something super generic, but I cannot emphasize enough how much your hydration levels impact your body.

When you're dehydrated, blood thickens, so your heart has to work harder to pump blood through your system. You end up using more energy to do the same task.

More importantly, hydration is critical for brain function. One study using driving simulators found that being mildly dehydrated can have the same effect on cognition as being mildly intoxicated.

The only liquid that dehydrates you is alcohol. Obviously water is ideal, but getting any fluid into your system helps. Bonus points if you include electrolytes, as they help maintain the balance of fluid throughout our tissues. (Liquid IV, gatorade, and coconut water are all easy options.)

#2: Eat fruit

Fruit is a nutritional powerhouse. You've got fiber, antioxidents, vitamins, and fructose.

Fructose is a type of sugar, make no mistake. But your brain needs sugar, to the point where we even have a fancy process called "gluconeogenesis" to make more to feed our cells.

Fructose is amazing though. It's lower on the glycemic index than sucrose or glucose, making it a good choice for those that have to watch their blood sugar levels more closely. It's slower digesting which when paired with the fiber in fruit that also slows digestion, you don't get crazy energy spikes or crashes.

It's also hydrating! Fruit makes a great snack thanks to this combo of hydration and the natural energy boost from the fructose.

#3: Stretch

Yes, also generic as hell, but also very very important. If you want to be able to get up and down from the floor easily, reach for things on high shelves, or do your favorite forms of physical activity for a long time-- you need to stretch regularly.

Our muscles, bones, and joints are covered with layers of supportive connective tissue called fascia. When we're sedentary (because of occupation, pregnancy, injury, disability, depression etc) then that web of tissue gets tangled and almost matted. It can tangle so much that it actually becomes painful to move. Which, of course, makes the problem worse.

Anything is better than nothing, but stretching your joints a little and often will be more sustainable than trying to jump into an hour long yoga class. There are tons of free videos on youtube by certified instructors, including ones made for people with mobility issues.

For bonus points- spend some time doing inversions, or having your head upside down. This helps with the next thing.

#4: Massage

Sounds weird, but trust me.

Like our circulatory system, our lymphatic system helps remove waste from tissues. But the lymphatic system doesn't have a pump to help move the lymphatic fluid like blood is pumped through our veins.

There's lots of ways to help the lymphatic system- hot/cold therapy and physical activity are some of the easiest. (Inversions, like in yoga, are super helpful for getting lymph to move against gravity)

But massage, dry brushing, or acupressure are all great for the lymphatic system and can be done even if you're exhausted, out of spoons, or have limited mobility. Roll a tennis ball firmly along your major muscles and joints to help improve circulation, stimulate lymphatic flow, and work out some of that fascia I mentioned earlier. For an increased effect, use one of those dog toys with the textured surface. Might feel silly, but it works.

There you go! Four ways to help you make keeping up with your physical health a little less overwhelming and complicated.

Just remember that you're a skeleton trapped inside a meat suit and you deserve to be respected, loved, and enjoy life regardless of how your body looks, what it can do, or how much profit it can make for someone else.

[whattheabcxyz]

2025-07-12

Education

Singapore: Undergrads fight for membership in campus finance clubs, thinking it will bag them a coveted banking job

Academic paper submitted by NUS researchers removed after being found to contain hidden AI prompt that would generate only positive reviews

Science

^ Humans don't age gradually, but in bursts

Singapore

Government to launch new grant for companies & expand support for workers amid US tariff uncertainties

LTA says >150 e-bikes & other non-compliant mobility devices impounded in last 2 months

Controversial samsui woman mural now fitted with anti-smoking advisory - 🙄

4 women arrested in Yishun for allegedly offering sexual services disguised as massages

Maritime

Spike in piracy & armed robbery cases in straits of Malacca & Singapore in 1st half of 2025

[chaos-dumpster-fire]

WAIT HEHEHE IM ALLOWEEDDDD TO THINK ABT AVERY PERVERSIONS??? .:-DD folding my hands 2gether... any prerequisite knowledge i should know ...... <- like how he likes being treated, things that squick him out, etccc anything u think would be Necessary Info for his perversions .:3

*maniacal grin as I finally get to hand this off to one of the few people I would trust on this one*

I will have to disappoint you right away in that Avery's got a lot of boundaries but-

This is mostly Before-avery, juggling sensory issues, hyperactivity, and very strong RSD with a general like of fixing problems and knowing there's a clear way to make someone else feel good. Most frequently found as a service top or a kinda-mean dom that really wants to do 100 check-ins before and after. Vers and a switch overall, but usually takes on the role that allows him to be more active. Prefers to have control but will give it up if he trusts the other party(/ies). Can be a little bit of a brat or a sorta teasing dominant, but moreso in a 'loveable mischief' way than actual misbehavior.

General: Likes getting kissed on his chest and belly. There's some randomly sensitive spots there and he'll gasp. Honestly when there's not a major scene, he likes laughter in sex. Likes hickies and getting bit a little, generally a tactile person. Won't cling to someone if they're uncomfortable and tries not to push, but really likes holding/being held. Needs to be able to fidget or move around a little bit. Doesn't like being called specifically a 'good boy' in English, but will take equivalents in other languages. Hands sometimes cramp up, likes giving head and likes receiving, ambivalent to full-size penetration either giving or receiving, but probably not inherently opposed to the concept. Gets nonverbal if hitting subspace sufficiently hard (not frequent, but happens), kinda into spit/drool if he's that far gone? Sex and kink aside, will never say no to a hand or back massage. One nipple pierced (barbell)

Kinks (Giving):

Down for any kind of dirty-talk (praise, degradation, dehumanization, asmr) as long as there is the understanding that his accent isn't going anywhere. Bondage, frotting, dry humping, mild exhibitionism, orgasm control all good. Impact play good, will make other party fill out a whole checklist. Willing to do knifeplay but first-aid kit is mandatory no matter how much/little happens. Boot kink, just a little. Sensory deprivation, CNC-adjacent, Taking explicit photos of partner, shibari, also good. Willing to play w/orgasm control in any direciton

Kinks (Receiving):

Big Likes: Praise/Compliments - can be insulting/condescending/dehumanizing (these are positives if mixed in well)(do it right and he'll lose complete control). Collars - Prefers thicker band ones, likes this in a kink way, sex way, generally collars look cool way. Impact play - Bruises good, cuts good, most things short of spiked paddles good. Orgasm control/delay - yes, not mandatory but likes trying to hold off juuuuust a little.

YMMV but Likes: Degradation - Can get into degradation if there's praise mixed in or as part of scene aftermath. Combining with praise is a really good move and raises the odds of this working well significantly. Bondage - Picky about this one. Prefers cuffs and rope but there needs to be room to fidget. Collars are good, but leashes are only good if they don't get yanked. Major soft spot for rope harnesses and patterns that don't actually restrict movement, just keep him very aware of their presence as he's doing something. Choking - ok breathplay in theory? Fun. In practice? Sometimes fun, sometimes stops being sexy and starts being 'was that my trachea'. Somno - Do i gotta explain why the guy with control issues has varying levels of good reaction to being taken advantage of while asleep. Leather - Gloves yes, vests/jackets/boots yes, accessories yes, pants no. Exhibition - yes in public sex spaces or in a 'we're far away from anyone but theoretically', doesn't actually want to do it anywhere near places where it'll be an issue. Overstim - 90% good, slight risk of becoming the not-sexy kind of overstim. Mirrors - ok I just don't think he's done this one enough to like it, but could potentially be into it.

Ehhhh: Fluid kinks except spit, tears, and/or sweat - He worries a lot about infections. Will do it for someone with whom there's been a lot of conversation, but it's not as fun of a thing, and he's not gonna be on the receiving end. Sensory deprivation - High risk of paranoia, has caused panic attacks. Cnc/rapeplay - Again, paranoia issues. This one gets a lot worse w/Reno around bc Avery counts murder as essentially rape in this particular case (esp with how Reno treats being killed and has a kink for guns), and is uncomfortable but can't fully express why he feels like its his boundaries being violated here. tbqh im not sure he really likes cnc so much as the idea of getting to fight before/during sex. Not willing to call someone 'daddy' or 'mommy', really hates those words specifically, will negotiate terms on a case-by-case basis. Breeding - just not into it as a concept, indifferent otherwise.

Hardstop no: Misgendering, vomit, needles, feminization (Note: will wear a skirt or makeup if asked and in mood. Will not be called a girl.). No living furniture kinks, slave-master dynamics, or anything that requires him to remain still/force himself to not talk. Doesn't like teacher-student kink, being called a boy (doesn't mind 'kid' as much, but less so in agere ways and more in the 'you don't respect me enough to see me as an equal' ways).

Ok im gonna wrap this up bc it's been over an hour and i need to sleep

Edit:

here, 2 other little posts about this prior

[cleverhottubmiracle]

“It’s feeling a lot like 2008,” said Christy Powers, who’s worked through three economic downturns since 1999. Operating out of Frederick, Maryland, a commuter-train ride from Washington, Powers said more and more of her clients — especially the large swath of federal workers — are “coming in telling me how stressed they are.” Others are halting services altogether to save cash.Is Powers a financial planner? A real estate agent? Nope: She’s a massage therapist, and she and her service-industry colleagues working in beauty, hair and personal care have been witnessing firsthand some of the earliest possible signs the US is tumbling into recession.Powers was one of more than 32,000 spa technicians, hairstylists, colourists and makeup artists who recently streamed to New York’s West Side to attend a three-day trade show for professionals with one shared mission: making clients look and feel good. That gives them an intimate, up-to-date perspective on the mood of the American consumer, and what they’re seeing is ugly.Stylists from Manhattan to rural New Hampshire are seeing regular clients start to skip cuts and blowouts. In from the Maine town of Brewer, hairstylist Alyssa Dow said customers are choosing cheaper, “more low-maintenance” looks — and tipping less. In affluent Longmeadow, Massachusetts, where “people don’t like to walk around with roots” showing, clients who previously got colour every two or three weeks are stretching it to four or five, citing the “political situation” and implying they’ve lost money in the stock market, said Michelle LaValley. “They’re cutting back in other areas as well, so it’s not just us,” said the salon owner, who has 28 years in the business. The wider pullback in spending seems to go beyond the general grumpiness that accompanied the so-called vibecession that started years ago when inflation rose, interest rates spiked and yet the US kept growing.Longtime clients are “spending less because of the economy,” said Cynthia Almonor, an aesthetician with 15 years of experience in Brooklyn. “I’ve been eliminated from their budget.” It echoes 2009, when the media dubbed a do-it-yourself styling phenomenon “recession hair.”Whether this is the opening scene of a full-blown recession, though, we won’t know definitively for months. That’s because official economic data can take forever to reflect reality, especially if conditions are changing rapidly. When the National Bureau of Economic Research made the Great Recession official in December 2008, its Business Cycle Dating Committee recognised the US economy had actually been contracting for an entire year. That’s where nontraditional indicators like visits to nail salons or barbershops can come in handy. “The first thing people are going to give up is their massage,” said Brian McGee, president of Phoenix-based beauty-industry consulting firm BAM Navigation LLC.To be sure, not everyone was reporting a pullback on the sidelines of the New York International Beauty Show and accompanying International Esthetics, Cosmetics & Spa Conference in late March. Hundreds of vendors were eagerly and optimistically promoting thousands of products, and attendance was up 6 percent from last year, according to organiser Questex. “I’m pretty much busy all the time” with clients, including many doctors and lawyers, who seem insulated from any downturn, said Elizabeth Ehrgood, an aesthetician in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Alex Romero, a barber in Hamilton, New Jersey, hadn’t seen a drop-off either: “People are still trying to feel good in uncertain times.”Those times got even more uncertain in the weeks after the show, when President Donald Trump’s on-again, off-again plans for tariffs caused chaos in financial markets. Beyond any cut to household discretionary spending that the stock market mayhem might kick off, the tariffs also threaten to raise operating costs at salons and spas. The lifeblood of the beauty industry comes from oils, lotions, creams and gels with dozens of ingredients sourced from all over the world. Some chemicals, as well as packaging materials, are really only available in China, McGee said. Trump’s latest tariffs peg China duties at 145 percent. “People right now are blissfully unaware of the impacts this is going to have on their business,” he said, noting it can take as long as six months for tariffs to fully “hit the marketplace.”Worried about a slowdown in her company’s direct-to-consumer business, Akua Okunseinde, chief creative officer at New Jersey-based Karité, set up a booth in the convention hall hoping to diversify revenue by also selling to spas. Karité’s main product, a shea butter cream sourced from Ghana, comes in a jar with a distinctive bamboo top imported from China. “It’s hard to think about moving away from that,” she said.The good news for the industry is that profit margins on its products can be large, something you can’t say for every category that’s vulnerable to tariffs. “There’s a good markup in our industry,” said Allan Share, president of the Spa Industry Association, a trade organisation. Derme&Co., a Canada-based maker of skin-care products whose booth occupied a prominent spot at the spa show, has stockpiled twice the typical inventory in its US facility in case of tariffs, according to its president and chief executive officer, Amir Hussein. “But if you ask me are we going to increase our prices? No, we’ll probably absorb it,” he said.Another source of optimism is the affluence of the industry’s core clientele. As costs have risen, many high-end spas have “raised prices two, three, four times over the last few years,” Share said, and customers “don’t seem to be bothered by it at all.”But middle- and lower-income customers might be. Well before the tariff threat, some clients were already losing patience with higher prices, said Sydney Jackson-Green, who’s studying cosmetology in Springfield, Pennsylvania. She had to raise fees because of “outrageous prices” on products, and she finds even a $12 to $20 increase can be prohibitive for her typical twenty-something client. To save money, some customers are trying to color their own hair. At least that brings in business: After they try and fail to do it on their own, they pay Jackson-Green to fix their “home disasters.”By Ben StevermanLearn more:What a US Recession Would Mean for the Global Fashion IndustryEconomists raised the likelihood of a recession in the US, Canada and Mexico this week as Trump’s tariffs rattled global markets, exposing the fashion industry to uncertainty and possible deceleration. Source link

[norajworld]

“It’s feeling a lot like 2008,” said Christy Powers, who’s worked through three economic downturns since 1999. Operating out of Frederick, Maryland, a commuter-train ride from Washington, Powers said more and more of her clients — especially the large swath of federal workers — are “coming in telling me how stressed they are.” Others are halting services altogether to save cash.Is Powers a financial planner? A real estate agent? Nope: She’s a massage therapist, and she and her service-industry colleagues working in beauty, hair and personal care have been witnessing firsthand some of the earliest possible signs the US is tumbling into recession.Powers was one of more than 32,000 spa technicians, hairstylists, colourists and makeup artists who recently streamed to New York’s West Side to attend a three-day trade show for professionals with one shared mission: making clients look and feel good. That gives them an intimate, up-to-date perspective on the mood of the American consumer, and what they’re seeing is ugly.Stylists from Manhattan to rural New Hampshire are seeing regular clients start to skip cuts and blowouts. In from the Maine town of Brewer, hairstylist Alyssa Dow said customers are choosing cheaper, “more low-maintenance” looks — and tipping less. In affluent Longmeadow, Massachusetts, where “people don’t like to walk around with roots” showing, clients who previously got colour every two or three weeks are stretching it to four or five, citing the “political situation” and implying they’ve lost money in the stock market, said Michelle LaValley. “They’re cutting back in other areas as well, so it’s not just us,” said the salon owner, who has 28 years in the business. The wider pullback in spending seems to go beyond the general grumpiness that accompanied the so-called vibecession that started years ago when inflation rose, interest rates spiked and yet the US kept growing.Longtime clients are “spending less because of the economy,” said Cynthia Almonor, an aesthetician with 15 years of experience in Brooklyn. “I’ve been eliminated from their budget.” It echoes 2009, when the media dubbed a do-it-yourself styling phenomenon “recession hair.”Whether this is the opening scene of a full-blown recession, though, we won’t know definitively for months. That’s because official economic data can take forever to reflect reality, especially if conditions are changing rapidly. When the National Bureau of Economic Research made the Great Recession official in December 2008, its Business Cycle Dating Committee recognised the US economy had actually been contracting for an entire year. That’s where nontraditional indicators like visits to nail salons or barbershops can come in handy. “The first thing people are going to give up is their massage,” said Brian McGee, president of Phoenix-based beauty-industry consulting firm BAM Navigation LLC.To be sure, not everyone was reporting a pullback on the sidelines of the New York International Beauty Show and accompanying International Esthetics, Cosmetics & Spa Conference in late March. Hundreds of vendors were eagerly and optimistically promoting thousands of products, and attendance was up 6 percent from last year, according to organiser Questex. “I’m pretty much busy all the time” with clients, including many doctors and lawyers, who seem insulated from any downturn, said Elizabeth Ehrgood, an aesthetician in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Alex Romero, a barber in Hamilton, New Jersey, hadn’t seen a drop-off either: “People are still trying to feel good in uncertain times.”Those times got even more uncertain in the weeks after the show, when President Donald Trump’s on-again, off-again plans for tariffs caused chaos in financial markets. Beyond any cut to household discretionary spending that the stock market mayhem might kick off, the tariffs also threaten to raise operating costs at salons and spas. The lifeblood of the beauty industry comes from oils, lotions, creams and gels with dozens of ingredients sourced from all over the world. Some chemicals, as well as packaging materials, are really only available in China, McGee said. Trump’s latest tariffs peg China duties at 145 percent. “People right now are blissfully unaware of the impacts this is going to have on their business,” he said, noting it can take as long as six months for tariffs to fully “hit the marketplace.”Worried about a slowdown in her company’s direct-to-consumer business, Akua Okunseinde, chief creative officer at New Jersey-based Karité, set up a booth in the convention hall hoping to diversify revenue by also selling to spas. Karité’s main product, a shea butter cream sourced from Ghana, comes in a jar with a distinctive bamboo top imported from China. “It’s hard to think about moving away from that,” she said.The good news for the industry is that profit margins on its products can be large, something you can’t say for every category that’s vulnerable to tariffs. “There’s a good markup in our industry,” said Allan Share, president of the Spa Industry Association, a trade organisation. Derme&Co., a Canada-based maker of skin-care products whose booth occupied a prominent spot at the spa show, has stockpiled twice the typical inventory in its US facility in case of tariffs, according to its president and chief executive officer, Amir Hussein. “But if you ask me are we going to increase our prices? No, we’ll probably absorb it,” he said.Another source of optimism is the affluence of the industry’s core clientele. As costs have risen, many high-end spas have “raised prices two, three, four times over the last few years,” Share said, and customers “don’t seem to be bothered by it at all.”But middle- and lower-income customers might be. Well before the tariff threat, some clients were already losing patience with higher prices, said Sydney Jackson-Green, who’s studying cosmetology in Springfield, Pennsylvania. She had to raise fees because of “outrageous prices” on products, and she finds even a $12 to $20 increase can be prohibitive for her typical twenty-something client. To save money, some customers are trying to color their own hair. At least that brings in business: After they try and fail to do it on their own, they pay Jackson-Green to fix their “home disasters.”By Ben StevermanLearn more:What a US Recession Would Mean for the Global Fashion IndustryEconomists raised the likelihood of a recession in the US, Canada and Mexico this week as Trump’s tariffs rattled global markets, exposing the fashion industry to uncertainty and possible deceleration. Source link

[chilimili212]

“It’s feeling a lot like 2008,” said Christy Powers, who’s worked through three economic downturns since 1999. Operating out of Frederick, Maryland, a commuter-train ride from Washington, Powers said more and more of her clients — especially the large swath of federal workers — are “coming in telling me how stressed they are.” Others are halting services altogether to save cash.Is Powers a financial planner? A real estate agent? Nope: She’s a massage therapist, and she and her service-industry colleagues working in beauty, hair and personal care have been witnessing firsthand some of the earliest possible signs the US is tumbling into recession.Powers was one of more than 32,000 spa technicians, hairstylists, colourists and makeup artists who recently streamed to New York’s West Side to attend a three-day trade show for professionals with one shared mission: making clients look and feel good. That gives them an intimate, up-to-date perspective on the mood of the American consumer, and what they’re seeing is ugly.Stylists from Manhattan to rural New Hampshire are seeing regular clients start to skip cuts and blowouts. In from the Maine town of Brewer, hairstylist Alyssa Dow said customers are choosing cheaper, “more low-maintenance” looks — and tipping less. In affluent Longmeadow, Massachusetts, where “people don’t like to walk around with roots” showing, clients who previously got colour every two or three weeks are stretching it to four or five, citing the “political situation” and implying they’ve lost money in the stock market, said Michelle LaValley. “They’re cutting back in other areas as well, so it’s not just us,” said the salon owner, who has 28 years in the business. The wider pullback in spending seems to go beyond the general grumpiness that accompanied the so-called vibecession that started years ago when inflation rose, interest rates spiked and yet the US kept growing.Longtime clients are “spending less because of the economy,” said Cynthia Almonor, an aesthetician with 15 years of experience in Brooklyn. “I’ve been eliminated from their budget.” It echoes 2009, when the media dubbed a do-it-yourself styling phenomenon “recession hair.”Whether this is the opening scene of a full-blown recession, though, we won’t know definitively for months. That’s because official economic data can take forever to reflect reality, especially if conditions are changing rapidly. When the National Bureau of Economic Research made the Great Recession official in December 2008, its Business Cycle Dating Committee recognised the US economy had actually been contracting for an entire year. That’s where nontraditional indicators like visits to nail salons or barbershops can come in handy. “The first thing people are going to give up is their massage,” said Brian McGee, president of Phoenix-based beauty-industry consulting firm BAM Navigation LLC.To be sure, not everyone was reporting a pullback on the sidelines of the New York International Beauty Show and accompanying International Esthetics, Cosmetics & Spa Conference in late March. Hundreds of vendors were eagerly and optimistically promoting thousands of products, and attendance was up 6 percent from last year, according to organiser Questex. “I’m pretty much busy all the time” with clients, including many doctors and lawyers, who seem insulated from any downturn, said Elizabeth Ehrgood, an aesthetician in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Alex Romero, a barber in Hamilton, New Jersey, hadn’t seen a drop-off either: “People are still trying to feel good in uncertain times.”Those times got even more uncertain in the weeks after the show, when President Donald Trump’s on-again, off-again plans for tariffs caused chaos in financial markets. Beyond any cut to household discretionary spending that the stock market mayhem might kick off, the tariffs also threaten to raise operating costs at salons and spas. The lifeblood of the beauty industry comes from oils, lotions, creams and gels with dozens of ingredients sourced from all over the world. Some chemicals, as well as packaging materials, are really only available in China, McGee said. Trump’s latest tariffs peg China duties at 145 percent. “People right now are blissfully unaware of the impacts this is going to have on their business,” he said, noting it can take as long as six months for tariffs to fully “hit the marketplace.”Worried about a slowdown in her company’s direct-to-consumer business, Akua Okunseinde, chief creative officer at New Jersey-based Karité, set up a booth in the convention hall hoping to diversify revenue by also selling to spas. Karité’s main product, a shea butter cream sourced from Ghana, comes in a jar with a distinctive bamboo top imported from China. “It’s hard to think about moving away from that,” she said.The good news for the industry is that profit margins on its products can be large, something you can’t say for every category that’s vulnerable to tariffs. “There’s a good markup in our industry,” said Allan Share, president of the Spa Industry Association, a trade organisation. Derme&Co., a Canada-based maker of skin-care products whose booth occupied a prominent spot at the spa show, has stockpiled twice the typical inventory in its US facility in case of tariffs, according to its president and chief executive officer, Amir Hussein. “But if you ask me are we going to increase our prices? No, we’ll probably absorb it,” he said.Another source of optimism is the affluence of the industry’s core clientele. As costs have risen, many high-end spas have “raised prices two, three, four times over the last few years,” Share said, and customers “don’t seem to be bothered by it at all.”But middle- and lower-income customers might be. Well before the tariff threat, some clients were already losing patience with higher prices, said Sydney Jackson-Green, who’s studying cosmetology in Springfield, Pennsylvania. She had to raise fees because of “outrageous prices” on products, and she finds even a $12 to $20 increase can be prohibitive for her typical twenty-something client. To save money, some customers are trying to color their own hair. At least that brings in business: After they try and fail to do it on their own, they pay Jackson-Green to fix their “home disasters.”By Ben StevermanLearn more:What a US Recession Would Mean for the Global Fashion IndustryEconomists raised the likelihood of a recession in the US, Canada and Mexico this week as Trump’s tariffs rattled global markets, exposing the fashion industry to uncertainty and possible deceleration. Source link

[erwinrer]

Mongolia mining success brings booming sex trade

Pimps man the park across from the historic Ulan Bator Hotel, popular with foreigners. They are keeping an eye on their employees -- about 20 women working in Mongolia's quickly expanding sex trade. "40,000 tugrik for one hour," says one young woman asked about the going rate -- the equivalent of about $30. Prostitution is illegal in Mongolia, but the sex industry is booming, due in part to the explosion of the country's mining sector, which has spawned a huge mobile workforce of men far away from home. The United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) says there are almost 19,000 sex workers in the impoverished landlocked country with a population of just 2.7 million -- or one for every 140 people. "Poverty and unemployment force women into the industry -- the government should be seriously concerned about it," Nyam Ultzii, who runs one of the few non-government organisations in Mongolia helping sex workers, told AFP. While the park in front of the Ulan Bator Hotel is a notorious public spot to trawl for sex, the trade is gradually shifting out of sight to karaoke bars, hotels, saunas and massage parlours -- putting the women at higher risk. "Because it's gone underground, we seek women in the most vulnerable places and offer services like access to medical professionals for health check-ups, or clean places to shower and wash their clothes," Ultzii said. The flourishing sex trade is having major health consequences -- inadequate medical services, limited prevention campaigns and the cultural stigma linked with prostitution have led to a rise in sexually transmitted infections.

A 2010 assessment done by personnel at Oyu Tolgoi, a huge copper deposit being developed by Canada's Ivanhoe Mines and Anglo-Australian miner Rio Tinto, identified STIs as one of five major health risks in the south Gobi desert. The rise in the number of men working at both Oyu Tolgoi and the nearby Tavan Tolgoi coal field has led to a spike in sex worker activity -- and increased risk, says Ariunna, who runs Oyu Tolgoi's community health programme. Some truck drivers en route to the Chinese border "have no money, so they sell one or two litres of diesel to the girls in exchange for sex. They've come to be known as the 'diesel girls'," said Ariunna, who like many Mongolians goes by one name. "They can't get access to health services, and because of the shame to the family, they often shy away from any help or support," she added. Nationwide, HIV -- the virus that causes AIDS -- is becoming a concern. Despite Mongolia's status as a low-prevalence nation, the infection rate has increased 17 times in the past six years to a recorded 95 cases. And officials at the National AIDS Foundation admit the real number is likely much higher. "Mongolia is a country at high risk of an accelerated HIV spread due to its relatively young population, increased mobility, proximity to growing epidemic countries such as Russia and China, and the high level of HIV-related stigma and discrimination", said local UNAIDS coordinator Altanchimeg Delegchoimbol. Mongolia is one of 49 countries and regions in the world which still have restrictions on the movements of those living with HIV/AIDS, adding to the stigma attached to admitting one's status and getting treatment.

In 2002, a young woman was murdered by her husband after a local newspaper reported she was HIV positive, according to media reports. It turned out to be a false positive. But in June at a high-level UN meeting on the topic in New York, lawmaker Dagvadorj Ochirbat said the government was "in the process of eliminating HIV-related restrictions on entry, stay and residence". Concerns about testing accuracy also remain a problem, especially in the impoverished countryside, as the health industry suffers from financial and professional deficiencies. The huge population rise in the south Gobi region sparked by the race to exploit Mongolia's vast mineral resources is testing the country's already strained medical services. In Khan Bogd, the town closest to the Oyu Tolgoi deposit, the local hospital has only 23 staff treating more than 3,000 officially registered residents, Ariunna explained. The only gynaecologist on staff is not certified. Managers at Oyu Tolgoi are working with local authorities to bolster local health services, but they say authorities at both the national and local levels need to do more. "We need support from the central government level. We're telling people to improve hygiene and use preventative measures -- but how much can we really achieve when there is no running water in hospitals?" Ariunna said.

[sexualitywithgina]

Lets Talk about Sex

By Gina Miller

Currently trends in the sex work Industry:

The 2020 Pandemic and its effects on the economy:

The COVID-19 Pandemic, shook the world in 2020 and produced catastrophic effects to the healthcare system, people’s lives and to the economies worldwide. The pandemic led to the demand for goods and services to drop due to the financial struggles experienced by many individuals, companies and bigger industries (Nationwide Economics, 2023). We can see a spike in the post-pandemic inflation status worldwide due to the ongoing and lingering effects that COVID has had on supply chains globally. 

Inflation Rates 

From 2020 to 2021 there was an 3.46% increase that made the inflation rate 4.7%. These rates continued to increase from 2021 to 2022 in the US that rose to 8.0% (World Bank, 2023). Consumers in the US are started to cut back on their expenses so that they can pay for basic needs and to get by. 92% of US consumers are spending less due to the financial stress (Madigan, 2023).

How inflation has affect the current trends within the Sex work industry and within Prostitution

The COVID-19 pandemic led to a reduction in work and income for many individuals and in specific those within the sex industry. Sex workers such as prostitutes initially saw less customers at the start of the pandemic due to the restrictions on travel and the health related concerns people had during this period (Taha, 2021). 

Sex workers were making less money and were struggling to support themselves and their families. They were struggling financially to pay for basic needs during this period and couldn’t receive government compensation either to help their financial burdens. Prostitution is considered to be a part of the informal economy and is still illegal in most places in the US (Taha, 2021)  As a result their annual incomes are not documented and contributing towards tax which makes them ineligible for compensation. 

After the initial wave of covid, the sex work industry became a more competitive market due to its demand increasing. Many people were highly stressed, terminated from their jobs or were lacking physical interaction. As a result, supply and demand increased after the initially strict restrictions that were around at the start off the pandemic. Vulnerable sex workers, such as prostitutes were forced to lower their prices to keep up the crippling economic burdens on people and to keep up with other sex workers (Taha, 2021). These workers were emotionally drained from having to adjust their prices and sexual comforts to earn enough to make living.  

Prostitutes took many risks during the pandemic, both legally and with regards to their health. They risked their safety to make ends meet and among prostitutes there was a sense of fear of their personal, work and financial situations they found themselves in. 

Prostitute work, future trends 

Sex work is the type of job that will never stop being in demand. Sex work has been around for decades and will continue to be a part of society in the future. People have needs and desires that sex workers, such as prostitutes fulfil. 

Future Trends in Legislation and why:

We can see that some parts of America are starting to recognize and acknowledge individuals in the sex work industry. Prostitution is illegal in every US State while a few counties and States have started to see a movement towards decriminalizing  prostitution. 

Currently, Nevada is the only US State where sex work is legal but regulated. In Nevada, 10/16 brothels are licensed and permitted to be open whereas other areas in Nevada prostitution is illegal. Prostitution is illegal in multiple county’s such as Clark, Washoe, Churchill as well as in Las Vegas and Reno (Nadig, B). Prostitution is still considered illegal for streetwalkers, escorts and massage parlors. These sex workers don’t meet the legal requirements as they don’t work within Nevada’s legal brothel system.  If someone is caught for being an illegal prostitute, they usually just get charged with a first Offense and a misdemeanour (Nadig, B). The max jail time sentence is 6 months but those convicted are often given probation. 

Another State that has started to question the legal aspects of sex work is Oregon. Oregon has made sex for a fee,  a Class A misdemeanour (Siefman Law LLC). With that, the criminalization of prostitution has been revoked. While in Maine, a recent bill was introduced  to partially decriminalize prostitution. Partial decriminalization still allows for those who participate in sex work to face legal repercussions (Rodriguez, B).

I believe that the US are going to follow the direction of other countries in the world where prostitution is legal such as Australia, New Zeeland, Turkey, Greece, France etc. Decriminalizing sex work and prostitution firstly establishes a sense of respect for one’s dignity and human rights (Open Society Foundation). Sex work is still work, and those within this industry should be given the same worker rights as anyone else. Secondly, decriminalizing sex work gives these individuals a greater sense and freedom to seek justice. Rape and sexual assault are high within the sex work industry but victims feel as though they are unable to go to the police as a result of fear of being arrested and punished (Open Society Foundation). Decriminalizing sex work also helps to promote better working conditions as they are able to work in a safer environment without the fear of not being able to seek medical care if needed. Sex workers should be able to speak up about their work environments and should know their legal rights with regards to their employers and clients. Decriminalizing sex work also had a positive affect on the health care industry. More safe sex can be promoted which could help reduce the risk of sex workers contracting HIV and other STI’s (Centre for Disease Control and Prevention). Sex workers such as prostitutes should be given better access to health care services to protect their health and safety.

I believe that sex work will become more globally recognised and accepted in the future as more people are starting to realize how sex workers rights are being stripped from them and that it is more unsafe for sex work to be illegal than for it to be legalized and decriminalized. There are certain expectations about identity and behaviour” (Hawkes: 132) that exist in our society that dehumanizes sex workers but I believe slowly society will start to be more accepting.  In comparison to the rest of the world, the US is still pretty struct about their laws with regards to sex work. There is little flexibility which I believe will change in the future. I believe that sex work will be legalized and decriminalized in the US as those in power will start to see the positive results that could occur from doing this. As we can see in the US, sex workers still make money whether that be illegally or in legal brothels. By legalizing and decriminalizing sex work, these workers will be able to be taxed which can give millions of dollars in tax money to the government annually. By legalizing sex work, the US government will be able to slow down and mitigate the STI Epidemic that exists within our society (Centre for Disease Control and Prevention). STI cases increased after 2020 and continue to do so (CDC, 2023) which is very costly to the US health care system. By legalizing and decriminalizing sex work, individuals like prostitutes will be able to have safer sex and education of sex safety which can help to