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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

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"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"-"And you better not start now"

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Genre: smut with a saltbae of fluff

Warnings: alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, swearing, bit of dom! JK, biting

Summary: Upon entering the club you come across a familiar face. Turns out your laundry adventures were not over. Who knew that clean laundry could lead to dirty talk?

Word count: 6.5k

rating : 18+

A/N: Massive thank you to @bangtanhome for not only being my beta but also my support and making this whole thing a polished princess. Thank you Moon so much for taking the time to edit and thank you for listening to me whilst I complained about this. And most importantly massive thank you for giving me pointers. This is my first piece of nsfw writing and I was extremely unsure about putting it out there but you’ve literally been an angel and were patient with my unsure self whilst also making sure you made this readable <3 -I also would like to thank my soulmate and best friend for putting up with me and dying in the process of reading a fic about her bias. I will warn that i massively sleep deprived at this point but i wanted to get this out with the occasion of the Muster 2021 so here she is!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Fuck. You’d overslept. You weren’t panicking because you were going to be late; you were normally late anyway. But as soon as your eyes opened, you felt the grogginess that comes with sleeping a bit too much. Your body felt sluggish, joints throbbing and your mouth feeling like you've stuffed cotton balls in it. Feeling like you've been through a survival show, you know it'll take at least an hour for your body to wake up properly. However, you didn’t have time to let yourself slowly come to. You were already late. Any later than this and you may just as well stay home for the night- and go back to sleep. You reveled in the thought for a second, but no. Your friends were impatiently waiting for you to go out clubbing with them. And most importantly to lend them your car. You knew that only because they have called and messaged you incessantly for the past hour reminding you of it. You were thankful at least that you were not the designated driver for the night. Normally you’d draw straws and this time you had got lucky, you could drink as much as you wanted.

‘Good lord Y/N get your ass out of bed,’ you hyped yourself up and just like a bandaid, you ripped yourself from your covers and rolled out of bed. Landing with a thud you groaned upon impact. That was going to leave a bruise.

After a quick shower to get the cobwebs cleared off your mind, you put on a dress. You didn’t wear dresses normally, your wardrobe consisted mostly of pants and various tops. To be tightly encased in a dress that was a bit too short for comfort made you feel uncomfortable, but you knew that as soon as you had some alcohol into you, things would change. A loud knock at your door told you that your friends had finally arrived so you hurriedly grabbed your purse and keys and were out the door. You hesitated for a moment, the feeling of having forgotten something weighing on your mind. When you couldn’t figure out what it was, you decided that it must not be important. Plus, your friends were waiting; time to get the show on the road.

As soon as you entered the club, the heavy smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol hit your sensitive nose. The atmosphere was too loud and obnoxious for your sober brain. To remedy that, your friends decided to stop by the bar first and buy a round of shots to get the night started. With the burn of the alcohol running down your throat, your confidence levels increased. The dress didn’t make you feel uncomfortable anymore, instead you prowled around, your hips moving to the beat. You were aware of the lustful stares that you were receiving and you thrived off of it. Tonight you were on the hunt, ready to let loose after the stressful week full of exams.

“Hey, Y/N. Muscle at 12 o’clock has been giving you the look more than a couple of times,” your friend leaned in to make themselves heard over the loud music. “Try not to be obvious, but I'd say he’s a 10.” You nodded in acknowledgment running a finger over the rim of your glass.

“He’s looking away now, look look,” they nudged you, forcing you to turn around. In all honesty, you weren’t interested in going home with anyone. You were simply enjoying the admirative stares and the smouldering gazes that were thrown your way, but you had no intention to take any of them home with you. However, when you turned around, you were faced with the impossible task of reconsidering. The back of the man your friends' pointed out was indeed muscular, broad and strong, you could see the muscles popping underneath the black shirt he wore. The sleeves of the shirt were pushed up to his elbows, allowing a full display of tattoos on his right arm.

Normally you would have second thoughts about a person like that, but there was something about his demeanour that drew you in even without seeing his face.

The handsome man motioned to one of his friends and his whole body shook with laughter. Observing the way the shirt strained against his muscles you licked your lips involuntarily. For a second you thought he looked strangely familiar, and before you could convince yourself you were being paranoid, he turned his head to the side to entertain the person to his right.

The messy mop of hair, defined jawline and that bridge of the nose they all belonged to the laundry boy - Jungkook. You smirked, “I’d give it a 15 actually”. As soon as you said that, he threw you a glance, his smile wavered as he made eye contact. You felt satisfied at the recognition in his eyes.

You slowly turned back to your friends, certain he would come to you. It took him the entirety of the time you took to finish your drink to make his way towards you.

“Don’t look, he’s coming.”

“Oh, he will be,” you smirked, eyes twinkled with excitement as your friends laughed at your slurring words.

Jungkook had noticed your enticing figure entering the club from the very beginning. It was as if a magnet pulled him towards you. He recognised you as soon as he laid eyes on you. How could he not? The cute girl from the laundry room in the daylight turned into an alluring vixen during nighttime. His eyes were drawn to your hips, the curve of your back and the tempting strip of skin he could spy; they were enticing to him. He tried his best to focus on the way your eyes sparkled in delight when one of your friends would make a joke, but when you ran a finger over the rim of your glass tracing delicate patterns, he felt your siren pull.

You smelt him before you felt him, the subtle vanilla enveloping your senses overpowering the scent of sweat from around you. He stopped right behind you, with one hand on the stool next to you; not completely encasing your form, but close enough that you could see his jawline in your periphery. Leaning in under the guise of ordering a drink from the bartender he pulled the stool and sat down. He didn’t address you at first, patiently waiting for his drink, his long fingers tapping the counter in rhythm with the beat. You tried your hardest not to stare at his hands, the art on them fascinating to you: the doodle style art accentuating his knuckles and the veins running tracing all the way up to where his skin hid beneath his shirt. You tried to keep a poised front, talking to your friends as if he was not there, but you could feel the heat of his stares from time to time, goosebumps forming on your skin.

You knew your friends were getting drunker and drunker as time passed, but you’d underestimated them. Soon enough they each scattered around the surface of the club looking for a dance partner. Your friend left you in charge of the drinks they ordered, winking at you suggestively as they left. That meant you were alone. And judging by the way your skin prickled, Jungkook was still seated next to you.

“A gin and tonic, please,” he ordered another drink. You realised now would be the perfect time to not only talk to him, but also repay him for earlier. As the bartender presented him with the bill you turned around and smoothly presented your card to him. “Make it two on the same tab.” you smirk, winking at Jungkook when your eyes met his.

You heard Jungkook laugh at your brazen attitude and you had to admit to yourself, if not for the alcohol you’d had earlier, you would’ve probably walked away. You made direct eye contact with him and smiled.

“Nice to see you again, laundry boy,” you smirked. Jungkook looked taken aback for a second. The image of you in the laundry room is completely erased. What he saw in front of him now was an alluring woman, sure of herself and what she wanted. And she made it clear that she wanted him. Hiding a smirk behind his hand he leans closer to you, his breath fanning the hair stuck at the nape of your neck.

“It’s Jungkook, not 'laundry boy',” he yells over the music. Your shoulders shake with laughter.

“I know, but it is fun to tease you - Jungkook.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in delight. He's caught onto what you were doing and he was ready for it, two could play at this game.

“What’s your name?” You were half expecting him to pull a bad pick up line, the earlier impression that you had of him still engraved into your mind. When he didn't, you smiled, hiding your satisfaction. Maybe he really was worth a 15 and not a 10.

“What, no ‘I didn’t catch it’? No ‘I bet it hurt’? I’m offended, do I not deserve a bad pick up line?” you grinned at him and he burst out laughing, the sound reverberating through you making a shiver run down your spine.

“You got the drinks, pretty girl, there’s no way I can use a pick up line now,” you started laughing earnestly. He was definitely not what you had expected. The muscly tattooed facade was clearly done just for the purpose of aesthetics, and not because he slotted right in with the rest of the douches.

“Fair play, but I did say I was going to pay you back earlier,” you gesture with your head as if to point out which earlier moment you meant.

“I see. This is how you intended to keep your word then” Jungkook said just as the bartender places the drinks in front of you both handing him something. “But as it happens, I am a step ahead of you” he waved a card in front of you. His satisfied smirk made you pause flustered. Realising he’s already given his card to the bartender earlier you blushed.

“That’s not fair, laundry boy” you pout. “Now I have to find another way to repay you” you fumbled with the card the bartender handed over to you struggling to place it back in your clutch.

“I am sure we can find other ways” you paused looking at him. Under normal circumstances you would have found that to be incredibly off putting, but noticing the way he scrutinised you so intensely, no hidden message behind his smoldering gaze you squeezed your thighs together a wave of heat enveloping you.

You took a sip of your drink to mask the deepening blush and cleared your throat. You knew that if you gave him your name you were in for the ride. “It’s Y/N” you took another sip, savouring the taste of the alcohol.

“What?” Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to hand him your name so freely.

“It’s Y/N” you yelled louder and leaned into him thinking he hadn’t heard you because of the music. The waft of your perfume clouds his senses, the smell of cotton and lilac enveloping him. Needing to be closer to you he chanced it and asked you for a dance.

You finished your drink with a gulp and nodded your head. You grabbed his wrist and started making your way through the mob of people. Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at the way your hips swayed to the beat and when you threw him an alluring look over your shoulder he couldn’t help but be lost. He felt like a puppy following your sultry form through the crowd.

You finally stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, your moves more accentuated following the beat of the music. Jungkook stopped a few inches away from you, unsure whether or not he should place his arms around you yet.

You stepped closer to his body, your movement predatory. “Come on laundry boy, you can do better than that. Think of this as part of the payment” you winked at him. You could see the shift in his eyes, a flash of something heavy across his face, his demeanour changing in an instant from uncertain to commanding in a second. He gripped your waist tightly and pulled you flush against him moving along with the beat.

For a second all you could feel and smell was him. His domineering attitude instantly turned you on with the silent promise behind it. “Oh, this is just the beginning” he moved his hands so that his arms encased your waist intending to savour the feeling of you against him. Fully intending to see where this night ended you hooked your fingers into his belt, your bodies so close together they melded into one.

“Bring it on lover boy.”

The oppressive atmosphere of the club was enough to cloud all your senses. The alcohol running through your veins made you braver than you would have ever been. The smirk Jungkook threw at you was almost tantalising. Inviting you to commit sin. And the thought of tasting his lips and running your hands through his hair whilst his breath fanned over your throat was mouth watering. You’d been skirting around each other for the whole night, laughing, drinking, talking, but most importantly eyeing each other up. The last straw for you was when a rogue drink came flying out of nowhere and drenched the two of you. The liquid mixed with his sweat and snaked its way from his temple down to his jaw. You watched as the drops ran lower and lower as if directing your gaze towards his chest. Swallowing thickly you knew that you were a goner. If he’s ask to fuck you right there on the dance floor, you would surrender instantly.

Smirking at your lust filled expression, Jungkook knew he had you where he wanted. He had been staring at your lips for the whole night, entranced at the way the plumpness was enhanced by the sheen from when you’d run the tip of your tongue over them. He was mesmerised. He could also imagine that tongue running over his- he tried to stop himself there, aware that he’d get hard if he kept going in that direction. He could already feel the strain against his pants.

“Another drink?” he offered, and you shook your head at him. Another drink was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was him, to kiss you until your lips were raw and to pound into you senselessly until you could hardly remember your name. Were you drunk enough for this? Probably not, but you did not care for once. You wanted to remember this.

Leaning closer to you with the excuse of the loud music, his breath fanned the nape of your neck and the sensitive shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Then what would you like, love?”

There it was, the thousand dollar question. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath in you looked him straight in the eyes with determination. It made Jungkook shiver. You looked fierce and incredibly alluring. It took all the strength he had in him to not shove you on top of the bar and kiss your brains out. “Tell me?” he coaxed you.

He knew what you wanted. You had been obvious for the whole night. But so had he. Throughout your conversation you were undressing each other with your eyes. You noticed the way he couldn’t keep his eyes away from your ass when you would lean over the bar to ask for one more round of drinks.

Under normal circumstances, that thought would have made you nervous. This time it gave you the courage you needed to let yourself go. To switch from being the player to the one played. And if he was the one doing that, you didn’t mind one bit. “I want you” you bit your lip and looked at him from under your eyelashes. His eyes darkened with lust. Mind clouded with desire, he grabbed your wrist tightly and without a word started making his way through the crowd. The roar of the drunken crowd, the smell of sweat and alcohol, and the feel of sticky bodies bumping into you didn’t matter anymore. All your focus was on the way his back muscles moved with every turn of his body. Suddenly a flash of the same back muscles, naked, moving as he towered over you and thrust his hips into yours made your stomach clench and you could feel your panties getting damp. God you wanted him so badly.

Jungkook could see your wistful lust-filled eyes becoming hazier and he sped up the pace. He finally stopped when he reached an empty corridor near the back exit. He would have liked to have more privacy than that, but something about making you beg for him in a public place made his cock twitch in anticipation. He really needed to get a hold of himself otherwise he’d be done before you’d even started.

He tugged at your wrist and lightly pushed you into the wall, he would have taken things a lot slower but your gaze told him to hurry up and take you then and there. And who was he to deny you?

His eyes raked over your body, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Beautiful”. Even though he craved to taste you, he took a moment to appreciate the way your eyes glistened with passion, your chest heaving along with your breaths and your perfume clouding his senses. He wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

A fistful of your hair in his hands, he pulled you flush against him, until all you could feel were the hard planes of his chest and his hardened member poking at your abdomen causing you to moan, your panties getting wetter.

You whimpered at the sensation as his fingers gripped the sensitive hairs at the back of your skull, goosebumps forming on your skin in anticipation. Expecting him to attack your mouth with the same hunger that was displayed in his eyes you leaned more into him.

You silently begged him to release the coil that had formed in your stomach but he wanted you to beg. His breath fanned the pieces of hair that fell onto your face. The last rebellious piece of you that refused to fall into his clutches. In a desperate attempt to get him to kiss you, touch you - do something, you grabbed tightly onto his biceps relishing in the feel of the muscle tensing underneath your fingers.

“You’re not playing fair laundry boy,” you huff, feeling frustrated over the lack of contact. His laugh, dark, deep and lascivious sent a shiver down your spine.

“Baby girl, that’s not my name” his free hand clasped onto your waist squeezing hard enough to send a jolt through the pit of your stomach all the way down to your heated core. “Jungkook” you whimper and in a last attempt you hook your leg around his thin waist.

“That’s it baby” he lowered the hand on your waist towards your thigh, his fingers leaving an indentation in the skin. Seizing the opening you started grinding your core onto his thigh trying to relieve the ache. His lips ghost over your neck in a tantalizing way, his tongue sweeping over the nape briefly tasting your saltiness. The sensation of his warm tongue on the exposed area of your neck followed by the coldness from the air makes you moan. You could smell his perfume, combined with the musky scent of his sweat and alcohol made your head swim in delight.

“Jungkook, please” , you exposed your neck to him needing more. Rolling your hips into his thigh you could feel the blood pumping underneath your skin, the pleasure overshadowing any rational thought. The friction between your clit and his pants left you breathless, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter ready to unfurl. All of a sudden Jungkook stepped a few inches away, and you lost contact with his leg. Robbed of your release, you instantly whine.

“Mmmm, I can't have you cum on my leg, as much as I would like to see you ride it out on your own. I need to taste you.” he demanded. The hand still supporting your leg inched closer and closer to your dripping cunt. Slipping a cold hand under the hem of your dress his fingers made contact with your heated core causing you to jerk. You yelped, your hips bucking into his hand. Your hands latched tightly onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into them in an attempt to steady yourself. He cupped you through your panties, the heel of his palm pressing into you. Muffling a moan into his shoulder you begged him to touch you more, but he retracted it away from your tender flesh.

“Nuh-uh not yet.” The hand pinched your thigh and you tried not to cry at the feelings bubbling up inside you. You were frustrated and horny, and his taunts were enough to make you crave for more.

“Laundry boy” you warn, staring him dead in the eye.

“Y/N, what did I say about my name” he pulled at the hair he still gripped tightly in his hand. Cradling you close to him he bucks his knee into your core, this time freely offering the friction that you had been yearning for. You whined, the lewd sound echoing in his ear. Your clit on fire, you pressed yourself more into his knee.

“That’s it, moan for me with those pretty lips” gaining a bit of self control you decided it was time for you to step up your game.

“Do you not want to see what else these pretty lips can do?” you licked your lips, your heart racing. Your hooded eyes suggested more than Jungkook would have expected from you.

“Dirty girl” biting his lip before he crashed them onto yours, the contact making your lips smack and your teeth clash. Neither of you care as your tongues intertwine, carrying the battle that your hips are craving. The friction between you caused your whole body to heat up, your senses heightened. You could feel every bit of him against you. The way one hand gripped your thigh and the other pulled at the sensitive hairs at the nape of your neck, the way his tongue roughly caressed yours. He was intoxicating. In the heat of the moment he roughly pushed you into the wall behind you, the force causing you to moan into his mouth.

Jungkook was at the end of his wits, he had to have you now. He needed to taste you, see you unfurl in front of him as he eats you out. Breaking the kiss, your mouth sore, he observed the way your pants made your chest rise up and down, pushing your breasts into him.

Without a word, he attacked your mouth once again for a brief second before he trailed down your jaw to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin in the process. The hand on your thigh reached once more underneath the hem of your dress, this time making its way fully and cupping your dripping core. At the touch of his hand on your sensitive clit your knees buckled and you let your weight onto him, your forehead dropping onto his shoulder for support. You tried to suppress a moan.

“Let it all out baby” his mouth at the shell of your ear, the tip of his tongue trailing the delicate flesh there. “You’re so wet” he moans, “I can't wait to taste you.” His finger dipped under the band of your panties trailing over your center. “So soft” - he sucked your earlobe into his mouth and gave it a small bite - "so wet for me”

This time you couldn’t hold back your moan. The feel of his finger pressed into your folds, parting them and exposing your clit to his ministrations had you squirming. The tip of his finger started drumming in a rhythmic steady fashion on your engorged button. The feel of his lips caressing the sore earlobe relieving the sting from the bite is too much for you. “Jungkook please, I need..” your moans getting louder and louder as the pad of his finger presses harder in an unrelenting tempo.

The hand holding your neck slowly inched towards the swell of your breasts, picking the flesh there until it turned sore. His fingers still attached to your sensitive bud he suddenly drops on his knees in front of you. With his support now gone you try to grip uselessly at the wall behind you. He slots himself between your legs, forcing them to spread open. As he raised the hem of your dress and pushed your panties to the side you couldn’t help but look down. The sight of him between your legs glancing up at you made your knees buckle. With one hand tracing your folds and the other gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place he gives you an uncertain look. “Is this ok Y/N?” his concern for your approval makes your heart melt, but you were too high strung to think about that. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“Please” you moan in approval.

With your approval he dived right in, too hungry for your taste. Parting your folds with his fingers he starts by giving you a tentative lick. Being sensitive from his fingers you writhe, your hands desperately clutching at the wall behind you. Savouring the first taste of you he thrums with his finger at your clit. You arched your back, your hands giving up on trying to hold onto the wall. Instead they found their way into his hair, fingers gripping tightly.

Diving back in Jungkook starts lapping earnestly at your folds, his finger still applying pressure onto your sensitive nub. Bucking into his face you suppress a moan. The sensation of his wet tongue prodding at your entrance is too much to take and your knees buckle. Jungkook sensed the shift in your weight and quickly grabbed a hold of your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. The hand attached to your clit now tightly gripped your calf. The change in position offered the extra support you needed to not fall over.

With your entrance now completely opened to him his tongue started rapidly tracing your folds, only stopping to suck on your clit.

“Jungkook” the overstimulation from his tongue lapping up your wetness and his teeth nipping at the sensitive cluster of nerves is too much to handle, you can feel yourself take over, and Jungkook is more than happy to let you go at your own pace. Grinding over his face, your hands still gripping at his hair, you ride his tongue at your own pace desperate to reach your climax.

You can feel it, you are so close to release you could almost taste it.

Suddenly he entered a finger, knuckle deep into you pumping in and out quickly. Letting your calf go but making sure he is still supporting your weight with his body he leaves you sensitive nub alone and traces kisses along your inner thigh, up to your navel. The dress now obscuring other parts of you he gets up, his finger still deep in you, drawing pleasurable mewls out of your mouth.

“That’s it baby girl, tell me what you need” he is panting in your ear now. With the taste of you still lingering on his tongue and the sight of you coming undone from his ministrations makes him harder than he’s ever been. He felt uncomfortable under the constraints of his pants, the zip digging painfully.

“I need you to fuck me” you finally moan, your hips grinding against him chasing for that sweet release.

“I need you to come for me first baby, I need to see your pretty face when you cum all over my fingers” swiftly he changes fingers, his thumb now drumming at your sensitive clit. You gasp as a finger teases your entrance for a brief second before it penetrates your pussy.

The loud sounds coming from the club were not enough to drown out the lewd sounds that your wet pussy was making whilst Jungkook’s finger pistoned into you. The shot fire along with the shameless sounds you were making were enough to make the tight coil in your belly unfurl. With a deep loud moan you bit Jungkook’s shoulder in an attempt to muffle the yell that was threatening to spill out of your lips. Your muscles clenching in tandem with your core. Jungkook felt your cunt clamping his fingers tightly and a low grunt escaped past his lips. He could almost imagine how wet and tight you would be around him.

“That’s it beautiful, let go”

Your hips carried on buckling, chasing the high and wishing it would not stop. Jungkook took his time observing how your head fell down and your mouth opened slightly in a silent satisfied scream, how your eyes scrunched up as if you were trying to cut off all your senses apart from the feeling of his fingers in you. You were beautiful. When at last your muscles relaxed and your high subsided a low sigh fell out of your lips. It has been a long time since someone has made you cum like that with just their fingers. Jungkook’s finger still lazily traced your clit, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.

“Jungkook '' you whined trying to back away from him but the tight grip on your waist wasn’t allowing you to move more than a few inches away. Without a word Jungkook pulled his hand out of your panties and let go of you. Your knees still weak from your climax you struggle to stand up right and you end up having to lean into him slightly for support. The sight of him licking his fingers coated in your juices sets you on fire once more.

“You’re beautiful when you cum Y/N.” Somehow, his words made you blush. The lewd act that you both partook in had failed to make you blush, instead what made you self conscious was the way he gazed at you. It was softer and more intense and it made your stomach clench once more. If not for the obscene act in the deserted corridor of a club, you might’ve actually entertained the idea that he cared.

You smiled shyly at him and in that moment he was swept away by the warmth expanding from his chest. You were indeed beautiful. And witty, and smart, and you liked to do your laundry. What more could he want? Cupping your face, he kissed you once more, slowly and with purpose. You gasped, you were not used to this gentle Jungkook. Taking the opportunity to pull you closer once more, his tongue mapped every inch of your mouth.

“Fuck me now please” you whisper against his lips. Your hand on his belt moved slowly over the bulge in his pants. He bucked into your touch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around him as much as you could with his pants still on.

“Y/N” he warns. If you carried on that way he would definitely come in his pants. Rubbing him slowly, you could feel his member harden even more under your touch.

“Is it uncomfortable babe?” you whisper in his ear. “How about I return the favour?” you unzip his pants prepared to lower yourself to the floor but he grabs your shoulders keeping you in place.

As much as he would have liked to feel those soft lips around him, he knew that if anyone were to bump into you two, it would not be good. The club was full of students going to the same university as you. If they were to find you on your knees blowing him it would instantly kill your reputation. He did not want that to happen.

“Not here” he zips his pants back up and grabs your hand gently. After all that had transpired between you this soft almost domestic treatment is not what you were expecting. Once again the warm feeling in your heart returned, and this time you were a bit more sober. He was cute, and somehow you found his duality endearing. He returned to being laundry boy Jungkook instead of the dominant Jungkook you’ve just witnessed.

You walked through the club, his hand still gripping you tightly as if he was afraid he’ll lose you in the crowd. Once you reached the outside you took a deep breath in relishing in the way the fresh air soothed your heated skin. Glancing up at Jungkook you noticed he was on his phone texting someone.

“I am texting my friends to let them know I have left,” he explained, putting his phone back in his pocket, smiling at you. The contrast of his lust-filled gaze from before and his gleeful smile almost gave you a whiplash. He was such a contradiction that you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him.

“And I ordered an Uber” as soon as he’d said that a car pulled over right in front of you. The ride back to the campus was a quiet one. It wasn’t an uncomfortable quietness though, having chatted about anything and everything in the club you were content to just put your thoughts in order. You noticed that he had not let go of your hand once during that time but with his gaze out the window, his face thoughtful you could not bear to say anything. Plus, you were enjoying the feel of his smooth hands holding yours.

As the car pulled up in front of the dorm you both shared a glance, an understanding passing in between the two of you.

Once inside the fire inside you sparked up again. Grabbing at each other, your mouths hungrily clashing, you stumbled all the way to the elevator. It was late enough that no one would see you two messily making your way to your room. As soon as you entered the lift and separated to press the correct button you finally remembered what you’d forgotten. If you were a bit more sober you would have laughed at the hilarity of the situation.

Your face fell. “The laundry” you whined in distress. Jungkook’s mouth fell. He threw you a panicked look thinking that you’d changed your mind. One glance at you was enough to tell him that you were panicking in earnest.

“What happened to the laundry?” his hand hovering over the lift buttons unsure of what to do.

“I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer!” you looked at him with such drunken despair he had to hold his laughter in. He did not want to offend you by laughing in your face. You were sober enough to not slur your words, but clearly not sober enough to process your own feelings.

“Let's get that done then.” He decided that as much as he liked your witty self, as well as you in the throes of passion, he adored this side of you too; your guard down, emotions on display. It made his heart swell thinking that you were entrusting him with your vulnerabilities.

You rushed ahead of him entering the laundry room, not paying attention to anything but the lone machine still loaded with your clothes. You quickly opened it, the smell of clean cotton wafting around you.

“Let me help.” Jungkook grabbed the pile of clothes you were holding and moved them into the dryer next to him. As soon as everything was loaded in you turned to smile at him. The panic in your eyes now replaced by the same hunger that governed your mind earlier, you grab him forcefully, clashing your mouth against his. Your hips slammed together in an attempt to ride the pleasure from before. Jungkook, not having expected you to be so forceful, moaned into your mouth and instantly hardened against your hip bone. The quiet of the laundry room was filled with the sounds of your pants as you continued to kiss. In the heat of the moment, Jungkook places his hands on your ass, hoisting you up on the laundry machine behind you. The position allowed your hips to align perfectly, the pressure of his dick now directly onto your clit. Before you could go further Jungkook stopped and looked at you.

“You need to start the dryer,” with the last of his restraints he motioned to the still machine. You glare at him, this being the second time he cockblocks you and himself. But his gaze was unwavering. You sighed and leaned away from him, reaching for the top of the dryer as well as you could still atop of the laundry machine. “Whatever you say laundry boy.”

After pressing down on the start button, you’re quick to return to kissing him. But the quietness of the room seemed odd to you. The dryer had not started. Confused, you look at it again, certain that you pressed the right button. Pressing it once more you wait this time. The dryer stayed still.

The chaotic emotions from before enveloped you again and this time you could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jungkook is throwing you a worried look, not having expected the sight of your tears.

“It’s not started! It’s broken!” you exclaim tears pooling barely hanging onto your bottom lashes. You pushed him gently aside and hopped off the laundry machine. “Why has it not started?”

The desperate look you gave him paired with the knowledge that the machine was not doing what you wanted because you had not paid makes him crack and start laughing. You gape at his bunny smile and crinkly eyes offended until the silliness of the situation catches up to you and you can’t help but join.

“I have never cried over a broken dryer before. Or been cockblocked by one” you glance at him, mirth in both your eyes.

“And you better not start now” he warns you jokingly. You stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing again.

He can’t help but be enamoured by you and your silliness. Even though the night had not gone as you’d both planned. You both crying in laughter over a dryer makes him think that maybe there was something more there than a one night stand. And he was more than ready to give it a try.

Main Masterlist

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a-splash-of-stucky · 6 years

Text

Menace

Read this on AO3 Square Filled: PDA Ship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: E Major Tags: Grinding, Making Out, PDA, Frottage Word Count: 3099 Summary:

Bucky Barnes is a fucking menace.

Case in point: those jeans.

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Notes: Idk how public PDA needs to be for it to be considered PDA, but I figure that aggressively making out in front of your friends counts for something, right?

The jeans that Bucky has on look a little something like the pair that Seb was wearing during the TIFF 2017 I, Tonya promo stuff. See here and here.

Bucky’s t-shirt looks like the fifth one from this post.

Stucky Masterlist

Bucky Barnes is a fucking menace.

This is a fact that Steve’s been aware of for a long time. However, every once in a while, the world likes to remind Steve just how much of a menace Bucky is.

Here’s the thing: Bucky is hot.

Smokin’ hot.

No two ways about it, Bucky is the hottest guy in Brooklyn.

(Steve’s opinion may be subject to high levels of bias, seeing as Bucky is his boyfriend and all).

Here’s another thing: Bucky knows that he’s hot.

More importantly, he knows how to show off his good looks. His fashion sense is unparalleled; every item of clothing that Bucky wears exudes a casual, nonchalant sex appeal that drives Steve crazy.

Case in point: those jeans.

They’re a bit of a mystery, as Steve’s not entirely sure how Bucky got himself into them. They look painted on, hugging his legs like a second skin. The jeans are black and super skinny, clinging to him in all the right places. It’s a wonder that Bucky can walk in them, let alone sit down. The denim wraps around his muscular thighs and is practically moulded to his ass, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘flaunting your assets’. The zipper in the front is straining against his bulge. If zippers could talk, Bucky’s would be begging for mercy.

Then of course, there’s the rest of Bucky’s outfit.

He’s wearing a white t-shirt that fits his torso perfectly. The material is thin enough for Steve to make out the outline of Bucky’s nipples, which is a major reason why Steve’s gaze keeps drifting down to Bucky’s chest. It hadn’t been so bad earlier, when they were outside, as Bucky had been wearing a dark blue bomber jacket that hid the offending nipples from Steve’s wandering eyes. But, now that they’re in Nat and Clint’s living room, the jacket has been shed, and Steve finds himself having to constantly force his eyes to look at more appropriate things.

“You’re staring again,” Sam whispers, elbowing Steve’s side pointedly. “Quit being a pervert.”

“He’s my boyfriend, I can stare if I want to,” Steve replies.

Sam snorts. His gaze drifts over to Bucky, who’s helping Natasha out in the kitchen. “Homeboy needs to buy some jeans that actually fit him,” he mutters.

“They fit him!” Steve protests, “They fit him really well.”

“Yeah?” Sam scoffs, “Well, I think most dudes wanna give their dick some breathing room, but everyone’s got their preference, I guess.”

It’s movie night at Natasha and Clint’s place and everyone is here. Wanda and Clint are by the TV console, hooking Clint’s laptop up to the TV, whilst Tony, Pepper and Sharon are setting out snacks on the coffee table. Steve and Sam have just come back from the corner store, having nipped out to buy a couple of six-packs. They’ve set the beers down on the floor beside the coffee table, as per Pepper’s instructions.

Sam heads off to the bathroom, whilst Steve hops onto the lazyboy, claiming it before it gets taken.

Tonight’s movie is Black Panther. Everyone except Wanda has already seen it, but as it’s a really good movie, no one minds watching it again.

“Okay, we’re ready to go,” Clint announces, standing up and clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Is it really as good as people say?” Wanda asks, as she claims a bowl of popcorn and curls up at the edge of the couch.

“Better,” Nat assures her. She sits down beside Wanda, then grumbles as Clint plops himself down on her other side, taking up nearly half of the couch in the process.

“Yeah, wait til’ you see Winston Duke in it,” Sharon says dreamily. “Now that’s what I call eye-candy.”

“Hey!” Sam says, affronted. “I go to the bathroom for literally a minute and you’re out here insulting me?”

“I love you too, Sammy,” Sharon says sweetly, feigning innocence. She pecks him on the cheek as he comes to sit beside her on the two-seater.

Tony and Pepper wind up in the oversized armchair, whilst Bucky joins Steve on the lazyboy. He clambers onto Steve’s lap and wedges his ass between the arm rest and Steve’s thigh, draping his legs over Steve’s lap. Bucky tucks Steve’s head against the side of his neck and rests his chin on Steve’s hair. Steve turns his face to the side and presses a kiss to the hollow of Bucky’s throat. Bucky huffs softly in response.

Someone hits play, and everyone quietens down as the opening scene rolls. With a bit of effort, Steve manages to snag a blanket from the side-table and drapes it over his and Bucky’s legs. Bucky hums appreciatively at the gesture.

Though Black Panther is a work of art, Steve’s not in the right headspace to be watching a movie right now. Bucky’s been wearing those goddamn jeans all evening, driving Steve wild; suffice it to say that Steve is a little riled up.

A part of him feels guilty for not paying attention to the cinematic masterpiece that is Black Panther, but he’s watched the movie a dozen times, so the guilt isn’t too strong. Steve’s focus is drawn to the fact that Bucky’s ass is dangerously close to his crotch.

“You’re a menace,” he breathes, nipping the hinge of Bucky’s jaw gently.

“Mm? Why’m I a menace, Stevie?” Bucky asks quietly, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

Steve slides his hand along the inseam of Bucky’s jeans, stopping an inch or so from his crotch.

“Leavin’ the house wearin’ somethin’ like this, that’s why,” Steve murmurs, squeezing Bucky’s thigh affectionately.

“What’s wrong with me wearing these jeans?” Bucky counters, pulling back to look at Steve, a sly smile on his lips.

“You make it hard to think,” Steve whispers, as he mouths at the skin just above Bucky’s collar. “Wanna do so many things to ya, you’ve no idea, Buck.”

Bucky makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a purr. “Tell me, Stevie.”

Steve swallows, flicking his eyes around the room to make sure that no one’s paying attention to them. “Wish I could bend you over that dining table,” Steve whispers, keeping his voice low. Bucky’s eyes flick over to glance at the table in question.

“Pull your pants down so I could see your ass. Maybe I’d lick at your hole until you’re loose and sloppy, eat you out til’ you come on my tongue alone,” Steve says hotly, catching Bucky’s earlobe between his teeth and tugging slightly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky agrees shakily.

“Wanna make you suck me off too,” Steve admits, as he uses the tip of his nose to trace the sharp lines of Bucky’s jaw. “Pull your hair, make you choke on my cock, get it all wet and messy so that I could slip it to ya.”

“Steve,” Bucky whimpers. He threads his fingers through Steve’s hair, nails scratching against Steve’s scalp.

“Wanna make you scream, Buck,” Steve says, a bit of a growl creeping into his voice. He swallows, fighting to keep his voice down, so that he doesn’t disturb anyone.

Steve trails his lips over Bucky’s skin, mouthing at the underside of Bucky’s jaw and down his throat. He plants sloppy, haphazard kisses over every bit of exposed skin that he can get to. “Wanna punish you for bein’ like this,” he says, “Makin’ me walk around with a semi all evenin’ – Christ, you got no idea, Buck.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Bucky whispers, a hint of a needy whine behind his words.

Steve bites his lips and closes his eyes, breathing out a shuddering breath. “I want that too, Buck,” he says quietly, his tongue flicking out to taste Bucky’s skin again. “Wanna fuck you hard and then I wanna make love to you, take care of ya’ real good, baby.”

“Fuck, I want you so bad, Buck,” Steve says fervently.

Bucky makes a little hurt noise in the back of his throat as his upper body twists around. He crooks his finger under Steve’s chin, tipping his head back and bringing their lips together. So much is said without a word passing between them.

I love you. I want you. You make me crazy, so goddamn crazy, Steve says, with every press of his lips and each swipe of his tongue.

I know, Bucky says in return, I love you too, I want you just as much. When Bucky pulls away, there’s a mad gleam in his eyes, a flush of colour dusting the tops of his cheekbones.

Bucky presses his cheek to Steve’s temple. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me when we get home, Stevie, I swear,” Bucky promises, his hot breath ghosting over Steve’s cheek and the top of his ear.

Steve turns his face to the side, pressing his forehead against Bucky’s throat. He can feel Bucky’s racing pulse at that point of contact.

“You wanna bend me over the table and eat my ass out? You can do that,” Bucky says breathily. “Want me to suck you off? I will. Wanna make me cry and beg? We can. Wanna make love to me in our bedroom? We’ll do it, I swear,” he whispers, twining his fingers in Steve’s hair.

He uses his grip to pull Steve’s head back, forcing Steve to look him in the eyes. “We can do it all, baby, I promise you,” Bucky husks.

Steve’s not sure what kind of expression is on his face right now, but he’s pretty sure it’s something mushy and sappy, full of love. Half of Bucky’s face is illuminated by the TV, the colourful lights flickering across his skin in mesmerising patterns. He looks beautiful like this, with his features thrown into sharp relief by the contrast of dark and light.

“I love you,” Steve says.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Love you too, you mook,” he whispers, leaning down to capture Steve’s lips with his.

Steve sighs happily, lips parting underneath the pressure of Bucky’s insistent tongue. Bucky licks into his mouth, hot and wet and insistent, a brief hint at what they’ll be doing later tonight.

Steve’s eyes flutter shut as Bucky trails wet kisses along his jaw, pausing to suck on the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He shivers with arousal, his cock beginning to stir in his jeans.

“Buck,” he says warningly.

Bucky pays him no attention. He continues to trace the tendons in Steve’s neck with his tongue, stopping occasionally to nibble at Steve’s sensitive spots, the ones that make his toes curl reflexively. Steve has to bite down on his lip to stifle his moans; Bucky’s actions are driving him half-mad with pleasure.

“Buck, we gotta stop,” Steve rasps.

“You started it, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, leaning down to scrape his teeth over Steve’s jugular. Steve’s fingers flex involuntarily, itching to grab Bucky’s waist and flip them onto the floor.

He opens his eyes a fraction to study the state of the room. Everyone else is focused on the movie, captivated by T’Challa and Shuri’s playful banter, seemingly oblivious to his and Bucky’s antics. Steve doesn’t know whether that will be the case for much longer.

“You started it,” Bucky repeats, his clever tongue tracing the shell of Steve’s ear, pulling Steve’s attention back to him. A shiver of excitement runs down Steve’s spine.

“You started it,” Steve retorts, turning to quickly peck Bucky on the lips. “Wearin’ those jeans – that’s what got me thinkin’ in the first place.”

“You love me in these jeans,” Bucky whispers, a sly smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I guess do,” Steve says, trying – and failing – to inject a little bit of heat to his voice. Bucky’s smile widens as his arms loop around Steve’s neck, pulling their bodies closer. Each press of his lips against Steve’s is hot and purposeful; Bucky’s not fucking around. When his fingers thread through Steve’s hair and tug gently, Steve moans a little louder than he should’ve.

That draws some people’s attention.

“Get a room, you two!” Tony yells, throwing a pillow at Bucky’s head. It misses him completely, landing somewhere behind the chair.

Bucky flips him off, not even breaking the kiss to do so.

“Steve! Bucky! Ew, no one wants to see that!” Wanda protests. He hears Natasha wolf-whistling loudly.

Bucky huffs against Steve’s lips. Without warning, without pulling his lips away, Bucky somehow manages to twist his body, swinging his legs around until he’s straddling Steve’s lap. The blanket flutters to the floor. Bucky drops his full weight onto Steve’s crotch, exerting pressure on Steve’s hardened cock, forcing a choked-off groan out of his lungs.

“Buck—what’re you—”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Bucky growls quietly, fisting his hands in the front of Steve’s shirt.

Their lips crash together in a sloppy, passionate kiss – a symphony of lips and tongue and teeth clacking together. Of their own volition, one of Steve’s hands curls around the back of Bucky’s neck, whilst the other grips his waist tightly.

“Bucky,” Steve pants, not breaking the kiss. “Stop it—we gotta—we can’t—”

“Fuck ‘em, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, as his lips trail across Steve’s cheek, over his jaw and down his neck. “I don’t care, I want you so bad.”

Steve groans, resigning himself to fate. Bucky is a man on a mission, and if there’s one thing that Steve knows about his boyfriend, it’s that nothing can get in his way once he’s set his heart on something. Bucky’s fingers have threaded through his hair, holding his head in place as his tongue curls into Steve’s mouth, kissing him wet and dirty. Steve lets his hands roam over Bucky’s toned back and shoulders, tracing his bunching and flexing muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

Bucky’s hands let go of Steve’s hair, and he moves to grip the back of the lazyboy. He uses his hold as leverage to grind himself against Steve’s body, rubbing their crotches together. The friction on his cock is amazing, making Steve’s eyes flutter shut. He has to bite his lips to suppress a moan.

“Fuck, baby,” he chokes out, hands sliding down Bucky’s rippling back to rest on his ass. He can’t help but give it a little squeeze, which only prompts Bucky to grind against him with more intent. Steve’s been trying hard to keep his touches above the waist, but with Bucky not playing fair – well, it’s not Steve’s fault that things got so hot so fast.

Steve opens his eyes, leaning back to watch Bucky’s movements.

He is mesmerising, backlit by the glowing light of the TV. Strands of hair has fallen out of his bun, clinging to his temples and cheeks. His lips are plump and kiss-bitten, rounded in a soft ‘o’. His cheeks are stained red and his eyes are hooded with lust. As Steve’s eyes rake down his body, he notes how Bucky’s stiff nipples are poking through the flimsy material of his top; Steve’s lips ache to close around them, to torture those sensitive little nubs. His eyes travel further south, zeroing in on the prominent bulge in the front of Bucky’s jeans, where his cock is straining against his zipper.

“You guys!” Sam yells, “Stop it, or I swear to god, I’ll dump cold water on you both.”

In response, Bucky winks at Steve, before inching closer and literally shoving his tongue down Steve’s throat. Steve laughs into his mouth but plays along, sliding his hands underneath Bucky’s t-shirt, fingertips tracing the muscles in his back.

“Oh my god, you horny dogs,” Sam groans. His voice is muffled, like he’s covered his face with a cushion.

“Boys! Not on my chair!” Nat yells. Steve can hear someone – possibly Clint or Tony – hooting and cat-calling.

“Guys!” Wanda whines, “I wanna watch.”

“How the fuck can you guys be so into each other when Chadwick fucking Boseman is shirtless, on screen?” Sharon asks incredulously.

Bucky breaks the kiss, a wild, disbelieving look in his eyes. “Have you seen Steve without his shirt?” he asks, “Now there’s a pair of pecs.”

“Bucky,” Steve says exasperatedly, cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

“And you say I’m bad, Peps,” Tony says teasingly.

“You are, just not as bad as them,” Pepper replies.

Steve can register other comments being made, but his attention has re-focused on Bucky, who is now intent on sucking a bruise on his collarbone. Bucky has tugged the neckline of his t-shirt down, giving his mouth access to that sensitive spot on Steve’s chest, the one that makes his groin throb with pleasure.

“Buck,” he gasps urgently, fingers digging into Bucky’s side. “Buck—baby, c’mon, lemme take you home, yeah? Take care of you proper, like I want to.”

“No,” Bucky murmurs, his tongue laving over the purple bruise that has started to form on Steve’s skin. “Want you now.”

Steve closes his eyes and inhales shakily, trying to reign in his deep-seated urge to fuck Bucky senseless right now. He’s hanging on by the thinnest thread of self-control, and he needs to get them out of here before they embarrass themselves any further.

“Buck, hey—Bucky,” Steve says, tangling his fingers into Bucky’s hair and yanking his head back. Bucky whines quietly, though he doesn’t fight Steve’s grip. His eyes are glazed with lust, pupils blown wide.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Steve coos softly, stroking the knuckles of his free hand over Bucky’s cheek. “Why don’t you let me take you home and show you a real good time, yeah? Open you up real nice for my cock, give you what you want, hmm?”

Bucky’s eyes flutter shut. Steve can feel the desire practically vibrating out of his body. “Okay,” he croaks, nodding jerkily.

“Okay,” Steve agrees, loosening his grip on Bucky’s hair.

Quick as a flash, Bucky whips around, swiping the blanket from off the floor and wrapping it around his waist as he stands up, the material making his erection less obvious. “Meet ya’ downstairs, Stevie,” he says, winking at Steve cheekily before spinning on his heel and stalking off.

With no means of hiding his hard-on from his friends, Steve groans quietly, his head thumping against the back of the lazyboy as he presses the heel of his palms to his eyes. Walking down a couple of flights of stairs with a rock-solid dick is going to be difficult enough; the fact that anyone he passes will see the clear evidence of his arousal simply worsens the problem.

Steve sighs. His boyfriend is a fucking menace.

#mcukinkbingo #mcu kink bingo #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve x bucky #stucky #stevebucky #wintershield #starbuck #my writing

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thisdaynews · 5 years

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Inside the Summit for Trump-Loving Young Black Conservatives

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/inside-the-summit-for-trump-loving-young-black-conservatives/

Inside the Summit for Trump-Loving Young Black Conservatives

As a crowd listened to President Donald Trump speak in the East Room on Friday, chants of “USA” and “four more years” reverberated amid the gold drapes and crystal chandeliers. There were curiously no MAGA hats. But one woman was wearing a “Black AF” pin on her gray suit.

In attendance were some of the hundreds of young black conservatives who came to Washington this past week as a show to liberal America that African Americans can be conservative and support Trump—that the conservative movement is not just for old white men.

Story Continued Below

“The media narrative is that African Americans don’t support the president,” said R.C. Maxwell, a 31-year-old Republican consultant. “We are happy to demonstrate that there is a larger African-American community that appreciates the job that the president has done.”

These young people, including Maxwell, had traveled to the capital for the second annual Black Leadership Summit, put on by Turning Point USA, a national conservative, often Trump-aligned campus group. More than 400 people from across the country attended, a Turning Point representative said. And the three-day summit featured 17 speakers, including YouTube stars, pastors, a Breitbart News editor—and an address from the president himself. Speakers pushed a “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” narrative, and panels touched on conservative values like free markets, gun rights and the Bible. Attendees were encouraged to organize as conservatives and go back to their communities as leaders to help change the norm for black voters.

“This is the herculean effort of the century,” Charlie Kirk, Turning Point‘s 25-year-old founder and executive director, said in an interview. “How can you get black America to think differently ideologically?”

That’s, of course, a tall order. Only 8 percent of black voters identify in some way with the Republican Party, according to a 2018 Pew Research Center survey. And in a recent AP-NORC poll, only 4 percent of black people said they think Trump’s actions have been good for African Americans. Young people, too—more than two-thirds of them, according to a recent Harvard IOP poll of 18- to 29-year-olds—overwhelmingly disapprove of the president.

But attendees at the summit said they believe Trump—despite the “birther” conspiracies, his “both sides” comments about the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville and his referring to parts of Africa as “shithole countries”—has done more for black America than any other president. To them, accusations of racism against Trump stem from the media, not Trump’s own actions. Many said they admire the president’s personal success and believe he shares their values—in strong families, faith, criminal justice reform, a border wall and opposition to abortion. And they believe fellow black Americans can be convinced of the same.

Kirk said the Black Leadership Summit was the brainchild of Candace Owens—Turning Point’s former director of communications. Owens has become a popular, and controversial, figure in her own right, advocating for a “Blexit,” or exit by black Americans from the Democratic Party.

“For decades we have been disrespected by the Democrats. We have empowered their party, lined the pockets of their politicians, and gotten positively nothing in return for our blind allegiance and faithfulness,” Owens said in her introduction for Trump at the White House.

Many attendees said they see the First Step Act, which enacted criminal justice reforms; Trump’s welcoming of Christianity in the White House; his tough stance on immigration; and his tax bill’s creation of “opportunity zones,“ which encourages investment in cities, as concrete steps the administration has taken to support the black community. They also pointed to the country’s record low black unemployment, which economists say can be attributed to more than Trump’s presidency. (The summit was sponsored by conservatives organizations including Liberty University and The Heritage Foundation.)

On the matter of race, attendees said they were proud to be rebuffing the political norm for African Americans, and their existence as an anomaly gave an energetic undercurrent to the summit.

“Race should have nothing to do with your choice of thought,” said Kearyn Bolin, 20, the Turning Point president at Texas State University. Bolin stood on Trump’s side while he delivered his speech in the East Room, and she gave her own remarks in support of president. While he shook everyone’s hand on stage, he kissed her on both cheeks and complimented her silver box braids that stretch to her waist. Bolin says people have called her racist for her conservative beliefs, but that helps her empathize with Trump when people call him racist. She also rejects the idea that white people are inherently racist: “If I am half-white, does that make me half-racist?”

A recent convert to conservatism, Jono Thomas, 26, said the summit offered him a respite from his liberal hometown, Houston, where he is starting a vegan comfort food restaurant. After returning from the White House, Thomas, in a top hat, white dress shirt, gray pinstripe pants and wool scarf, gathered with four other black men and one Latino man in the Capitol Hilton. (Turning Point says it paid for lodging for all attendees between the ages of 15 and 28, and gave scholarship money to more than a quarter of the participants to be able to attend; the price of admission was $10.)

The young men talked about their political opinions almost as if they were swapping war stories. They bonded over family members who refuse to talk with them and friends who no longer interact with them. Although they agreed on positions like tough immigration laws and abortion restrictions, they said they hadn’t come to the summit for political reasons, so much as to learn how to be better leaders and advocates for their values.

The men said they support Trump because they think of him as anti-establishment, and that the establishment has repeatedly failed black America. They said they reject what they believe is a “victim mentality” in the black community and proudly defy the Democratic Party, which they believe takes black America for granted.

Thomas said he does not believe systemic racism exists in America. But he does believe bias exists. “Representation matters because you have to be able to relate,” he said, when asked about the high mortality rate of black mothers compared with white mothers.

Corey D. Fields, an associate professor of sociology at Georgetown University and author ofBlack Elephants in the Room: The Unexpected Politics of African-American Republicans, said he believes in the sincerity of the conference’s attendees, but that they do not represent the majority of black Republicans. In his research on African-American Republican activists (who, he notes, are not necessarily reflective of all black Republicans), Fields has found that a majority believe institutional racism affects the black community and want the party to become more diverse. “The ‘blame black people types’ were in the minority,” Fields says.

In its seven years in existence, Turning Point, which says it now has clubs at 1,400 colleges and high schools, has been hounded by associations with white supremacy and has cut ties with several members who seemed to embrace the ideology. In May, the group fired the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, chapter leader after a video surfaced of him flashing the white supremacist “OK” sign, and saying racial slurs and “white power.” The group has publicly separated itself from at least three other members in the past year and a half for similar issues.

Kirk is quick to distance Turning Point, and Trump, from racism or white supremacy, which he calls a “wicked ideology.” “Anytime I encounter anything adjacent to that I repudiate it,” he says. (Turning Point also hosts a Latino and a women’s leadership conference each year.)

At their hotel after the Trump speech, attendees pulled out MAGA gear, flags and oversized foam hats while milling around and chatting. One wore a shirt that said, “Candance Owens is better than Beyoncé.” Some stayed and talked, networking and swapping tips about social media—how to get verified and comebacks to liberal arguments.

Among the crowd was Joel Patrick (who said he uses a fake last name to protect his family from doxers). musician and entrepreneur from Beavercreek, Ohio, Patrick, 24, has more than 50,000 followers on Twitter, where he calls himself, “THE LEGENDARY BLACK REDNECK!!!!” He stood out in his cream-colored cowboy hat and American flag-patterned Durango leather cowboy boots. (He had seemed in his element in front of the press at the White House when he laughed at aGuardianreporter’s question about the president’s potential impeachment. “Is that a serious question?” Patrick responded.)

Patrick said he believes the community he is from, outside Dayton, is more focused on “putting food on the table, going to work in the morning, staying healthy, staying fit,” as he put it, rather than the social justice issues and identity politics he attributes to the Democratic Party. Ultimately, he said, “I came to the conference to show that we are not a monolith, that African-American people can support whoever they want.”

And for him, that is Trump.

#black #Conservatives #Foreign #Politics

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lapuntaalta-blog · 5 years

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Inside Closets: Identity Framed Through History

Dr. Jennifer Baumgartner author of You Are What You Wear sees clothing as an extension of the self. Throughout our lives we've been guided by our parents in what to wear. At a certain age, we ‘graduate,’ in a sense from their assistance. We find the freedom in what we want to wear. Multiple external forces impact our decision making such as gendered stereotypes, social status, and media. What we then choose to fill our closets with overtime can give significant insight in how we view our internal selves; “our closet is symptomatic,” each piece of clothing tells a story of our unconscious or conscious choices in regards to how we see ourselves or want to be seen. History can shine a light on how clothing has impacted humans on the individual level and as a greater society.

One’s identity can be formed by society, gender discourse and other factors. But how we portray our identity onto others is a developed mechanism of communication. Society today is dominated by visual information. We are influenced by what we see, hear, feel, touch, and taste. Our senses are put on overload as the information age we live in is overstimulating. So how can we take in and compartmentalize necessary information while staying true to ourselves? There is no clear, definite answer- “Everyone of us attempts to say or hide something in the way we wear our clothes. But few of us can articulate what we’re trying to express or locate the root of the pattern, the pathos.” Pathos appeals to the emotion of the audience, eliciting feelings that are already present. Humans are trying to communicate to others by mode of dress, but if we look back in time, we can still see this idea prevail. Farmers or craftsmen would dress according to their role, mainly for functional and practical purposes. However, in a time when “fashion” was not as prevalent- people would immediately know your race, class, and gender- just by a glance. Perhaps we have developed into a society that cares too much about how we are perceived. It could be said that we are hyper aware of our self-image as we seek acceptance dictated by social markers.

In building our self-identity, gender is a significant part of the equation. The stereotype we see today (one that has been developed through history) is that females are more aware and conscious of fashion, makeup, style, and trends. This can be due to historical implications that women need to wear clothing that exaggerates or enhances their sexuality. From the 1700s into the 1800s, women’s dress was pivotal in determining the life they would live. The expression ‘dress to impress’ is seen as corsets would accentuate waists and breasts. The color and material were also a marker of wealth and prosperous family legacy. A woman's life could be changed in one night, in a time where opportunity, success, security, and power were in the hands of men. In the article “Fashion psychology: What Clothes Say About You” the parallel is drawn between clothing and society, “Clothes have developed from a practical asset to a social marker: they affect the way we see ourselves. They help us to be seen in the light that we wish to be, and also exude our personalities and social status.” Dress was and still is used as a form of showing people who you are; thus, clothing plays an important role in the concept of dating. Individuals are trying to convey an image that will be well received by a potential mate, “Our dress sense is a result of millions of years of development as a species. As with many animals, the concept of mate selection in evolutionary psychology suggests that our behavior is determined by our efforts to find a mate and reproduce.” At one point in history, what males and females wore was a method of exchanging interests in courtship. Today, we have equal rights, and women don't feel the pressure that was once indicative of their future, the playing field has started to level. We still have the ability to choose what we wear to stand out or hide in the crowd. Social markers that were so present in the past still linger in our clothing. Instead of wearing a gown made with imported materials to show others wealth and high society- we have brands that market lifestyles and relay wealth or status.

In terms of dress relaying our identity (whether fabricated or legitimate) we are still as an advanced society using choice of dress as deception in dating, interviews, or any social encounter. In “Attributions of Deception in Dating Situations,” Benz et al. found that men and women use dress to communicate different types of this deception. Men were impressing their dates by harping on security. In example, financial stability or readiness to be committed. Women were deceptive in their body image, exaggerating physical features to appear more attractive than their date. It can be gathered that the female and male stereotypes still exist from traditional gendered norms. Men have been seen as the ones who provide for the family by being financially successful. Women have been seen as the caretakers of the family while running the house. The 1950s were a time of gendered stereotypes; this was reflected in dress. The suit and tie belonged to men, and the dress and apron to women. As I look at advertisements of this time period, it’s clear that a women’s duties were restricted to the home. Most of the advertisements that have women on them are focused around selling products for bettering the home: washing machines, Tide detergent, vacuum cleaners, and more. The dress of the traditional housewife manifested an identity that women found as their future fate. If they didn't exaggerate their body image by using clothing that accentuated their bodies, they would be at risk for not having the white picket fence fantasy. High heels, pearls, and day dresses cemented the idea of being submissive to men, as they relied on them for producing this idealized life. What does this say about our evolution in regards to the roles men and women play in life? Dressing more feminine can be appealing to the rigid, masculine dress men wear, it adds to the idea that women are dainty and fragile and need a strong man in their life. How does this impact the ability for women to work, or be taken seriously? In “Influence of Applicants Dress on Interviewers Selection Decision,” Forsyth conducted a study where conclusions were made about how women are perceived by interviewers. The more masculine the outfit, the greater chance or favorability in hiring recommendations for a managerial position. This is evidence in that professional dress that has feminine qualities can hinder women’s abilities in obtaining a high position job title. Relating this idea to politics, Hillary Clinton’s choice of dress was highly covered throughout her time running for office. She was rarely seen in a dress, skirt, or feminine outfits during her campaign. In debates and rally’s, she sported the pant suite, was this done to be perceived as a more serious candidate? Or to draw a parallel to herself and the men running against her? When women wear masculine clothing, they are seeing themselves in a different light and mindset, equal to men regardless of implicit bias. I think Clinton was trying to convey the best version of herself as a presidential candidate to relay to her intended audience that she was fit for presidency and as able as her competitors for a job title that has traditionally been for men. She conveyed her social status, gender, and intentions by consciously dressing in a masculine manner. Clinton implemented deception to her audience by giving an image set with ideals that reflected her political platform. The dress she was wearing revealed the internal choice to embrace her more masculine side in portraying intangible characteristics to her identity. When coupling dress and rhetoric, it allows for powerful messages to be sent.

Clothing serves for a greater purpose than just being functional and appropriate. Because of the advancements in today’s society, we have more choices than ever in what we put on our bodies. However, the quick judgments made about what we all wear continue to rise as populations increase and interconnectedness is at an all-time high. We see what’s trending, what celebrities are wearing, and new brands that emerge every day. The pressures of finding your own style is connected to finding your true identity.

Sources:

Waude, Adam. “Fashion Psychology: How The Clothes You Wear Affect How People Perceive You.” Psychologist World, 19 Feb. 2016, www.psychologistworld.com/body-language/psychology-of-clothing-dating-dress.

Baumgartner, Jennifer J. You Are What You Wear: What Your Clothes Reveal about You. Da Capo Press, 2012.

Benz, J.J., Anderson, M.K., Miller, R.L. (2005). Attributions of Deception in Dating Situations. The Psychological Record. 55. 305-314.

Forsythe, S.M. (1990). Effect of Applicant's Clothing on Interviews' Decision to Hire. Journal of Applied Psychology. 20(19). 1579-1595.

- A.L.H

#culture #identity #clothing

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