its pride month so we all have to choose a new queer character to make our whole personality revolve around
mine is captain bbc ghosts

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@gunnedroses
its pride month so we all have to choose a new queer character to make our whole personality revolve around
mine is captain bbc ghosts

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we all know he was bricked while this was going on
Just total fucking silence
I love this movie
iron deficiency gang rise up (not too fast)
joe kennedy sr. how i HATE you

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pairing: husband!bobby Kennedy x young!fem reader warnings: explicit sexual content, pet names, and a lil age gap summary: Coming home to Bobby working turns into sweet, soft, intimate act of devotion 𑣲 for my beloved: @bobbykennedyfan
The late afternoon light lingered in your brownstone, spilling through half-drawn lace curtains in long, honeyed ribbons, catching on the delicate faint rose-pink polish gleaming on your nails—your small, quiet indulgence from earlier that day. The color shimmered like crushed petals whenever your fingers moved, and each glance at them brought a shy flutter of pleasure to your chest.
You moved through the house on soft feet, heart already seeking him. Bobby’s study door was ajar, just as it always was when he hoped you’d come looking.
You pushed it open gently. There he sat at his wide oak desk, bathed in the soft glow of the green banker’s lamp. His tie hung loose around his neck, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal strong forearms dusted with dark hair. His glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose, and his usually neat hair was softly tousled from running his fingers through it in concentration. Exhaustion sat beautifully on him, softening the sharp lines of his face into something almost vulnerable.
“Bobby?” you whispered, lingering in the doorway.
His head lifted instantly. The moment his eyes met yours, the tension in his shoulders softened. A warm, shy smile curved his mouth.
“My sweet girl,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-soft. He leaned back in the leather chair and patted his thigh. “C’mere, baby. I missed you.”
You crossed the room and slipped onto his lap, settling sideways so you could tuck yourself against his chest. His arms came around you at once—strong, warm, and achingly gentle. He pressed his face into the curve of your neck, breathing you in like he needed you more than air.
“You spoil me just by being here.” he whispered against your skin, pressing a slow kiss just below your ear.
You giggled softly, delighted, slipping your fingers into his messy hair, gently playing with the soft strands. “I got my nails done today,” you told him, holding your hand up as the glossy pink caught the lamplight. “Do you like them?”
Bobby caught your wrist with careful fingers and brought it to his lips. One by one, he kissed each fingertip, slow and reverent, his breath warm. “They’re beautiful,” he said quietly, eyes crinkling with affection. “like little rose petals… just like you."
A shy blush warmed your cheeks. You leaned in and pecked soft kisses along his jaw, playful and sweet. “I missed you all day,” you confessed, nuzzling closer. “What have you been working on?"
He hummed, one hand stroking slow circles up and down your back while the other tried to keep hold of the papers. “Just some notes for tomorrow. Stay with me for a while? I think better when you’re close.”
You nodded softly, nestling deeper into his chest. For a while it was perfect—curled warmly in his lap, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek while you chatted quietly about your day. Your nails traced lazy, affectionate patterns along his jaw and the warm, smooth skin at his open collar. He answered you in that low, gentle voice you loved, occasionally pressing tender kisses to your temple or the crown of your head.
Though, as time passed, the soft rustle of his papers began to pull at your attention. The quiet scratching of his pen, the way his eyes kept drifting back to the pages even as he held you… it made a gentle restlessness ease inside you. You wanted all of him—just him, completely focused on the two of you.
Your fingers continued their slow journey, drifting lower over the rumpled fabric of his shirt, tracing the line of his chest, then the dip of his waist. You felt the subtle hitch in his breathing when your touch wandered further, brushing lightly over the buckle of his belt.
“Sweetheart…” he started, voice already a little rough.
You looked up at him through your lashes, playful yet shy. “I just want to make you feel good, Bobby. You’ve been working so hard…”
He swallowed, cheeks flushing faintly. His hand covered yours, gentle but hesitant. “Baby, I really should finish this. There’s still—”
You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and coaxing. “Please? Just a little. I’ll be quick and quiet. I promise.”
He exhaled shakily, eyes dark and soft all at once. His gaze flicked briefly to the papers scattered across his desk, hesitation lingering there for a heartbeat, before it melted back to you—warm, helpless, and full of quiet longing.
“Alright…” he whispered, voice tender and shy. “Just… be gentle with me, hm?”
You softly smiled, heart fluttering as you carefully opened his slacks. When you freed him, he was already half-hard, warm and heavy in your palm. He let out a quiet, shaky breath as you wrapped your fingers around him.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and sweet. “Nice and slow, baby."
You stroked him with tender, loving touches—long, smooth glides of your hand while you watched his face. His head tipped back against the chair, lips parted, a faint flush creeping up his neck. Every soft sound he made sent a gentle warmth blossoming through you. You always loved knowing you could unravel him like this.
After a few moments, you slid down between his thighs, kneeling on the thick Persian rug. You pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the underside of his cock, savoring the velvety heat against your lips and tongue. You licked and kissed him with quiet devotion, tracing every inch with soft affection. Then you took him into your mouth, just a little—warm and gentle. The taste of him made you hum with quiet happiness, a soft, contented sound vibrating around him.
Bobby’s hand found your hair immediately, not guiding, just resting there, his fingers trembling slightly against your scalp.
“Oh, sweetheart…” he breathed, the words full of shy wonder. “You feel so good… so perfect.”
You worked him with slow devotion — your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach, moving together in a gentle, loving rhythm. You savored every little twitch of him against your tongue, every soft exhale and quiet huff that escaped his lips. His hips lifted just barely, rocking into your touch like he was trying so hard to stay in control. His breathing grew quicker, more ragged, until his fingers tightened ever so gently in your hair.
“Baby—I’m—” His voice broke into a low, shuddering groan as he came, pulsing warmly across your tongue and hand. You swallowed every drop with soft, loving little sounds, stroking him through the aftershocks with tender care until he was completely spent and trembling beneath your touch.
When it was over, he let out a long, shaky breath, his chest rising and falling as he slowly came back to himself. His eyes stayed closed for a moment, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. You slowly sat back on your heels, gazing up at him, cheeks warm with quiet joy.
After a few quiet seconds, his eyes drifted open, gazing at you with such tender. He reached down with gentle hands, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with infinite care.
“Come here,” he whispered, voice hoarse and warm. “Let me hold you.”
You didn’t hesitate. You rose and climbed back into his lap, and this time he pulled you even closer, wrapping both arms around you like he never wanted to let go. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply while his heartbeat slowly steadied against yours. One of his hands rubbed slow, soothing circles up and down your back. With the other, he carefully tucked himself away and zipped his slacks again, movements still clumsy and unsteady.
“You’re too good to me,” he murmured against your skin, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your throat. He pulled back just enough to cup your face, thumbs brushing your flushed cheeks. His eyes were shy and warm, full of that endless love. “My sweet, playful girl.”
You giggled softly and nuzzled into his palm, playful even now.
He rested his forehead against yours, voice dropping to a low, tender whisper.
“Tonight, I'll be all yours, hm? Just me giving you every bit of my attention, spending hours loving you the way you deserve.” His thumb brushed your lower lip, eyes soft and full of shy devotion. “Just wait for a little longer, okay sweetheart?"
You nodded, a soft, content little "mmhm" slipping out as you curled closer into his chest, perfectly content to stay right there, wrapped in his arms for as long as he'd let you.
a kiss from k: ahh I'm so so sorry if this is horriblyyy writtennn but I hope it at least make sense lmaoo. plss don't be afraid to message me to change or fix anything, tyy! 𑣲
I LOVE UUU SM SM SM SM MY BABY😭😭😭😭EVERYTHING I ASKED FOR ILY
Bobby with his dog Freckles during the 1968 Presidential Campaign
Fran Fine and Maxwell Sheffield are so Bobby Kennedy x Younger!Wife coded
photos of Kick during her years in England, 1943-1948
Don’t be shy Joansie ! Just kiss him already !
the way she tries to dodge at first then he just settles for a kiss on the cheek 🫣🫣

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@delicateez @bobbysdoe444
the first clip 💔💔💔 him sticking his tongue out omlllll my absolute babies
the concept of jfk demanding to have your guys' nasty ass *** tape put on the white house projector so he can have the best viewing experience...
@delicateez @bobbysdoe444
heheheh I've had this idea for so long
@delicateez @bobbysdoe444
hopefully this makes sense and isn't too corny
I am now chasing women madly but it looks as if I lack the Kennedy charm as I have yet to find a girl who likes me but then I don't quit easily so I'm still in there struggling. How's that love life of yours.
1943 letter written by a 17 year old Bobby Kennedy

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@delicateez @bobbysdoe444
like father like son !
"I'm proud of you for what you've done."
president john f. kennedy delivered the keynote address at the Whiskeytown Dam on september 28th, 1963. Whiskeytown Dam and Lake are part of the Trinity Diversion, a critical piece of Reclamation's Central Valley Project (CVP). [x].