#rfk x reader

yes i absolutely love this omg

okay i have also had thoughts like this before because the possibilities....

i feel like bobby isn't someone who's outwardly jealous; it comes out in small snide comments or looks whenever his brother has his back turned. he loves his brother too much to ever meddle, but in his opinion, Jack simply isn't right for you!

his yearning comes in the form of acts of service i feel. little ways to show you what your boyfriend isn't doing. what bobby can do better, how he is the better option, even if you can't see it.

but you're both so loved up all the time, Jack bringing you to every family holiday and event, showing you off to friends and family, all while his little brother can't get over how you'd smiled at him the other day when you'd both been alone in the library.

bobby is like a A* yearner; this man will do anythinggg to make you smile. hell, even you've joked more than once that he's more attentive than jack is (much to your boyfriends chargin.) he does small things, knows your favourite flowers, what food you like, what drink you like. Asks about the books you're reading, anything that interests you, bobby's gonna learn about.

and jack isn't blind. he knows bobby likes you; he knows his little brother has a crush, so yea maybe he does rub it in a little, but that's just brothers being brothers! you're still none the wiser that you have not one but two kennedy brothers falling at your feet.

You just think he's been sweet! the kennedys are an intimidating family, and your boyfriend's little brother is just making sure you have someone else in the crowd.

he'd never admit that he's lay awake at night wondering if there would ever be a world where you'd choose him. and best believe when jack eventually messes up (because it was inevitable he'd do something) bobby's the first one their to comfort you, to reassure you that it's not your fault, that his brother just isn't ready for the commitment you want yet!

warnings: sexual content, oral (m! receiving), wife!reader heavily (???) implied, kinda desperate bobby, pet names (doll, baby), possible grammar errors + mistakes, a bit of finger sucking

a/n: sorry this took forever i’ve been so busy! hopefully this meets what u wanted?? i rushed towards the end. also first time writing oral so this might suck

You were kneeling in front of him between his thighs in nothing but a nighty Bobby bought for you a while back. He was sitting on the edge of your shared bed, his pants already unzipped and pushed down to his ankles and the bulge in his boxers prominent.

You looked up at him only to see him staring right back at you. You gave him a smile. “What?” You asked, feigning innocence that he saw past.

Bobby let out a small sigh. “You’re teasing,” he spoke as he shifted his hips ever so slightly.

You simply giggled up at him. “No, you’re just incredibly needy.”

You were met with silence. That meant he had nothing smart to say back. You smiled at him before redirecting your focus to his bulge.

You pulled his boxers down just enough to reveal his cock which stood up immediately. Your hand wrapped around the base, stroking up and down just to get a feel of him.

Bobby let out a small grunt. “Oh, fuck,” he murmured as his eyes closed shut.

You kept your eyes on him as you wrapped your lips around his tip. He gained the confidence to finally look down at you and practically lost it at the sight of you on your knees for him.

“I love you,” he murmured out.

You paused at those three sudden words. You pulled away, grinning up at him. There wasn’t a sign of doubt on Bobby’s face.

“I love you too,” you whispered back before pressing a kiss just on the underside of his cock and wrapping your lips around him once again.

You began to take him deeper in your mouth, hand stroking off what couldn’t fit. Every now and then you’d pull away just to lick from his base to his tip.

He let out another groan, one of his hands finding the back of your head. He didn’t tug nor did he pull. He just rested it there like he was trying to keep himself stable. “Fuck, doll.”

You let out a hum as you bobbed your head back and forth which sent vibrations all throughout his body. Immediately, he let out a noise that you recognized of him being close.

As you continued licking and sucking his cock, you looked up at him. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape. He looked so perfect. Your Bobby was perfect.

“So good, baby,” he moaned out. “So fucking good, you’re so-” he cut himself off with another one of his grunts.

You smiled against him as you felt him approaching his high. You could feel his cock pulsing in your throat. Your thighs pressed together to relieve that delicious ache in your core. You hollowed your cheeks just slightly, tongue swirling around his cock.

“Like that, baby.. just like that.” He uttered breathlessly, his stomach clenching from the pleasure.

With one last movement he came. You felt the ropes of his cum hitting your tongue in which you swallowed. You slowly pulled away from his cock, some of his cum dripping out your lips and down your chin.

For a moment the only sound filling the room was his heavy breathing.

He looked down at you like you were some sort of angel, in which you were. His angel to be specific.

The hand that once rested on the back of your head trailed down to your face to scoop up the lingering cum on your chin with two fingers and push it back in your mouth. You smiled around his fingers, tongue swirling around the two digits.

He smiled down at you as he finally caught his breath. “You’re so pretty.” You lit up at the praise, letting out a small hum and pulling away from his fingers. A string of spit connected his fingers to your lips. You could see the way his eyes lingered on it.

“All for you, Bobby.” You responded, moving your head to rest on his knee. The strap of your nighty slipped off, his eyes following the flimsy line of fabric.

There was a small moment of silence before he spoke again. “Let me please you now, doll. Let me do all the work.” He sounded desperate, pathetic even. It was as if he were pleading for you to say yes.

And how could you say no to that?

notes. i can't stop thinking about this man. sorry jack, i think my frontal lobe is developing.

bobby doesn't like to spank you. in fact, before meeting you, the thought of doing such a thing had never once crossed his mind — not with any of his previous lovers. but you’re endless provoking pushes him past the point of any other effective solution. 

he’s tried other things, but none of them are quite as effective as literally knocking some sense back into you. and although he doesn’t like it, he gets some kind of depraved pleasure from disciplining you in such a way. whether you're giving him an insolent attitude, doing something he explicitly told you not to, or something that especially irks him, swearing, bobby has absolutely no problem taking you over his knee, flipping up your skirt, and whacking at your ass until it’s bright red.  

and despite years spent at catholic school, where swearing was strictly prohibited and would result in an immediate strike across the knuckles, there are a few occasions where an expletive forcefully falls from your lips. burning your hand on the stove, missing your exit on the highway, or when your husband is thrusting into you, hitting the spongy spot inside of you that you didn’t know existed before meeting him.

your hands and knees are digging into the plush comforter as bobby quickens his pace from behind you, his hands tightening their grip on the plush skin of your hips. you let your head fall onto your clasped hands, held together tightly like they are every night before you get into bed. 

it comes out after a particularly hard thrust. a soft ‘fuck’ that’s partly muffled by the comforter, but it doesn’t escape the ears of your husband. his hand cracks down onto your ass without a missing beat, like he was waiting for you to slip up. the smack sends a jolt up and down your body, your back arching slightly, daring him to do it again. “language,” he chastises you in his tone that makes you want to hide inside yourself, but also makes you impossibly slicker around his cock. you whine, which is also partially muffled, and it earns you little sympathy. 

the hand that dealt the blow is cradling your reddened behind with a stark softness, thumb rubbing back and forth like it can possibly soothe the sweltering skin. his other hand comes up to your neck, lifting your face from your drool-covered hands and the subsequently dampening comforter, holding it with more forcefulness than just a gentle cradle. 

suddenly, you feel the unmistakable tickle of his chest hair against your back. it’s slick with sweat, and probably slightly matted down with dampness. you try to turn your head, to see him, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place.

his breath is hot against the back of your skull, coming out in hard puffs of exertion as he continues his relentless pace. both of your thighs are now drenched with your wetness, the smacking of your skin echoing shamefully throughout the room. his thumb snakes its way up from your neck to your bottom lip, dragging it down until he feels the silky inside. “don’t make me wash out this mouth.” 

A/N: Good evening, my angels! This is not a request, it’s just a little fluff piece that I dreamed up because I haven’t written Bobby for a long while. I hope that this is enjoyable, and I will be starting work on the requests I have next. I set this in the 1950’s but you can imagine it whenever you desire.

Summary: You help your anxious husband fix his tie.

Warnings: I think it’s pretty clean.

Standard Disclaimer: This is a work of historical fiction/Alternate Universe. All events and character interpretations are entirely fictional and are not presented as factual accounts.

~*~

The bedroom was illuminated by a reddish-golden glow from the multicolored Tiffany lamp on the bedside table. You stood in front of the mirror, securing your pearl earring, the sound of your husband’s manic energy—manifested in frenzied pacing—mixed with the velvet tones of Tony Bennett playing on the hi-fi. He had been tightly wound like a cheap watch for at least forty-five minutes, caught in a war between his fierce sense of duty and a sudden, desperate urge to chuck the whole evening.

"I just don't understand why we have to go to this specific dinner," Bobby muttered, finally halting his frantic steps to run a frustrated hand through his mussed hair. He paced from the edge of the mattress to the window and back again. His dress shirt was half-unbuttoned and slightly translucent from anxious sweat, the tails hanging loose over his worsted wool trousers.

"It's a Tuesday. It’s going to be nothing but lobbyists and a half-dozen senators pretending they actually read the labor bill I drafted. I should be at the kitchen table reviewing those subpoenas."

Watching him lament from your spot in front of the mirror, you fought the smile threatening to curve your lips upward. He was always so impossibly handsome when he worked himself into a lather. To you, he looked less like an imposing political figure and more like a little orange kitten hissing at its own reflection.

Tonight, however, the absolute force of nature—the brilliant legal mind who could dismantle a mob boss on the witness stand—looked entirely defeated by a strip of black silk. He yanked at his tie, managing only to pull the knot into a lopsided, hopeless snarl. He narrowed his eyes at the mirror, his chest rising and falling at a steady clip.

“Bobby…” you began gently, pausing with the golden tube of lipstick halfway to your pillowy lips before setting it down. Your eyes gleaming as you admired his well-muscled shoulders, your heart skipping a beat from the sheer, undeniable magnetism he was radiating.

"I'm just saying, I could send an aide. Or Jack. Jack eats these things up. He’d probably speak French to the ambassador for an hour, and they’d completely forget I wasn't there because they’d be so incredibly charmed." He let out a sharp sigh, dropping his arms to his sides as he glared down at the fouled-up tie. "Dammit."

Standing, you smoothed your skirt and let a soft chuckle escape as you crossed the room. The sound immediately drew his attention, causing his eyes to narrow even further. He pointed at you, trying to maintain his righteous indignation as if you were a hostile witness on the stand. But ultimately, the corners of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward.

"Are you razzing me? The American labor system is on the brink of collapse, I am being strangled by my own necktie, and you find this amusing?" He advanced toward you, putting on his best severe courtroom voice.

You shook your head, grinning as he stepped into your space. The lawyer act vanished the second his chest brushed yours and his hands settled firmly on your waist.

“Nuh-uh, I wasn’t laughing at you,” you murmured, your hands sliding up his chest to drape your arms around his neck. The crisp, citrus scent of his aftershave made your stomach twist in pleasant anticipation.

“It’s just…” You bit your lip, chuckling softly before your eyes met his piercing blue gaze, kicking your heartbeat up a notch. Goosebumps prickled your skin beneath the silky fabric of your dress as his thumb began drawing slow, absentminded circles at your waist.

"It's just what?" he murmured, the question a low, gravelly demand. "You can't lead a witness right up to the edge of a confession and then clam up, darling." He stepped closer until his nose brushed your temple, sending a jolt of pure electricity through you. You bit your lip again, your eyes locking with his.

“It’s just, when you get all wound up…” you began tenderly, your heart fluttering against your ribs, “you remind me of a little kitten hissing at its own reflection.”

The exact moment the words registered hit his face like a flashbulb—especially the word kitten. He stared at you in absolute, stunned silence for three seconds, processing the sheer audacity of the comment. He was the Chief Counsel of a Senate committee. He made grown men sweat through their suits on the Hill.

“Bobby—” you started, only to be cut off by his scoff as he desperately tried to salvage his terrifying reputation. His hands tightened on your waist, his expression attempting deep offense. But that trademark, toothy, boyish Kennedy smile broke through, completely ruining the glare.

"I am highly intimidating," he argued, though his low tone was thick with amusement. "I am a very dangerous man to cross. You should be quaking in your evening shoes right now instead of insulting my dignity."

You laughed again, twisting your arms tighter around his neck to pull him down just a fraction.

“It’s not an insult; a kitten is a beloved household pet.”

A quiet, breathless beat of silence settled over the room. For a second, he just stared down at you, those icy blue eyes searching your face as if hunting for a loophole in your argument. Just as you began to worry you’d actually bruised his ego, the last remaining trace of the fearsome Chief Counsel melted away.

A low, rich chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, reverberating against yours. He let his head drop, pressing his face into the curve of your neck with a heavy, dramatic sigh of total defeat. His warm breath fanned across your skin, carrying the scent of black coffee and that tangy citrus aftershave.

"You are an absolute menace to the Select Committee on Improper Activities in the Labor or Management Field," he mumbled against your collarbone, the heat of his mouth causing you to press against him closer.

When he lifted his head again, the fierce intensity in his eyes had softened into something heavy and completely devoted. One of his large hands slid up from your waist, his thumb gently tracing your jawline before his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck. The sensation made your breath catch; you closed your eyes, melting into his embrace.

He didn't rush. He leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of quiet surrender. It wasn't the frantic kiss of a man trying to escape his life—it was the deep, grounding kiss of a man finding his anchor in the middle of a storm. He poured all his exhaustion, his affection, and his quiet exasperation into the gentle pressure of his mouth moving against yours.

A soft sound of satisfaction escaped your lips. Your fingertips trailed up the back of his neck, threading into his thick hair. You pressed back with gentle fervor, coaxing a smile against his lips as he delicately caught your pillowy bottom lip between his teeth.

Eventually, he pulled back, his breathing a fraction uneven, and rested his forehead heavily against yours. He stayed there for a long moment, soaking in the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom before reality inevitably tapped him on the shoulder. You pressed a few soft pecks along his jawline, your heart rate elevated and in no rush to end the tender moment.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, dropping his hands to gesture vaguely at the tangled black silk around his neck.

"Fix my tie, darling," he murmured, his voice a gravelly, affectionate whisper. "If I have to go listen to these lobbyists pretend to care about the labor unions, the least you can do is make sure I look terrifying while I do it."

Your hands moved to the tie, deftly looping and knotting the silk, your fingers easily undoing the chaotic snarl he had created, the simple action causing warmth to blossom in your chest. He stood perfectly still as you flipped the fabric over itself, the smooth, methodical slide of the material seemingly soothing the last of his tension.

"Terrifying. Right," you agreed playfully, giving the crisp, perfect knot a gentle tug against his collar before smoothing your palms flat against his chest. You pressed one last, lingering kiss to his lips and gave his shoulder a firm, affectionate pat before you stepped back. "I’m sure the lobbyists will be absolutely quaking."

Bobby reached over to the edge of the mattress, grabbing his tailored suit jacket and shrugging it on in one fluid motion. He shot his cuffs, his icy blue eyes meeting yours with that familiar, dangerously confident spark fully reignited. The boyish, toothy smile returned, but this time, it was all polished armor.

bobby kennedy x bimbo!reader hc’s

warnings: nsfw towards the end!

----

• your closet could make barbie jealous, and that's thanks to bobby!

• he loves to give you money for the shopping sprees. matter of fact, he's the one holding the bags for you

• loves and i mean lovessss to watch you get ready. from watching you step out the bath to placing the last touches on your makeup.

• bobby often leaves the house covered in lipstick marks. and when asked about it he could only chuckle and shake his head.

• he learned how to paint nails just for you :)

• gives zero shits about negative comments on you or your appearance

• “you don’t think her outfits are provocative?” “I mean, I’m the one who picked out the outfit”

• yeah and trust the next day you leave with something more revealing.

• bobby often finds himself hand feeding you every once in a while. Fruits, vegetables, candy, anything really.

• certified photographer for you, any photos that are close up of you is done by him. every.single.photo.

• he's always fascinated by you. anything you do really. he's always admiring you.

• surprisingly takes fashion tips from you and it helps increase his appearance.