#alfred pennyworth

[timmydraker]

Tim who does crochet.

It’s Dick who is given the first gift, long before Tim is Robin and even before he knows who Robin is.

It was simply because he was a kind kid who had been there to witness something horrible and wanted to comfort the poor boy he saw sobbing off two lost loved ones.

Little Tim walked up to Dick with the crochet elephant that was admittedly a little funky looking and held it up to him without making eye contact. He had hidden the small plushie from his parents lest they disapprove of his hobby, just like they did with drawing and skating.

Dick had beamed happily and held onto the toy, saying it was so cute and how Tim should be so happy to have it.

Tim had frowned and shook his head, “It’s for you, Mister Grayson. It’s Tifa.”

Never had Tim seen someone so in awe of his creation as he did in that moment and it made him beam just like Dick had been.

Once Dick took the little elephant into his hands Tim had bolted away.

Bruce was next, being gifted a big fluffy jumper on his first birthday after loosing Jason. It was a soft, light green with too long sleeves that went over his ass. It was big, far too big, and thick enough that it might even be too hot in autumn.

He didn’t wear it for a while, mainly because he ignored the big wrapped present Tim had left in his room out of guilt and shame and even a little frustration.

When he opened it up he put it on and promptly broke down, finding the feeling more similar to a hug than he thought something non-hug could get.

He wore it in front of Tim once to show he appreciated it and then wore it whenever he was injured.

Steph got a few things, mainly tops and one big blanket that he gave her after they reconnected when she came back. It had been his way of saying he forgave her and wanted to be her friend again without using words.

Cass got a big poncho with a hood that was rainbow, bright and loud while still capable of hiding her when she felt she couldn’t be seen.

It took a long time for him to make Jason anything after he came back. When he did, him and Tim avoided each other for over a year until Tim overheard Alfred talking to Bruce about how sad it was to not see his two bright boys getting along.

Alfred had been pouring tea with the pot he made a kettle warmer snug with Lilly of the Vally on it when he said it.

So, Tim had searched through his old photos of Jason’s Robin and made himself recall those old ideals and awe. He made himself remember what Jason also had ripped from him and, while it wouldn’t change or excuse how Jason had brutalised him, it made him understand him more.

He decided that instead of joining to Jason and having a heart to heart, that he should do what all bats did and start off without saying a thing.

He makes Jason a blanket that took him over a month of a floral book cover of Jane Ire.

Tim was relived when it was done and simply left it laid out on Jason’s bed in his latest hideout with a note that said,

“I know little about Jane Ire, maybe you could tell me about it sometime?

~ Tim. D.”

Jason had sent him a text a day later to say he could send him a copy with his annotations if he wanted.

It wasn’t long after Tim had read the book, taking twice as long with all the notes Jason had left in it, that he was then left to make something for Damian.

Naturally, he didn’t want to at first.

Also naturally, he got bored and wanted to make another animal after seeing Tifa again. She was cute, but a little munted with age.

He took one look at Titus and promptly made a plan to create him with crochet. He wanted to give it to Bruce after he was done, but he’s only an asshole when he finds it entertaining.

At heart, he’s a kind boy, so he gives it to Damian.

When he gets an actual, verbal thank you from the new Robin, he makes Alfred the Cat and Ace, then finally Bat-cow and Goliath.

The best thing he’s made, according to Duke, is Signals first ever fan made merch that he wears nearly all the time.

Kate says that wrong because the leg warmers he made for winter patrols have apparently saved her life.

Salina would say it’s actually the cat pawed mittens he made her when he was twelve and never told Bruce about.

[rosemarydisaster]

Reading this post made me think that not only does Alfred come up with some of the stuff that's most hurtful to Jason, not only is he an enabler to Bruce, but most importantly Jason doesn't know. Sure, Jason knows that Alfred at the very least allows Bruce to do the things he does, but he doesn't have any way of knowing to which degree he agrees with them.

Alfred came up with the Good Soldier memorial but Jason doesn't know that. Alfred is a big proponent of the "Jason did this to himself" side but Jason doesn't know that. Like the post says, Alfred isn't there when Jason deals with these things.

I think it could be interesting if there's that separation not only in the readers minds but also the kids. Tim might be the only one that suspects and that's only because Alfred enthusiastically participates in the 16 birthday trauma fest. And I wouldn't put it past him to just ignore it, he doesn't seem very keen in recognizing Bruce hurting him either.

Alfred is polite and he takes the role of caretaker. He patches them up, he makes them food, he makes sassy remarks and reminds them to stay safe. You don't want to reconcile that person with the one that says you kinda brought your own death onto yourself. Especially if you don't know he said that.

The potential angst of Jason being extremely fond of Alfred, his vision of his dad tainted by the trauma while his grandpa's remains clean, only to learn he is behind some of the worst things that happened to your memory since your death.

So he goes back to the mansion, he expects Alfred to sneer at him, to show his new disgust plain and simple. But he is just as pleasant as he ever was, offering you some refreshments and admonishing you for wearing your dirty boots on the carpet. He's always been like this.

[varpusvaras]

When Dick started to spend more time with his team, and started to talk about Wally just as much as he talked about Starfire, Bruce knew that they needed to have a talk.

"I don't care if you like boys or girls", Bruce had said. "Just promise me that you won't date Oliver Queen's son."

Not that he had anything against Roy, Bruce just really did not want to deal with Oliver any more than he already had to.

"Sure", Dick had said, in a way that very clearly implicated that if Bruce ever annoyed him too much, he would do exactly that simply to spite him.

Jason was a lot easier in regards to relationships. No teams or teammates or relationship problems that roused from having several teenagers spending a lot of time together in close quarters. Compared to Dick, Jason always looked younger and smaller, and Bruce didn't even think about talking to him about it. Not yet. They still had time to do it.

They didn't.

Jason was gone, and then he was back, and Bruce really, really did not have the time or even thought to talk to him about dating girls or boys.

And maybe that wasn't even the part that they should've talked about. No, the part they should've talked about was not dating Oliver Queen's son.

Not that Bruce had anything against Roy. He smart and resourceful and respectful (he always volunteered to help Alfred every time he came to the Manor), and he was a good father. That was especially a quality that Bruce could respect. Roy was good to Jason, in seemingly every way that mattered.

It was just that now Bruce had to deal with Oliver. Well, not in a way that he had to see Oliver more often, but he certainly had to deal with him more. Especially since every single time Bruce and Jason had an argument, Jason would spend more time at Oliver and Dinah's place, and Oliver would every single time without fail rub it in to Bruce's face.

After one of said arguments that hit a bit too close to the Holidays, Bruce knew that he had to do something. He couldn't take Oliver's smug face from having all of his kids and one of Bruce's over at their place. Bruce needed to invite them over first. Jason would understand the invitation as the olive branch that it was.

He had called Jason, but it was Roy who picked up. That was good, actually. Roy was many times easier to talk to than Jason. At least he greeted Bruce normally instead of calling him an asshole right from the get-go.

"We could come visit", Roy said, and Bruce took it was the win it was. "I'm just pretty sure that you have something to say to Jason, first."

Bruce had many things to say to Jason all the time.

"Hn", he said.

"That last argument sounded pretty bad", Roy continued, calmly and sweetly. "I'm sure that both of you said things you didn't mean to, but just because you didn't mean them doesn't mean it's okay. So, is there something you would like to say to Jason?"

"Hn." Was Bruce on speaker? Jason hadn't said anything to indicate that he could hear Bruce.

"What's the word?" For a split second, it was like Alfred was on the other side of the line, and Bruce found himself speaking before he could think about it properly.

"I'm sorry", he said.

"Thank you!" Roy sounded like he was smiling widely. "We'll be there, then!"

Roy hung up. Bruce put his phone down, his head spinning slightly.

"I assume that Master Jason and Master Roy will be over, then?" Alfred asked.

"Yes", Bruce said.

"That is splendid to hear." Alfred patted Bruce on his arm. "Good man, that Master Roy. He has certainly read his books on parenting, it seems."

Bruce leaned on his desk, his mind reeling with the realisation that he had just been out-dadded by his son's boyfriend.

A good man, Alfred had said. Bruce couldn't do anything else but agree.

[violent138]

Damian: "Baba."

Bruce, on the computer: "Hn?" *glances at Damian, double takes at how pale he is* "What did you do?"

Damian: "I think Tim has cancer. I overheard him telling someone on the phone."

Bruce: "Damian, I understand what you think you might've heard, but Tim would tell me."

Bruce:

*a few moments later*

Tim, opening his bedroom door, frowning at Bruce, Alfred, Duke, and Damian: "Can I help you guys?"

Bruce: "Before you say anything, Dick is on his way, and he's deeply disappointed you didn't tell him."

Tim, internally panicking, but deciding to play it cool: "Ominous, what didn't I tell him?"

Alfred: "Master Bruce, is this really the time? We're all here for you, dear boy."

Duke, who used his x-ray vision: "Hey guys--"

Damian: "The ruse is up Timothy."

Tim, definitely internally panicking: "Oh. Okay so before you guys say anything, I didn't know how to bring it up and we keep having disasters."

Alfred: *pats his hand*

Bruce: *self-loathing spiral, moves to brood at window*

Duke: "Okay, I'm sorry, let's take a step back here. Tim, I think you need to get a second opinion."

Tim: "No, I think I know what I did."

Duke: "It's not even fucking detectable, so it's either so early that you have plenty of time, or more likely, someone screwed up the test."

Tim: "...what are you talking about."

Damian, impatiently: "Your cancer."

Tim: "My-- my what?"

Damian: "You said you had cancer, 'it's cancer'--"

Tim:

Tim: "Jesu-- I told Bernard my sign was cancer! He guessed Capricorn and wouldn't budge!"

Bruce, Duke, Alfred, Damian:

[nosyrobin]

|| UNCLE!READER LOSING HIS GLASSES ||

You woke up, it’s a new morning of you visiting the manor. Glorious! But, when you tried to reach for your glasses, they’re missing. Missing? MISSING?! You can’t see, you’re panicking, terrified. You’ll go blind for the rest of the day like a bat! You got up quickly to try and feel for them as your blurry vision tried its best to see them. Damian walked in with a tray with breakfast, smiling like he won the lottery as Titus was by him. “Uncle! I have prepared you breakfast in be—" “not now sport, uncle lost his glasses and can’t find them.” You said hurriedly as you lift pillows up and down.

Damian immediately puts the tray down and goes to look for them. You both are trying to neatly search for them. Damian says maybe you both should check the living room as you had napped in there before getting to bed. The two Waynes nodded and rushed down stairs, well Damian rushed while holding your hand since you were still blind. Tim walked into the living room to see that you and Damian were busy looking for something. “Whats going on?” He asked as he sits his coffee down. “Lost my glasses Timmy, can’t find em.” Tim immediately got to finding them along you and Damian.

Jason came out of his hell hole of the room to the commotion of his little brothers and uncle just searching for something. “Did uncle lose his glasses again?” He asked as he starts to search with no questions asked. “Yes Jay I di— how did you know?!” “Because you lost them a lot when I was a kid. Now hush old man, let’s find them.”

Searching high and low, Jason went to search the library. No clues there other than the books you had set out for you and Jason to read later.

Dick walks in, confused as he held groceries seeing his three brothers and uncle searching like wild apes. Telling what’s going on, he immediately went to searching as well. In the kitchen was stupid, sure! But usually you take your glasses off when you open the oven to take things out. So what’s the problem? After searching, and searching. You couldn’t help but sit down in the living room feeling defeated. The boys surrounded you, feeling sorry as you just rubbed your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger.

“DONT worry unc, we’ll find them!” “Yeah what dickhead said.” “I could try and make a magnet to get your glasses!” “Let’s just double check for them you fools.” Words being spurred out the boys made you smile, but you just shook your head no. “I could just buy me a new pair..” you said.

The boys didn’t even heard your words as they went off to do their things till find your glasses. You just sigh, Alfred walks in where you sat. “Master Y/N, I suggest you check your room again. I remember when you were a young boy you lost them so much you put them in a certain place.” He says. Hinting is what he is doing. So you listened and got up from the chair and walked upstairs.

Hearing the commotion of your nephews trying to find your glasses. You could tell titus had something with your scent up to his nose as he was trying to sniff out your glasses. Damian smiled as he walked behind his dog. Dick and Jason were walking around as if this was a patrol mission. And Tim was obviously in his room trying to make whatever he can. You walked in your room, and boom! Your memory came into place.

Turn out, you left them in your glasses case in the drawer of your bathroom. You walked into your room, then the bathroom and grabbed them. All the boys rushed in your room, yelling at how they will “found” them. You turned around telling them the story and they all fell dramatically on top of each other. The battle of the nephews was done but not over.

[why-i-love-comics]

Absolute Batman #1 (2024)

written by Scott Snyder art by Nick Dragotta & Frank Martin

[frownyalfred]

I've been thinking about Jason and how you've mentioned the idea of him looking extremely similar to Bruce. The thing is, Jason tends to be written as having a (at the very least) complicated relationship with Bruce, but having a much better relationship with Alfred. It's also well known that people tend to mirror traits from people they have close relationships with.

So imagine a Jason who looks strikingly similar to Bruce but shares many of his mannerisms with both Bruce and Alfred. When his brows crease the exact same way Bruce's do when planning for an upcoming mission, he looks like a carbon copy of Bruce 15 years ago, but his hands hold mugs the same way Alfred's do on cold winter nights. He always gets the 'you have your father's eyes' comment during galas but every one of his siblings see Alfred's smile on Jason whenever he drives Bruce up the wall with his latest scheme.

He has the build, the strategical power, and determination that Bruce has, but he owes his passion, his self-awareness, his cooking ability, and biting sarcasm to the man who raised Batman.

Idk, this idea is stuck in my head but I think you'd do better at wording it than I can😅

No you said it beautifully, I couldn’t have done better if I tried. Glad to have this on my blog 💜

[gothamhappiness]

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - His denial (Part VIII)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 //

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of crying several times, hard times for reader and for Bruce, language, ANGST and more ANGST

“You know Ma, it’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me what happened between you and Bruce, but we’re all wondering why you broke up with him?” Jason asked you as he was helping you prepare a meal for the two of you. “Also, everyone's a little bit worried you won’t be our mother figure no more.” he added

“I’ll send a message on our group chat to let you kids know that I’m still there for you, no matter what happened between Bruce and I.” you replied instantly. 

You loved those kids as if they were yours and you were eager to keep taking care of them, even if it wasn’t at the manor anymore.

“Good to know,” Jason hummed and kissed your cheek. 

He would have been devastated if you had run away from his life, like all the adults that were supposed to care for him - apart from Alfred, of course. And he was well aware that all the other children - adopted or not by Bruce - loved you. You were bringing some peace and joy in everyone’s lives. That was why they nicknamed you “Hope” for when they talk to you over the comm’s. 

“And I didn’t break up. We agreed on it, Bruce and I.” you finally said, to which Jason arched an eyebrow. 

“Really? That’s not what he said”.

“Well, we agreed that I’m a civilian and that it was making things too difficult. Bruce has also been very busy and… I don’t know, maybe it was just not working anymore” you explained, trying to get away from this conversation as fast as possible.

You had spent the whole night crying over this break up. You had never been heartbroken like that before. You loved Bruce like you never loved anyone before. You just didn’t want to resume crying in front of Jason.

“Bruce can be an asshole… But I really don’t think he meant to make you feel neglected” Jason frowned

��Are you taking his defence now?” you softly teased to hide your sadness away

“No, never. Just… He loves you” Jason whispered

“I don’t think so. But that’s okay. I never thought I’d date someone for so long anyway. And I’ve meet all of you, and I’m very grateful for that”

“Ma…” Jason started but you cut him off

“I don’t really want to keep talking about him” you said and Jason dropped the subject

You did your best to forget about this conversation. You didn’t want to hear the little voice in your head saying that maybe Bruce was still in love with you, but was too stupid to let you know about it. 

You managed to push the voice away, until during an interview with Bruce Wayne, the journalist asked him if it was true you were not together anymore. You hadn’t meant to watch this interview, but your boss needed you to write an article about it. At the question, you couldn't help but fully focused on the TV and you caught a glimpse of vulnerability flashing across Bruce’s face. Only people who knew him well enough could have seen it. He quickly smiled at the journalist. 

“We’re only taking a break, nothing permanent” he instantly replied and you stared at the TV, thinking “wait what??” 

“Oh so, you’re not open to any new relationship?” the journalist asked “A lot of women in Gotham are eager to know if they have a chance with you or not. Men too. And everyone else, really”.

Bruce softly chuckled, but you could tell he was actually quite uneasy

“No, I’m not open to any new relationship. I still belong to Y/N.” he replied and you started to cry again.

You hated him for lying so blatantly in front all the whole city. He didn’t belong to you, you would know otherwise. You felt so sad, so angry. You hated yourself for having fallen for a man like him.

“Belong to? Quite a strong expression. Are you in love, Mr. Wayne?” the journalist hummed in interest

“Now I believe you didn’t ask me to come to talk about my romantic relationship” Bruce quickly changed the subject, but no need to say you started to cry even harder.

Of course he wouldn’t say he loved you, because he didn’t. You didn’t want to be such a mess again so you turned the TV off.

But a few instants later you received messages from the kids asking you if it was true that it was just a break and that you would come back home at some point. They were all so adorable, saying they understood if you needed to take a breath from the Batfamilly, especially when things were so difficult in Gotham. They promised to keep protecting you no matter what anyways.

You had no idea what to answer at first. You didn’t want to hurt their feelings. Eventually you told them the truth: “I’ve told you I’m still there for you as well, and I’m touched you are all so eager to have me back at the manor… But in all honesty, I’m not too certain what is going on and why Bruce said all of this. I don’t want to talk to him, but I guess you can ask him directly”

No need to say that everyone was pretty disappointed in your answer and that none of them asked about it to Bruce.

You didn’t want to go back to the manor. You didn’t want to run into Bruce. You thought several times to ask the children to grab your belongings for you, but it would mean for them to come into Bruce’s room and the man wouldn't be happy about it. They were welcomed to come into his room only when they needed help or reassurance after a nightmare. You could also tell that the children didn’t know how to deal with the break up.

You didn’t want to force them to be in between Bruce and you. 

Unfortunately you needed clothes from his place because you were soon going out of Gotham for a couple of days. You waited until the last minute to finally go back to the manor.

Everyone was out, except Alfred who greeted you with a warm smile. His smile flattered when you told him you needed to take some belongings from there. He didn’t stop you. However you were certain that he sent a message to Bruce.

You were in a pretty dark mood. Your mother had discovered your father wasn’t dead. You were a little bit surprised that the Batfamilly wasn’t on the case yet. Maybe Falcone did a good job to hide things away. Or maybe no one wanted to deal with something that might end up hurting you. 

Either way, you knew things were going to be hard and your mother was going to hate you for having lied to her about your father. You wished things would have been better with Bruce, because you would have loved to have someone with you. You didn’t want to drag the children in this mess, so once again it was you alone against your past.

You jumped when you heard Bruce’s soft voice talking to you. You had been so deep in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard him gently opening the door.

“What are you doing?” he leaned against the door frame to seem relaxed but you could tell he was watching you with great intensity and concern.

You wouldn’t have believed it if he would have told you, but watching you removing your belongings from your shared room was eating him up alive. He needed all his willpower to not prevent you from doing so. When you resumed your action of packing away, he felt his chest tightened.

“Packing. Need to go see my mom. Some stuff happened with my dad… And I need to deal with this mess.” you explained

“Anything I can do?” he offered

“Of course not. You have enough to deal with anyways.” you shrugged “By the way, I won’t be able to grab everything right away, so I’ll probably come back for the remaining things. Obviously you can send everything to my flat if you don’t want me to come again” you added, looking for a brief instant back to him

“Look, Y/N, I guess this isn’t the right time to speak with you, but can we maybe plan something for when you’ll be back to Gotham?” Bruce offered, almost pleading with you

“You mean to speak about how we went from “we agree to break up” to “you break up” and finally to “this is just a break”, Bruce?” You paused and turned around to fully watch him this time. 

Bruce moved a hand into his hair. He had no idea how to fix your relationship.

“You broke up. For my answer to the journalist... It was just easier to say that” Bruce tried and you rolled your eyes at him. 

He internally cringed, why wasn’t he able to say the right thing when he was already missing you so dearly?

“Whatever, Bruce.” you finally said

“So yes for a date when you’ll be back?” he insisted

“Whatever, Bruce” you said again which hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

--

PART 9

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

@tatsuri-zomushiki

@navs-bhat

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

Taglist for this series <3

@Esposadomd

@moraxussy

@resident-cryptid

@legendarypiratecheesecake

@randomnamedmira

@elleclairez

@mindless-rock

@lumiqou

[demonic0angel]

(Danny got a little trouble with the Box Ghost)

"Hey Master Danny, today looks like the perfect time for a little house cleaning," Alfred smiled while handing the boy a feather duster. "And since the attic is getting a little musky, you will be doing that first."

"Why not you?" Danny questioned.

"Because I have some errands to do in town." Alfred said.

He sighed as Alfred turned and headed out.

"Looks like I've to take care the manor, then..." Danny sighed.

(Later)

Danny coughed while walking up the stairs to the attic, finding LOTS of dust and spider webs including some boxes in the pitch black area.

He was trying his hardest not to cough up a lung and keep his eyes from watering constantly as he opened the window to try and air it out. "Disgusting."

As he coughed, he pulled out a flashlight and turned it on.

Click.

The Box Ghost was here too.

Danny stared at him. He stared back.

They both stared at each other.

Without warning, Danny immediately threw himself at the Box Ghost in order to contain him. He tried to close the flaps of a cardboard box with the Box Ghost inside as he shrieked and cried, "I am the Box Ghost! How dare you try to contain me in boxes!"

"Shut up! My grandpa is in the house!" Danny hissed. "How did you even get here?! I'm not in Amity Park anymore!"

The Box Ghost moved away from his grip, darting out of reach as he then said guiltily, "We got lonely, so we're taking turns to see you."

"Are you kidding me?!"

The door to the attic opened and Alfred popped his head in. The Box Ghost disappeared in a puff.

"Is something the matter, young master Danny?"

"No, nothing! I'm okay! Just attacked by..." he looked down at his dusty, messy self, "Uh, dust bunnies."

Alfred seemed deadpan and exasperated but he wasn't going to push. He just nodded slowly. "Well, thank you for cleaning the attic for this poor old man. It's been causing me much difficulty."

Danny could only nod in guilt.

Alfred was unfortunately only going to have even more difficulties if Danny's rogues were going to come to Gotham to see him.

[gothamite-rambler]

Batman enters the Batcave with a brown box and hands it to Red Hood.

Batman: Here, birthday, anniversary, whatever.

Batman sits at his computer exhausted. Jason opens the cautiously and is elated to see the surprise.

Jason (soft voice): Kitty.

A small floofy black and orange cat popped his head out, looking around and then yawning. Jason nearly dropped the box from the cuteness of the kitten.

Batman: Yeah, he's a stray and wouldn't stop following me, but I don't need another cat. You can have them.

Jason takes the small fluffy black and orange cat out of the box. The cat looks around, then at Jason and meows happily.

Jason (happy): He's mine! I'm going to love him and hug him and feed him and give him all of the things he wants!

Batman: Mm-hm.

Jason: He's so cute! I'm gonna name him... This is a guy right?

Batman (pretending to be busy): Not sure but if you want you can name him two names of a character that you particularly enjoy.

Jason: Austen! Would you like that little fluffers?

Austen the cat meows happily as Jason snuggles the cat and receives kisses from the cat licking his nose.

Jason: I'm going to feed you fish tacos.

Jason leaves without saying thank you. Selina and Alfred watch him leave with a smile.

Selian: You got a stray off the street and gave it to him. Aww.

Batman (typing): You could say that, I said it wouldn't stop following me and Jason likes cats. I made the best decision for two parties.

Alfred (to Selina): That's him confirming what you guessed is correct or another way to say he loves Jason enough to finally get him a cat.

Selian: Aww, that's sweet, Bruce. Made sure to get a stray and not buy a purebred.

Batman (calm and lying): Whatever you want to guess, I just know what I said is what happened.

Selina kisses Bruce on the cheek.

Selina: I'm glad you made him happy if even for a moment.

Batman: I try.

[dc-comics-enjoyer]

The Batkids playing 'Truth or Dare' after a huge mission that brought them to get back to the Manor all together, BUT they're all exhausted and no one wants to move so it ends up just being 'Truth or Truth', BUT they’re all so beat up, barely awake, and high on painkillers that it eventually just turns into 'Give Bruce a piece of your mind', with each of them taking turns venting to Bruce.

[f4nd0mlife]

Absolute Batman (2024) #1

[vanya-evergreen]

Batfam x reader platonic concept

But make it over throwing royal’s with reader as a royal and Batfam as revolutionaries AU (with some fantasy elements that aren't expanded on)

CW: Neglect, Violence, blood. War like topics (revolution)

Something to note: in the real world timeframe I would put this in the late 1910s to early 1920s. The cars are faster than the actual cards of that timeframe because of fanfic logic!

Ps, I would love to write more of this (i already have another 1000 i am keeping to myself)

The soft patterns of rain on the roof was the loudest sound in your room. You lay on a bed, arms locked to your sides, staring up to the ceiling of the tall room. It was opulent to say the least, but that was the last thing you would think of. You were stuck in a cycle of memories that felt like a lifetime ago, yet it was only a few months ago that all of what you knew was gone. Not that you missed much of it.

There was once that if you had even whispered a complaint, it would've been fixed by a servant before you could dwell on it. Now it would just fall on deaf ears. You had alway been pacified with gifts, trips, or even new lessons to learn. It was one of the many benefits you got from being of royal descent, when that had mattered. You were happy with what you had but you still craved more. You wanted the unconditional Familial love that every other child seemed to get.

Slowly, you began to watch the families at garden parties, grand balls, and even going through daily life. You can’t help but staring as the parent lovingly held their children, or how they would even just watch them from afar. If you would turn to your parents, they always had their backs to you. You screamed and fought for their attention. You cried quietly every time they forced another toy or trip onto you. Sadly, it turned out to be much worse for you, everyone thought you were spoiled and ignorant because of your public fits. You never had an understanding of how parents were meant to love a child, until you met him.

The Dark knight.

You had met him briefly once before, given he was an army commander. It was a formality really, but you did remember his suit. It looked oddly like a bat with his cape. Still the Dark Knight was skilled with the sword, even with the advancing technology. You always heard whispers of his real name but they were never loud enough to make it your ears.

You were given sword lessons as another class to keep you busy. ‘I always did want to try the sword’ was just a pathetic attempt at ignoring your ugly truth. You were only 10 when you figured that your parents were pushing you off on all these tutors in hope that they would keep you busy enough to stay away from them. You still remember feeling the love you had for your parents slipping through your fingers like sand. You had stopped throwing fits too, you began to try to hold your emotions closer to your heart. All of this is probably what made it so easy for you to get attached to the Dark knight.

Your first lesson was rough. You had been rudely awakened at an unfamiliar time and when you made it out to the training grounds you could only see slivers of light on the horizon. You were forced to clean your tools and even some of his. You complained but he only remained quiet watching you with a heavy eye. You kept your mouth shut after that, finishing without much more complaint.

When you finished, he made you run laps. You wanted to whine about it, but you remembered knowing it wouldn't do anything, so you ran. Lap after lap, you always felt his eyes on you no matter where you went. He remained silent unless it was to tell you to keep going. It wasn't until the sun had fully risen that he had made you stop, letting you get water. You couldn't help but be wreathing with anger as you sat drinking your water.

“Sword lesson my-” you began to whisper under your heavy breaths, until a warm gloved hand was placed atop of your head. You shot your head up to where the head came from. It was the Dark knight, without his helmet.

“Good job kid.” He looked at you in your eyes, you couldn't help but let your emotions slip for a moment. His eyes were so kind, but his face was worn. It was the face of a man who had led a hard life, but still had compassion for others. You gripped your water, you wanted him to say it again

You continued the lesson for another 2 hours but it felt too short for you. Even if he said you weren't ready for a sword, You couldn't wait for the next lesson.

That is how it started and would go for the next 6 years. Twice a week you would meet with him to learn, but every day you spent hours practicing to impress him at your next lesson. He and you had bonded, or so you thought. You learned his true name, Bruce Wayne. he let you call him by his name, you tried to offer him the same courtesy but he refused, it hurt you but you understood.

This was your way of life, this was the happiest you ever were. You thought you had the love you craved the most. You thought that.

It was your 16th birthday. You were meant to focus on the party that was held every year for you but there you were happily running over to the training grounds to see Bruce. Ever since you met him, he always had some form of present for you on your birthday. It was the only present you looked forward to every year.

You stopped at the entrance when you saw Bruce with two other people. Diana Prince and Clark Kent, they were commanders just like Bruce. You always saw them together when they were in the same room, but why were they meeting here today? They looked like it was a serious matter so you hid behind the stables.You crouched down and slowly crawled to the end of the stable closest to them to listen in. You thought maybe you could scare them, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of the previous time you tried to scare Bruce and failed.

“A week from today we will take the capital.” Bruce said matter of factly. You breathe hitched, you heard murmurs through the walls about a revolution, but you didn't think it was real. Much less Bruce was a part of it. “And arrest the royal family and their descents.” That isn’t when you broke, no you didn’t care if they did that.

“And we can finally return to our families.” Clark added. This is when you broke, the mental image you had created in your delusion, the image of Bruce seeing you as one of his kids, shattered into a million pieces right in front of you. You quietly got up, you acted faster than your mind could think.

You jumped out from behind the stables, “Boo!” you shouted, while you wore your best smile. They all flinched at your sudden appearance. Finally you got them. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.” You beamed while scratching the back of your head. They all looked at you in horror as you walked closer.

“How much did you hear, your highness?” Diana began reaching for her lasso on her hip, while trying to keep a pleasant expression.

“Nothing beyond something about going back to your families” You laughed. “ I assume you heard about the holiday I asked the king and Queen to give the troops after my birthday.” You could see as they relaxed, believing your words.

“Is there a reason you came here, your highness?” Clark stepped closer to give you a kind smile placing a hand on your shoulder, he always was kind to you even when you threw fits.

“I always stop by on my birthday.” You take a quiet glance at Bruce, with guilt flickering in his eyes. Y our heart sunk further into your chest. “I was saying hello to my teacher, before going on with my busy day.” You moved your eyes off of Bruce, and on to Clark. You tried to ignore his heavy gaze, your hands were shaking.

“Of course…” Clark and Diana look at Bruce. He gestured for them to leave. “Well Happy birthday, your highness.” Clark bowed before leaving, as did Diana. You watched them leave until they were out of sight. You clasped your hand together, the shaking stopping but your rate grew.

“Your highness,” Bruce’s soft voice boomed in your head . Bruce’s eyes weighed heavily on you, You were barely able to maintained eye contact. “I got you a gift.” He pulled out a small rectangle box wrapped in expansive sliver fabric with an extravagant white lace ribbon tied around it.

It was like every other year before, a small gift that meant the world to you. You, normally, would eagerly take it from him with the biggest grin, and opened it in front of him, thanking him no matter the gift. That year though, you hesitated, you didn’t give a wide grin, nor did you open it immediately.

“Thank you, Bruce.” You stared at the gift, playing with the white ribbon in your hand. “I really appreciate the gifts you have gotten me.” You sighed faintly. Bruce was stunted by this. “I hope you enjoy your time off with your family.” You let out a shaking breathe.

“What about your-” Bruce reached out to touch your shoulder, it was natural for the two of you.

“Don’t worry about lessons next week,” You grabbed his hand before he touched your shoulder “It’s fine if we miss a week. We alway have the after one, right?” you looked at him with a knowing look. He face dropped, he understood that you had heard more than you would say. “I hope to see you later Bruce.” You let go of his hand as you walked away from him leaving him behind in his silence.

You didn’t open that gift that day, even when you were in your room. You spent the rest of the day distracted. There were plenty of things you could’ve done about your impending arrest, but you also knew that would lead to Bruce's death. You didn’t want that, even if he only saw you as a royal, you still viewed him as someone would view their father. So you remained quiet.

The party came and went. It was the same as it always was, many gifts that were worth an average person's salary for ten years, and even proposal letters from noble families that wouldn’t matter in a week’s time. After that night you started to count down the days. Your memories of that week are blurry now, all of the days bleed into each other, until that day of the plan came.

You didn’t leave your room that day, even when you heard the screams of your family members. You waited, seated in a chair by the fire you had the servant light before going to bed. The box Bruce gave you is still unopened on your desk. You didn’t want to open it and pretend like everything was still the same.

You got up as you heard the soldiers get closer, opening every door along the way, until they reached your door. You opened the door before they could barge in. You came face to face with the helmet of The Dark knight. The blood of those who fought back dripped on the floor off of his suit. You step aside to let them in.

The Dark knight was the only one to step in, “Continue moving without me.” You tensed up as he ordered his subordinates to not follow him in. “Your highness-”

“There is no longer a need to address me like that.” You hummed, closing the door behind him. “After all, my heritage won’t matter by sunrise tomorrow.” You stood by the edge of your bed, looking out of the window.

The Dark knight was across the room from you, staying in front of the fireplace. You wouldn't meet his eyes, as he stared at you through his helmet. He looked around the room, he noticed the box on your desk still wrapped neatly. “You didn’t open it.” He picked up the box from the desk, and looked back at you.

“I thought it was inappropriate to open it, considering what was bound to happen.” You Pointed your head back down to the ground,

“You didn’t try to stop us.” He kept the box with him, and stepped closer to you.

“I couldn’t bring myself to,” You confessed, “I knew what it would lead to if I did.” Even then you couldn't bear the thought of him dying because of you.

“Do you understand why we are doing this?” He stopped two feet away from you, and took off his helmet. You wanted to see the face was making but you knew if you saw his face you couldn’t help but break all over again in front of him.

“Not fully,” You weakly replied “but I know that if you and the other commander are in on it then it is for the betterment of the world.” you clenched your hands. You tried to be mad at him but it was hindered by how you saw him. To you, you knew him as a man of justice, who wouldn’t needlessly create waves unless he saw necessary. You put your hands behind your back, intertwining them together.

The Dark Knight couldn’t understand you, but you knew what his thought was “I didn’t run because you taught me to stand with the side I chose, and by blood I am forced to choose this side.” You looked up from the floor finally. His face seemed almost desperate for a better answer, you could only return a sympathy nod with closed eyes.

The room remained silent for a moment, before you offered your wrist forward to make it easier to cuff them, he didn't. Instead he stepped behind you, guiding you out in front of the palace with a firm hand on your shoulder. You kept your eye forward ignoring the blood splattered across the floor and walls. The walk through the halls were eerie and quiet, they still haunt you to this day.

At the front of the palace each member in the royal house kneeled with their hands bound behind their backs, in rows separated from the servants. The Dark knight didn't seem to be guiding you to the royals until someone grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from him, you saw him for a short moment longer. Maybe if you weren't so tired you could've seen him reaching out for you as he was swarmed by his cohorts.

The soldier was much harsher compared to The Dark knight. They forced you down by your parents, who were bloody and bruised, they must've fought. Their heads hung low, they didn't even try to lift them up to look at you. You watched as Clark walked to stand center in front of palace residences.

“To the royal family, you are found guilty of tyranny and causing anguish to the lands of…” Clark went on about the endless sins your family and you by extension committed. “Now we will go down the line to give you your sentencing.”

You closed your eyes, listened to cries for mercy by the ones you assumed were to be put in prison for life and the quiet sobs of the ones who got less. Clark stopped when he passed you, You were the only one sitting up with free arms. He whispered something to the person following him, before moving on. two soldiers picked you by your arms from ground and brought you back into the palace.

You might've been more confused if you didn't pass out the moment they shoved you back into your room.

The weeks following after that there was a surgeon of royalist nobels trying to take back the monarchy, but they were swiftly dealt with each time they would arise according to the maids that would pass your room.. You spent those weeks confined to your room, at the former palace, you tried to ask why you weren't in the prison, but none of the guards standing outside of your room wouldn't reply.

It was 2 months later that you finally left your room to be brought in front of the new leaders of your country. Diana, Clark and Him. It was a small meeting with only you and the three of them.

“Tell us _, why do you think that you are here?” Diana spoke in a loud yet caring tone.

“I am here to finally receive my sentence.” You mumbled.

“No,” Clark interjected what would've evolved into a rant. “We are curious to know why you did nothing to stop the revelation.”

“I couldn't live with the consequences if I had stopped you.” You replied flatly.

“and those consequences would be, what?”

“The continued suffering of the country” they gestured for you to go on “and the loss of your lives.”

“And are you aware that means you betrayed the royal family?”Clark retorted. Bruce leaned forward.

“Yes.” You wanted it to be over already.

“Then you will not receive a sentence, but you will live under surveillance.” Clark stood up from his seat and offered you a hand. You took the hand, you could live under surveillance.

“Here at the… well whatever this was turned into.” You questioned, Clark shook his head no. “Then where?”

“With me.” Bruce finally spoke up. Your body ran cool, as a sinking feeling bloomed in your stomach. You would've been fine anywhere else but with him. You had no choice.

“Fine.” You looked away from him.

That day, your clothes, swords, and other trinkets were packed and off to Gotham where the now infamous Wayne manor resides. While you rode in front with Bruce in his Car. The ride was quiet, along with unpacking the car. You broke the silence to say thank you for help, before taking your belongings inside of the foyer. Serval people were waiting, but not for you.

“Who are you?” A boy, younger than you, glared as you stood there awkwardly holding you things. You were going to respond but Bruce came in behind you. “Father, who is this this person?” So these people were his kids.

“Damian, that is not how you greet someone.” oh. You heard of Damian when you and Bruce would take breaks from your sword lessons. He always liked talking about his family, there was even a point where you though maybe they could see you as family too, but not now. “I am _ _” You lowered your head already knowing what comes next.x .

“A member of that trantical family? Bruce, why are they here?” A boy, probably only a few years older than you, almost screeched.

“I will explain it later, Tim” Bruce took your things from you and tried to push past them, only to be blocked by a girl around the same age as time. “Cassandra please move.

“No, we need to know now.” Damian demanded, as him and Tim cornered Bruce with Cassandra.

“Alfred,” Alfred, who was standing off the side came forward and took your things back from Bruce. “Take them to their new room.”

“Of course Master Bruce.” Alfred turned to you “Please, follow me this way.” He smiled politely. Your arms tense as the You followed behind quietly, walking up the stairs to 3rd floor, back into the furthest corner of the house, the perfect reflection of the distance between you and Your new household.

[why-i-love-comics]

Absolute Batman #1 (2024)

written by Scott Snyder art by Nick Dragotta & Frank Martin

[eupheme]

k03. submission + restraints | in your hands

alfred pennyworth x f!reader

rated e - 2.7k

tags: sub!(and bossy)alfred vibes, use of alcohol, established relationship, references to stress/stress relief, restraints, teasing, oral sex (f rec), PiV, aftercare

When Alfred confesses he’s having trouble getting his mind off his work, you’re all too happy to lend a hand.

The Tower is dark when you get there.

Following the low hum of plucked jazz notes through the hall, until you find Alfred in his study - fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

Eyes screwed shut. His other hand grasping the rim of a half-drunk scotch.

You know he works hard. Too hard - have seen the dark shadows under his eyes. Your bed empty when you wake in the morning for far too many days in a row.

How much he does for Bruce. For you. Always putting himself last, as he works his knuckles to the bone.

Cracked and bleeding, and he still won’t say a word.

“Hi, baby,” Your voice is soft, from the doorway, “Long day?”

His eyes flutter open at the sound of your voice. Smile soft, as he sets the glass down on the side table, lined up neatly on the coaster.

“Something like that.”

You can see the weariness in his face, as you slip onto the seat next to him. Meeting into the press of your lips as you greet him, letting loose a long-held sigh.

“Glad to see you, darling.”

“Me too.” You smile, “Any way I can help?”

The look he gives you is soft, a hand dropping to squeeze against your thigh.

“I don’t think so, love. I need to step away, actually.” He sighs, “But I just can’t ever seem turn it off. For better or for worse.”

Thick fingers tap against his temple. You place a kiss there, and he leans into your touch with a stifled groan.

“Keep seeing things I need to do. Things I never have enough time for.”

Your lips brush his cheek, right at the edge where his stubble is scraped clean, “Think you need to rest. You’re pushing too hard.”

His eyebrows raise. Another sip of his drink. The soft smack of lips with him hum, something close to a half-hearted smile, “Think I’m far too old to be learning new tricks, darling.”

There’s a dozen instances on the tip of your tongue that would prove that statement wrong.

Instead, your head cocks - considering.

You’d been sitting on a partially-solved puzzle for weeks.

Something about the way Alfred’s posture had straightened when you first met, when Bruce assured you that butler would “see to your every need.”

The way his eyes dropped too quickly from yours, after - the blush that began at his ears, rose-petal pink. Caught and stamped down before it reached his cheeks.

Of course, it hadn’t meant anything - an acknowledgement to his role of seeing over the Manor.

But it had been there again - months later. The way his hips had flexed hard into the mattress as your fingers tugged on slicked-back curls.

The pleads for “more” and “harder” turning sharp as your orgasm had rushed towards you. His fingers pinching into your skin with your command, as he all but groaned into your messy cunt.

All too eager to please.

Maybe he just wanted - needed - a firm hand.

Maybe it could be yours.

You wish you had your own drink, to steel your nerves. A breath that you hold for a heartbeat, before your asking.

“I could do that for you.” It comes out hushed.

“Show you how to turn off.”

His eyes flick to yours. Silent consideration. Curiosity sparking, in the sharp chips of blue.

Not an outright denial, leading you to babble, “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before.”

The look in his eyes when you ride him. Head tipped back against the pillows. Unable to help bucking into you, fingers pinching hard enough to bruise. Handing over the reigns a little too eagerly.

Desperation edging into his tone, when he begs you to come for him.

That look simmers in his gaze, now. Head tilting towards yours, letting you close the gap. A soft hum when your mouth slants against his. Lips parting when your tongue licks at his lip.

A rough groan, when you deepen it.

Leaning into him, his torso twisting as your hands wander - a palm against his chest. The other at his jaw, feeling the way the tight tension in his neck loosens.

“Don’t have to do anything you don’t want, baby.” You murmur, against his lips - as if he wasn’t still deadly, sharpened steel wrapped in silk, “But if, if you want this-”

“Yes.” It’s hushed.

It’s permission - your eyes dark, hungry, when you lean back. A curve of your lips, almost surprised at how quickly he answers.

“You’re going to listen to me?” You clarify.

Alfred is a stubborn man. Cleverer than most. Set in his ways - used to being in charge, even if you can see through the cracks.

“Going to be good for me?”

His jaw grits. The heave of his chest against the tight vest. Your fingers still resting above his heart. There’s a jerk of his chin - you can feel it against your lips, as they press to his jaw.

“Words, Alfred.”

There’s a sharp inhale at his name. You rarely use it. Soft sentiments have worked their way into your vocabulary over the last few weeks. It slams into him, his voice going low and rough.

“Yes, darling.”

Heat curls inside you. A considering look, when you lean back. Fingers tracing over his neat uniform - that crisp, white shirt. The tidy vest. A black tie, fastened at his throat.

“Do you like this tie?” Your fingers hook around the knot, gently tugging, “I mean, would you be upset if I wrinkled it?”

Alfred fingers twitch. Torn between loosing it himself, and keeping his hands somewhere more interesting. Tracing along your legs, the curve of your hips.

“You may do as you like.” He husks, “With all of me.”

His words make your thighs press together. Already damp from his mouth against yours. Fingers working the fabric free, twisting around your fingers as you consider.

“Wrists together.”

He’s obedient, in the way they touch behind his back. A beat, before you bind him.

“You trust me?”

It’s a loaded question. The amount of times Alfred has allowed himself to be vulnerable in the years after he became Bruce’s guardian could be counted on one hand.

His voice is low, rough, as he answers.

“Always.”

There’s the flex of his muscles as you twine the tie around. You can hear his inhale - swallowing words down twice. Lips curving, so certain he’s prepared to offer his thoughts.

Advice on how to tie better knots - ones to properly restrain him - instead of the pretty ones you make.

Thinking better of it, for you.

He shivers, when your lips press against his bound wrists. When you loop the ends into a bow, tugging them straight.

“Pretty.” You hum, leaning back.

Already thinking of some improvements. Admiring the pulled-back flex of his shoulders. The dark glitter of his eyes, below the severe brow.

“Bedroom, I think.”

There’s a divan at the foot of the bed that you’re already picturing a use for,

He follows, allowing your hand to rest on his arm for balance. Testing the bindings with your fingertips, as he follows you through the conjoined door, into his room.

There’s a folded blanket on the arm that you lay out in front of the couch. He kneels without asking, and it sends a thrill up your spine. Settling yourself in front of him on the cushion, legs spreading on either side of his hips.

“I want your mouth on me.” You tell him, trying to set the tone.

The edge of his lips pull up, “You’re wearing a bit too much for that, darling.”

“Already talking back?” Your brow arches, “I thought a good little solider like you would want to listen.”

His eye darken, focused on how you work the sweater from your shoulders. Folding it slowly, setting it beside you on the couch.

“Haven’t been a solider in a long time.”

“A butler, then.” You coo - his eyes fixed on your chest. Tracing the pretty lace as he waits. The slight crease in his brow when your fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings, instead.

“You’ll tend to my every need, right? It’s your duty, after all.”

He can see where the fabric dampens between your thighs. No answer, except for the rough exhale of his breath. The flex of his shoulders, a reminder that he can’t touch you the way he wants.

Those eyes greedy, when you lean forward to work on him next. Carefully unfastening his vest. Working each mother of pearl button loose, until his shirt hangs open at his chest.

Hips shifting, when you loosen his belt. Leaning into the way you palm him. Not expecting how hard he is already, straining against the expensive trousers.

A stifled groan as you work him free. Letting his cock rest against the pushed down fabric of his boxers, cradled in the deep dip of the open zipper.

Exposed, to your view.

“There we go,” You hum, voice low. Admiring.

A finger traces along his shaft, his cock bobbing beneath your touch. His jaw gritting, to bite back a plea as you settle back against the couch. Your panties tugged down your thighs, laid on top of the pile of clothing where he can see them.

Alfred leans forward when you finally rest against the back, but your hand presses against his shoulder.

“Impatient,” Your tongue clicks. Fingers catching his chin, thumb smoothing across his beard.

Two fingers against his lower lip, with the twist of your hand.

“Open.”

His lips part automatically. A rough groan buzzes against the pads of your fingers. You don’t even have to tell him to suck - his eyes already closed. Another shift of his hips, rutting into air.

The pinch of teeth when you withdraw, as if to keep you for another moment. Another rough sound, when you fit those fingers between your thighs, instead of letting him taste you like he wants.

Biting back a soft sigh, as your fingers circle against slick flesh. Thighs inching wider as he shifts closer.

“You’re teasing me?” He husks, eyes narrowing.

“Distracting you.” You hum, “Are you thinking about work?”

He groans - a sharp, sideways jerk of his chin.

“Thinking about your pretty cunt, darling.” It’s almost a growl, ”You said you wanted my mouth, yes?”

Your hips lift into your touch.

“Then let me use it.” He coaxes, that rough edge pitching into need.

A beat, as you consider. The slow shift of your hips, as you angle them at the edge of the couch. He’s already leaning forward - your foot lifting to press against his thigh to halt him.

“I want you in me after,” You tell him, “So you don’t get to come until I say.”

He moans, and the second your foot shifts his head so he can tongue at your clit. Something ragged mumbled out - a “thank you” that’s drowned out by your own cry.

Open-mouthed kisses pressed against your pussy. Devouring you greedily, making up for the lack of his fingers with the way his tongue dips inside you.

Groaning into you, when he tastes how wet you are.

Unable to help the flex of his hips. Panting, when your fingers twist into his hair. Mussing the tidy strands, when you guide him to where you need.

You know what it’s like - his effect on you, how you’re putty in his hands.

How he leans into yours now, unaware of the way his cock drools. The string that drips from him, how his length jerks each time your fingers tighten in his hair.

But you notice. You see how far gone he is. The pretty haze in his eyes.

“You close already, baby?” You coo, “Want me to touch you?”

“No,” His chest heaves, as he draws back for a breath, “Don’t deserve it, need to make you come first.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to argue. To tell him that he deserves that, and more. That you’d give him everything.

But you think he must need this.

An edge creeps into your tone, soft and commanding.

“Then make me come.”

Your words shoot through him. A ragged groan when your thigh hooks over his shoulder.

All his attention narrowing down to the flick of his tongue against your clit. To the sound of your breath, every little hitch of your hips. Everything that tells him what you need.

Knowing just how to bring you over the edge. Leaning into the words that slide from you, the praise slipping over his skin.

“Fuck, right there.” You whine, “Gonna make me come, baby. So good for me-”

He keeps the exact pace you need - your breath growing short, as your orgasm crashes over you.

Riding the high of doing this for him. His sweet submission, that eagerness that rolls off him in waves. That knowledge that if you hadn’t told him not to, he would have spilled all over the floor some time ago.

The bliss courses through you, hips bucking into his tongue. Alfred doesn’t stop, until your hands find his jaw, gently easing him from you. The pleasure still throbbing deep inside - almost aching from the way he drew it out.

He has been good.

Intent on pleasing you. Needing it, but every man has his limits, and this is his - tasting you, while being bound like this.

Trying so hard to hold himself back. To listen, to ignore that deep clench in his belly. That urge to shift forward, to rut himself against the fabric of the couch until he’s spilling against him.

He can taste you on his lips. You’re smeared across his chin, against the dark bristles of his beard.

“That was so good, honey.” It comes out breathless. His lips part with the praise, knees pressing into the blanket as his thighs shift wider.

“Come here.” You coo - fingers against his chin again.

Drawing him up to you, your mouth meeting his as he kneels. Tugging him closer, “Wanna feel you come for me. You can do that, right?”

His moan comes out ragged.

You have to guide him into you. Reaching between down to line him up - he sinks into you the second he feels the tight clutch of your pussy around him.

Losing himself, in the way his hips jerk forward. Pushing himself deep, hips pumping as his arms strain against the binding.

Unable to touch you the way he’d like, and it drives him mad - head bowed as he watches the way you take him, again and again.

Could try to make you come again, and he wants to - that urge burning through him. Almost begging you in hushed tones, wanting to feel you one last time.

“Make it up to me later.” You tell him, and when your leg hooks around his hip to drive him deeper - that last bit of control slips through his fingers.

He’s coming with a ragged moan on his next thrust. Pleasure still ripples inside you - and the way he comes undone so quickly send another wave rushing through you.

His hips stuttering as his muscles string tight. Lips parted, grunting as he throbs inside you. The stress sloughing off, the pleasure turning him mindless.

Only aware of the tight, warm grip of your pussy around him. The sloppy drive of his cock, as his thrusts grow shallow. Trying to keep himself buried deep as he comes.

There’s still the sharp pinch of the tie around his wrists. Still holding him at your mercy, a place that he puts himself willingly.

Eagerly.

He’s always been yours.

Alfred is boneless against you. Lips parted as he pants, a warning sound when you try to slip free.

You stay another minute - pressed full of him. Kisses pressed to his cheek, his temple, as your hands slip behind. Loosening that knot.

Guiding him onto the bed when he finally lets you rise. Carefully tugging off his clothes.

Smoothing lotion onto his wrists - he’ll have to keep his sleeves rolled down tomorrow, with how hard he tugged on his bindings.

Lips pressing against his pulse, his limbs still limp in your grasp.

“Still worrying about work?” You ask softly.

He stirs then. A low chuckle.

“Actually,” There’s the curve of lips, a tired smile.

“I’m not thinking about anything at all.”

thank you for reading! 💖