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denaliwrites · 6 months

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Never Fallen From Quite This High

Martin Whitly x GN!Reader

Catch and Release Prompt: "Loyalty"

Summary: You didn't mean for this to happen... but you couldn't let him hurt Martin.

Soundtrack: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Murder.

"Oh, my dear," Martin says softly as he creeps closer to you. He's keeping his voice quiet and his body low so as not to startle you, though you can't quite figure out why. You've been sat on your haunches now for what feels like hours. "What have you done?"

The question confuses you. He seemingly notices this, as he releases a quiet, placating shushing sound, almost as if by instinct. "It's okay," he tells you gently, shuffling ever closer. "You're okay."

Finally he reaches you, kneels down in front of you and takes your hands in his. It's only then, as he pries it from your fingers, that you realize you'd been holding a knife. "That's it," he murmurs, giving you a small, tense smile. "There you go." He drops it far from your reach, somewhere behind him where you can't see it. See the dried blood coating it.

"Hey, now," he coos, as he carefully manipulates your head, tilting it this way and that. "Look at me, darling?" His eyes are concerned, examining you like he thinks he'll suddenly find a grievous injury. But you're unharmed.

Next, he shifts your head so that you're facing him directly, and he's looking into your eyes, but you can see there's little emotion there. His mind is purely medical at the moment.

"Traumatic shock," he says to himself as his gaze dances from one eye to the other, noting the vacant look and blown pupils. "Darling, can you hear me?"

"H-he--"

"Ssshh, darling. Simple answers for now. Yes or no. Please."

"He--he was--he--"

Martin sighs as you babble. You struggle to get the words out, and he simply watches you with concern as disjointed syllables spill from your lips, until you finally string them all together and say, "he was going to kill you."

He looks down, taking note of the bloody body he'd had to step over to get to you. When he turns back to look at you, his eyes are softer. "Darling," he sighs, pulling you forward to place a gentle kiss to your bloodstained forehead. "You know I'd never let that happen."

"H-he -- he was... he was gonna kill you," you insist, voice raising, tinted with building panic.

Martin pulls you into a kiss, his lips crushing yours and stealing your breath and chasing away all other thoughts. Any words you're about to release in a torrential flood are diverted, lost to those devastating lips.

The kiss is the shock you need to bring you back -- at least, enough to really see him. To remember where you are, what you've done. Your eyes trail down to the body as Martin holds you close, one hand at the back of your neck and the other stroking your hair.

"I-I-I--" you stammer, tears springing to your eyes as you look down.

"Sssshhh," he hushes you gently, his hold on you tightening.

"I killed -- M-Martin, I killed someone..."

"I know, darling," he whispers in your ear. "I know. Don't worry. I'm here now."

You whimper, burying your face into his shoulder so that you can't see the corpse anymore.

"I'll take care of it," Martin continues, his hand now working to rub comforting circles into your back. "I'll make sure that you were never here, understand?"

#martin whitly x reader #martin whitly x you #prodigal son fic #prodigal son fanfiction #michael sheen #catch and release prompt

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artemisthewh0re · 5 months

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I'm finishing up my last requests but I've started watching the Prodigal Son recently and it's so good! I now have the urge to get discreetly destroyed by Dr. Whitley while Mr. David isn't looking 😁

@mullyvrfx on tik Tok

#prodigal son #martin whitley #dr martin whitley #malcolm bright #prodigal son fic

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make-me-imagine · 2 years

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Locked In

13 Days of Halloween: Day 7

Plot: When you and Malcolm agree to help Jessica prepare for her Halloween party, the two of you end up getting locked in the creepy attic together.

Pairing: Malcolm Bright x Gn!reader

Warnings: None~ (except for a somewhat heated kiss towards the end)

Words: 2.5k

A/N: I saw the prompt 'Person A and Person B get locked in a creepy attic together on Halloween.' on a list by @olicitytropes and it inspired this; hope you don't mind me using it~

You looked around the large familiar house, noting the change in curtains and flowers to match the holiday, and Jessica's upcoming Halloween fundraiser party.

"Y/n, Malcolm! I'm glad you could make it!" Jessica said cheerfully as she met you and Malcolm in the foyer.

"I didn't think I had a choice." Malcolm said with light sarcasm.

"You didn't dear. But Y/n did." She said with a big smile as she looped her arm through yours "Which makes them my favorite, because they chose to come anyway."

You smiled at Malcolm over your shoulder and stuck your tongue out at him, as you walked further into the house. Malcolm shook his head in amusement as he followed.

"Ainsley is already here, which means she gets to come with me to the store. You two are on attic duty."

"Attic duty?" Malcolm asked, a change in his tone obvious.

"Yes, that's where the boxes of Halloween decorations are."

You looked up "I guess it makes since this place has an attic, I just never thought about it." You said softly before looking over at Malcolm.

"I never go in there, it's creepy." He said motioning is hands.

"Well you have no choice now." Ainsley said as she walked into the room. She met your eyes "Though I do feel bad for you having to go up there."

"Attics don't bother me as much as basements" You commented casually.

"Good! Don't worry, the attic isn't that creepy, Malcolm just doesn't like it because he got locked in there once when he was a kid. Tried to blame it on a ghost."

You looked over at Malcolm who nodded "The door closed by itself. And I was left in there for seven hours."

"Seven hours?" You asked with widened eyes.

He walked up to you, lowering his voice "No one can hear you scream up there."

Jessica smacked him on the arm before she looked over at you "It's fine, just make sure you keep the door propped open!"

"Right. Just keep the door propped open."

"Exactly!"

You looked over at Malcolm who just smiled and shook his head softly. Not long later, the two of you made your way upstairs as Jessica and Ainsley left the house.

"Do I even want to know how many boxes we're gonna have to drag all the way down here?"

"Probably not." He replied as you stopped beneath the attic stairwell.

Looking up the small darkened staircase at the red door, you hummed. "Never mind, that is very creepy."

Slowly making your way into the attic, you let out a small breath of relief as you looked around the fairly clean room. There was only one small, tinted window that let in very little light, leaving most of the room in darkness.

Malcolm pushed a small doorstop underneath the door before he turned to look into the attic. "Smaller than I remember."

"Most things are after you grow up." You commented softly as you flipped the light switch on.

The old light-bulb buzzed on, and sent a yellow-orange glow throughout the room.

Walking over to some boxes that had 'HALLOWEEN' written on it, you patted them.

"At least we don't have to search for them."

Malcolm walked over to the other side of the attic, and tapped some more "There are at least twenty in here"

"Its a big house."

"And she insists every room must have some form of decoration for her parties."

Picking up a mildly heavy box you turned towards Malcolm "I better get an invite if I have to do all this."

He smirked "You want to attend a Halloween party with a bunch of rich lawyers, accountants and white-collar criminals?"

You paused for a moment "Will there be food?"

He chuckled "Yeah, a lot."

You hummed as you left the attic "Might be worth it then."

-----

Letting out a sigh as you stomped back up the stairs into the attic for the fifth time, you looked at the dozen boxes still left.

"Never mind, invite or not, this is not worth it."

Malcolm stopped beside you as he nodded his head and let out a breath. Making your way back towards the boxes, you stopped as you heard a scratching sound. Looking at each other, you heard a loud creaking, you both recognized to be the sound of a door.

Your eyes widened in sync as you both spun around, to see the attic door quickly sliding closed.

You and Malcolm both rushed as fast as you could to catch it. But it slammed closed, just before you reached it. From the other side, you heard the doorstop bounce down the steps.

Malcolm grabbed the door handle, twisting and turning the knob as he pushed and pulled. As the door refused the budge, he looked back at you and shook his head.

You let out a sigh "Your mom and Ainsely wont be gone long right?"

"They went shopping. They could be gone for days." He said with a deafeated tone.

"Well, I know something you probably didn't have when you got locked in here the first time." He rose his brow as you reached into your pocket. "A phone."

Malcolm nodded his head in realization as he also took his out. You frowned as you read 'no signal'. Trying to use your data, but failing, you looked over a Malcolm. Meeting your gaze he shook his head.

"What is the attic made out of, layers of steal? Even my data isn't working."

Malcolm sighed as he walked over to the widow, trying to open it, before attempting to use his phone again. "Nothing. There must be something up here interfering with it."

"Great...so what do we do now?"

"We could talk about the fact that the door should not have closed, and that this is the second time that has happened!"

"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts?"

He lifted his arms up in defeat "Well I might now."

You let out a chuckle as you sat down on an old chair. "Or it's an old, heavy door Malcolm."

Malcolm shrugged his head as he walked over and sat down in the chair beside you. "Old door or ghosts, we're stuck."

You sighed and nodded your head. "Yup."

As an hour turned into two, and longer, you rifled through another box of decorations out of boredom, you pulled out a large fake spider. Turning it over, you saw a switch. Getting an idea, you glanced over at Malcolm, who was staring down at his phone, and set the spider on the ground. Silently, you switched it on, and watched as the large spider ran towards Malcolm.

Hearing the noise, Malcolm glanced over, letting out a yelp of surprise as he almost fell out of his chair.

As you began to laugh, Malcolm let out a deep breath and shook his head as he attempted to repress his own smile. "Very funny."

"Thank you, thank you." You said with a soft chuckle and fake bow.

Malcolm picked up the spider and turned it off, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure this is the same thing Ainsley used to put in my bed to scare me."

You grinned at this as you began looking through the box some more.

Suddenly hearing a loud bang on the opposite wall, you flinched, as your head snapped towards the sound. Glancing at Malcolm, who looked alarmed as well, turned to meet your gaze.

"Rat?" You asked.

He shrugged his head "Maybe."

Hearing a scraping sound, following by a thud, the two of you stared at the part of the attic engulfed in darkness.

Slowly, Malcolm made his way over, shining his phone into the darkness. You watched in anticipation as he reached behind a box before lifting up an old photo frame.

"Yeah, that's not creepy at all."

Setting it back down he began walking over to you, but stopped when the attic light flickered off.

There was an almost deafening silence for a moment before you stood up. Turning on his phone again, Malcolm walked to the light switch, flicking it up and down, but the light stayed out.

"That's just a creepy coincidence right?"

Walking back over to you, you could just see Malcolm's expression as he nodded "Yeah. Just a creepy coincidence."

As he stopped in front of you, a loud clattered bang came from the dark side of the attic again, as a box toppled over. Gasping as you gripped onto Malcolm's arm, you turned towards the noise.

Malcolm, quickly turning on his phones flashlight, shined the light at the box, and then around the attic.

"Okay. Maybe the attic is haunted." You said in a whisper.

"Told you." He whispered back.

Walking over to the box, you stayed latched onto his arm. Attempting to push the box with his foot, he shook his head "That's way to heavy for a rat to knock over."

You tugged on his arm "Let's go sit by the window where there's some light."

Malcolm glanced over at you, just now realizing how close you were. "Alright." He said softly as you made your way to the window.

You both sat down in your chairs, eyes darting around the attic, both of you expecting something else to happen.

"Talk." You mumbled.

Malcolm looked over at you "What?"

"Talk, so I don't freak out."

"Oh. Okay, uhm....the first year I was allowed to pick my own costume, I wanted to dress as Seymour Krelborn."

You paused for a moment "The guy from Little Shop of Horrors?"

"Yeah. And I tried to convince my parents to dress Ainsley as Audrey II"

"Audrey....the giant plant monster?"

"Yeah.."

You let out a soft chuckle "Did they?"

He nodded and smiled "My mom refused at first, but I finally got my way."

You smiled at him and shook your head as you peered around the attic, still weary. Malcolm continued to watch you.

The two of you were seated next to each other, knee's touching. You were no longer holding onto him out of fear, but your hands were close. He was tempted to take yours in his.

As a car horn sounded outside on the street, you flinched lightly, barely enough to notice. But he did.

"How is such a bad-ass cop so afraid right now?" He asked with a hint of amusement.

You looked over at him "I don't do ghosts. Ghosts aren't tangible like people, I can't shoot them if they're trying to hurt me."

Malcolm chuckled "I'll protect you from the ghost."

You rolled your eye's lightly "Oh yeah, how would you do that?"

"Well. I believe that if ghosts are real, they only have power you give them through being afraid and wanting, or expecting them to show their presence."

"Sooo, you're saying, if I'm not afraid or don't think about them being real, they can't hurt me?"

"Right."

"Well. It was you who put the idea of ghosts in the attic in my head in the first place. So, really, this is your fault?"

Malcolm paused for a moment as a slow smile crossed his face "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Well then, the least you can do is distract me so I stop being afraid."

Your eyes were locked with his, as you smiled, he smiled in return, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a split second.

Hearing a loud thud, you let out a soft gasp. But before you could turn your head to investigate the sound of the noise, you felt Malcolm's hands grasp your face, before his lips pressed against yours.

The kiss seemed eager and rushed, before it became soft and gentle, and then it was over.

As Malcolm pulled away from you, you met his eyes. You were clearly still bewildered, as you muttered out.

"Why did you do that?"

"I was distracting you."

"From the ghosts?"

"Yes."

Malcolm's hands were still on your face as he spoke softly. He had a faint smile on his lips, and he couldn't seem to stop his eyes from flicking to your lips again.

"Sorry. I should have asked first." He said softly as he pulled his hands away.

Your heart was racing, and your ears were burning hot. You shook your head lightly.

"It's okay. It worked, you distracted me." You laughed lightly. "And besides, I- I would have said yes, if you'd asked." Your voice got a little quieter as you spoke, your ears burning.

Malcolm repressed a grin "You would have?"

You nodded and met his eyes "Yeah."

Leaning in a little closer, his eyes fell to your lips briefly. "Then, can I kiss you again?"

You smiled softly as you leaned in a bit as well "Yeah."

Meeting in a soft kiss, Malcolm's hand cupped your face again as you brought your own hand up to his face as well.

Suddenly, hearing a rough bang, as the attic door shook violently, you and Malcolm pulled away from each other with alarmed gasps.

Another bang against the door was followed by the door swinging opening with a loud creaking groan.

Seeing Gil stumble into the room, having forced the door open with his shoulder, you and Malcolm stared at him in confusion.

"Gil?" Malcolm asked with breathy bewilderment.

He nodded at the two of you as he looked around the attic "Hey."

"Hi." You and Malcolm said in unison, as Jessica came into the attic as well.

"Oh thank God, are you two alright? Why didn't you answer any of my messages or calls."

You and Malcolm lifted your phones up a the same time as he spoke "No signal up here."

"Oh. Well, what happened to keeping the door propped open?"

"I'm guessing they tried." Ainsley's voice cold be heard as she appeared a moment later behind Jessica, doorstop in hand.

"Heavy door." You said, glancing at Malcolm briefly.

"Well, I'm glad you two are okay. Once we got back, I saw the boxes down stairs, I thought you two must have finished and gone somewhere, then I couldn't get a hold of you."

"So you called Gil."

"Yes." They said in unison.

"Well, now that that's all over-" Jessica turned and patted Gil's shoulder "You can finish helping with the boxes."

"Wait, what? I'm on duty Jessica, I'm not here-" His voice was perplexed as he began to follow her and Ainsley out, their voices fading as they left.

As the door began to close, you and Malcolm both rushed forward, grabbing it before you got locked in again. Your eyes locked as you smiled in amusement.

After closing the attic door lightly, you left together, heading down the stairs. Halfway down, Malcolm slipped his hand into yours, looking over at him, you shared knowing looks and smiles.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard three loud knocks on the attic door. Your eyes locked before you turned and looked back up the stairs at the closed door.

Malcolm squeezed your hand lightly before you both raced away as fast as you could, knowing neither of you were going back in that room.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @imaginesfire, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Prodigal Son/Malcolm Taglists: @spuffyfan394, @locke-writes, @malindacath, @cosplayingwitch, @starship-argo

Requested Taglist: @le-green-lion

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bibright · 1 year

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Hiraeth Noun A Welsh word with no direct English translation. Hiraeth has been likened to homesickness tinged with grief and sadness over the lost and departed. A longing for one's homeland, or a romanticized past with a yearning for it to come back.

A character study. A bildungsroman. An answer to the question as to how Malcolm Bright survived.

#prodigal son #malcolm bright #prodigal son fic #jessica whitly #martin whitly #my writing #hiraeth

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locke-writes · 2 years

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The Ties That Bind

Author: locke-writes

Title: The Ties That Bind

Song: Killer In the Mirror - Set It Off, with Martin Whitly For: Anonymous

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,111

Tag List: @multifandomfix / ask to be added

Warnings: Blood, Torture, Murder

Killing was a master craft that Martin Whitly excelled in, but this wasn't the only one. Ever since he was a boy he'd been able to manipulate anyone into doing anything he asked. When he was younger he used this talent only to succeed in what might further his education, then after college, to get himself into the best medical school. His ability to manipulate anyone was part of the reason it was so easy to kill, because it was so easy to get his victims to trust him.

Due to the variety in the way that he'd killed his victims there were plenty who had gone unconnected for a period of time before Martin's arrest. He enjoyed pain, enjoyed seeing how much the human body could take and the most efficient of ways to deliver it while ending a persons life. Experimentation required many test subjects. That's what he'd viewed the killings as. Experiments to further his own research, habits from being a doctor, from being a medical student. You were one of those experiments.

He'd wanted to know how the idea of the pain that a person would feel influenced the actual pain that was to come. Martin made you watch as he tortured another person, made you watch while he killed another victim on a surgical table that he'd set up. Martin wanted to kill you, that was the entire plan in his mind, and yet the way you watched him work he understood what you were feeling. Bloodlust. You felt no pain watching the death occur before you, rather you felt a sort of twisted pleasure.

At first he was reluctant to untie you, to remove the cloth that bound your mouth so that you were unable to speak. Primitive methods but effective ones that needed to be used. At first he was reluctant to show you what he had done, yet his mind was changed when you did not fight, when you sat patiently waiting for what was next. Then you begged, pleaded with him as he removed the gag allowing you to speak your wishes freely rather than through glances at the body which was between the two of you.

The wishes that you shared were not to be set free, they were to work alongside him. Martin was not sure that he wished to be a mentor although he claimed that he would consider it. You understood his desire to work alone and waited for him to call you at the number that you provided. What he was doing is what you had dreamed of and yet never had the courage to do so. Perhaps with his guidance you might overcome this dear of being caught, this fear of wrong doing that prevented you from the potential you knew could be fulfilled.

Martin had no real intention of calling you, he'd made that decision as soon as you walked through the door. Truly he was meant to always work alone he believed. It didn't take long for you to realize he didn't take you seriously, that he thought you might have either been playing into some fantasy of his in an order to be free or that you just couldn't commit to what you were going to be taught to do. He needed to be shown that you wanted this, that you had been speaking the truth when you asked him.

When the knife ran through skin it was as though something unlocked within you. You recognized your technique was sloppy which was why you wanted to learn. It had been easier than you anticipated to get someone to trust you enough, to be alone with you long enough that you could kill them. You made sure you knew how to keep your DNA from being found on the scene and made the body up to look like how you had been tied up when you were captured. You hoped this would be enough of a hint for Martin to recognize that this was a gift to him, a way of saying that you were still interested in being what might be considered his protege.

He knew the body was for him although he took a few days to call. He'd wanted the media sensation to die down, wanted to keep from having another body appear right after your own kill. Truly he was impressed that you'd gone through so much effort to get him to notice you, to acknowledge you for what you were. Another killer, another mind with much the same desire as himself. Martin arranged a meeting and from then on there was a kinship.

For weeks the two of you worked side by side, choosing victims and killing them in turn. Martin often would walk you through the procedures that he'd wanted done, observing to see effectiveness of methods and to register the length of time an unskilled hand took in some of the more detailed dissections. The credit was to be all his, you knew this from the start. Having the killings be done in his methods it was only obvious that you would fade into the background. You hadn't anticipated this being a blessing.

His arrest was learned about through the news like everyone else. Part of you was relieved that you could stop the killing through his eyes and start working on the killings through your own. Part of you was worried that Martin would attempt to pin everything on you if he implicated you in the murders at all. Of course it wouldn't make sense as all the killings were the work of someone with a skilled medical background, something in which you did not possess.

You avoided the news for weeks while the trial was going on. You waited for the police to come to your door but none came, life moved on. It took time before you found the courage to see Martin again, you questioned if he'd even want to see you but you were permitted a visit anyway. His room was unlike all the others, more privileges given to him than should have been granted with what he'd done. Even so it was nice to see him virtually unchanged by what had felled him.

Visits were occasional, never any sort of pattern to the frequency that would cause alarm. Each time the same phrase had been uttered to him before you left. To anyone who watched the conversations it was innocent, yet between you and Martin there was the underlying meaning that everything would be normal once more.

"It was nice seeing you. I hope we can continue all of this again."

#locke writes #martin whitly #prodigal son #martin whitly fic #prodigal son fic #martin whitly fanfic #prodigal son fanfic #martin whitly oneshot #prodigal son oneshot #martin whitly imagine #prodigal son imagine

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shineonmalcolmbright · 1 year

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Fandoms: Prodigal Son (TV 2019), The Shining - Stephen King, The Shining (1980)

Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly

Characters: Malcolm Bright, Martin Whitly, Jessica Whitly, Ainsley Whitly, Paul Lazar | John Watkins, Gil Arroyo, Dani Powell, Edrisa Tanaka, The Overlook Hotel, Sophie Sanders | The Girl in the Box

Additional Tags: Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Protective Gil Arroyo, Inspired by The Shining, Sibling Bonding, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Bad Parent Martin Whitly, Malcolm Bright Whump

Chapters: 50/50

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24602095?view_full_work=true

#prodigal son #malcolm bright #shineonbrightfic #the shining #prodigal son fic #malcolm bright whump #whump fic #ghosts #gil arroyo #john lazar #completed

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unorthodoxsavvy · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 11: "911, What's Your Emergency?"

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Hi," Malcolm breathed, "how are you?"

"I'm fine sir, what's the address of your emergency?"

Malcolm looked around.

"Um, I'm not sure."

"And will you be needing fire, medical, or police?"

"Medical is fine. I am the police."

"And what is your emergency?"

Malcolm looked down at himself.

"My insides are trying to escape."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm bleeding out."

"From where?"

"My organs. In the stomach region. Specifically my right and left lumbar regions and my umbilical regions. I took anatomy in college. I'm not exactly sure which organs of mine are spilling out right now but I would hazard a guess that it's at least my small intestine-"

The 911 operator cut him off.

"Alright sir, I just need you to apply pressure to your wound until help can arrive. What's your name?"

"Bright, Malcolm Bright."

"And you said you were a police officer?"

"Sort of."

"Is there anyone I can contact for you?"

"Gil Aroyo of the NYPD. Man he's gonna be so pissed at me."

"Alright Malcolm, just hold on. Can you tell me anything about where you are right now?"

Malcolm could hear her clacking away on her keyboard as he scanned his surroundings again.

"I'm in a dark room with a dingy light. I don't know how I got here. I assume I was taken by van."

"Do you have anything around you that can help identify your location?"

"Give me one sec."

Malcolm pulled the phone away from his ear and pulled up his weather app.

"It says I'm somewhere in Rochester."

"Alright, I'm going to try and ping your phone to see if I can narrow down your location," the dispatcher said. He heard her typing away at her computer again.

"Okay, Malcolm, I'm triangulating your location now, just hold on for me, okay? I've sent a notice to the Rochester PD, so they're getting ready to head out while I finalize your location. Just keep listening to the sound of my voice and keep pressure on that wound, okay?"

"Okay."

Blood was pouring out of Malcolm. His legs and knees were soaked from the blood pooling on the cement floor around him. His hands were hot and wet and his stomach was burning.

"How are you feeling Malcolm?"

"Gutted."

"Alright, just keep talking to me."

Malcolm nodded.

"So what happened that got you here, Malcolm? I want to give to police as much information as I can."

"My team and I, we're part of the homicide unit in the NYPD, were tracking down a killer."

"So what exactly do you do there?" The dispatcher asked. It almost sounded like it could have been a normal conversation between two strangers meeting, if it wasn't for Malcolm bleeding out on the floor. It just happened, sometimes, though.

"I'm a criminal profiler."

"Ah, wow. Must be a lot of school for that. What inspired you to become a criminal profiler?"

"My dad's a serial killer and I reported him to the police when I was seven."

The operator paused for a second.

"I see. Well, that sure is one hell of a way to get into a field."

"Sure is." Malcolm agreed. He paused for a second as well.

"I think I hear sirens. Are they close?"

The dispatcher clacked her keyboard keys a few more times.

"Yes, they're almost there. Just stay on the line with me until they arrive. You know how it goes."

"Yeah, I do. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The door to the room Malcolm was confined to burst open.

"Take care," the dispatcher hung up the phone.

"You too," Malcolm said back to the nothingness before letting the numbness wash over him and the blackness consume him.

#911 what's your emergency #whumptober 2022 #no. 11 #prodigal son fic #prodigal son #malcolm bright

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prodigal-howlter · 3 months

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Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Prodigal Son (TV 2019) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo, Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo/Malcolm Bright Characters: Gil Arroyo, Malcolm Bright, Jackie Arroyo Additional Tags: Daddy Kink, Praise, Dirty Talk, voyeurism (obviously), very very light edging, Threesomes, Caught in the Act, and one (1) purring gil, Non-consentual voyeurism, Snowballing, Come Eating, Jackie is collared via Gil (prior to fic), M/F Sex, m/m and m/m/f sex, Kink Negotiation, Safeword Negotiation, Blowjobs, Phone Sex, Bondage, Aftercare, Flirting, Making Out, light nondescriptive talk of a medical procedure involving a child, Fluff, Smut, Light Angst, Language, complete fic, Major Character Injuries, (Jackie gets stabbed in a dream), Embedded Images, Has alternative text for images Summary:

In which Gil, Jackie, and Malcolm learn that their "unrequited" feelings may not be so unrequited.

#prodigal son #prodigal son fox #gil arroyo/malcolm bright/jackie arroyo #gil arroyo/malcolm bright #gil arroyo/jackie arroyo #jackie arroyo/malcolm bright #gil arroyo #malcolm bright #jackie arroyo #prodigal son smut #prodigal son fic #shut up nika

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raz-writes-the-thing · 5 months

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Study Bunny (Prodigal Son One-Shot)

Martin Whitly x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: You ride Martin's thigh.

CW: daddy kink, medical talk, possessive behaviour(ish)

Prodigal Son: @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

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Martin was far too perceptive for his own good, you thought. He always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking even before you did. It was a little uncanny, to be completely honest. If this was the twenty-four hundreds or something, you would have been concerned that he’d implanted thought reader chips in your head or something.

“Oh, my dear,” he’d said one day when you’d questioned him about his ability to know what you were thinking- not about the chips. “I’m just exceptionally good at reading people.”

You weren’t really sure whether it was people in general, or just you. He did spend an awful lot of time with you, after all. It made sense he’d get used to you enough to read your face.

Anyway, you were thinking about all this while perched in his lap in his study. Martin was peering over some anatomical diagrams in preparation for a surgery he had in the morning. You’d been planning to leave him alone to his study, but you had found yourself in his lap somehow anyway. That sort of thing had a tendency to happen, you’d noticed.

What could you say? Martin was a convincing man. And quite cuddly. How could one resist such temptation?

“Dear, you’re staring again,” Martin commented without looking at you. You blinked twice, clearing your brain from the fog that had been seeping through the corners.

“Was I? Sorry,” you replied sheepishly, dropping your head onto his shoulder. Martin chuckled, and you saw his cheek muscles move with his smile. He sighed and put the paper down on the desk. He turned his attention towards you and placed both his hands on your hips.

Your breath hitched ever so slightly, and the sharpening of Martin’s gaze let you know that he did not fail to notice it either.

“Mm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting. You know, I’ve noticed you tend to have heightened feelings of arousal and hormone spiking around the mid-month mark.”

You blinked. Did you?

“Yes, my dear. Interesting, I know.”

You felt his fingertips press a little harder into your hips, and the resulting whimper it pulled out of you was as embarrassing as it was telling. Martin chuckled- a wolf’s grin on his lips, and dragged your hips just slightly against his thigh.

You bit your lip, taking the initiative and rocking yourself ever-so-slightly against his thigh. Martin grinned wider if that were possible, and leaned back in his chair so he could appreciate the sight in front of him.

You rolled your hips harder, delighting in the jolt of pleasure ricocheting up your spine. Martin let out what could only be a possessive growl and pushed his knee up for you to rut against.

“That’s it. Fuck, my love. Stunning,” he grunted, voice like gravel. “Watching you fuck yourself on my thigh like this? Fucking gorgeous, my dear.”

You whimpered, pleasure shooting up your nerve endings and setting you alight. Your muscles were aching with strain, but the pleasure far outweighed the delicious stretch and burn.

Martin started bouncing his knee, sending jolts of pleasure into the mix, giving you a different sensation to take your ecstasy from.

“Mm, maybe I’ll have to conduct a little study on you- when do you reach your hormonal cycles? How do we measure when they’ll be coming up?” Martin leaned in to whisper darkly in your ear, saying, “when are you most pathetic for my cock? Hmm? Yes, I know, dear. Pathetic little thing just wants to cum.”

You were getting close now, having him speak to you like this and with his hands on your hips rocking you against him- you would never have lasted long, anyway.

“Would you like that? Daddy’s little study bunny? Oh, look at you. Yes, I know,” he growled possessively, eyeing you hungrily, all thoughts of his upcoming surgery forgotten. “Fucking cum for me, my love.”

And cum you did, whimpering and moaning as your hips jerked against him erratically, releasing with such vigour that your whole body shook atop him- much to his delight.

“That’s it. Oh, my good little dove.”

You panted, dropping your head back onto his shoulder and letting out a giggle as the endorphins flooded your system.

“Fuck, I love you,” you panted.

“I love you, too, my dear,” Martin replied, pressing a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead and turning back to pick his papers back up.

“I’ll just finish these notes and we can retire for the night,” he said, already losing himself in the papers. You nodded, yawning tiredly.

“Sounds good to me, beloved.”

#martin whitly #martin whitly imagine #martin whitly x reader #prodigal son #prodigal son imagine #michael sheen #martin whitly x you #dr whitly #dr. whitly x reader #prodigal son x reader #michael sheen x reader #x reader #martin whitly x yn #martin whitly x y/n #prodigal son fic #prodigal son fanfic #prodigal son fanfiction

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denaliwrites · 6 months

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But Then My Stupid Phone Beeps

Martin Whitly x GN!Reader

Summary: Dr. Whitly accidentally discovers the name you have him under in your contacts. He's... conflicted.

Soundtrack: Saddy Daddy-o by Artimus Wolz

Requests: Open!

Warnings: I dunno, it's Martin Whitly. Can be read as Daddy Kink but isn't necessarily intended that way.

You thought you could trust Martin with your phone. That was the whole reason you'd had the guard hand it off to him. You'd just needed to run to the restroom. That was it. How much trouble could he possibly get into in the, at maximum, two minutes it took you to run there and back?

Apparently, a lot.

Walking back into the room, you immediately knew something was... off. You weren't sure how, but there was a subtle difference in the air. When you turned to the guard, he gave you a look as he leaned forward to pass your phone back.

Martin was uncharacteristically quiet. Your attention turned to him, and you finally saw the expression he wore -- something caught between disgruntlement and bemusement.

"What's wrong?" you asked, and you wondered if maybe something had happened with Malcolm or Ainsley. Had they had another falling out? Could that much damage really have happened in the two minutes (max) that you were gone?

"Murder Daddy, huh?" Martin shot back, tone casual but eyes belying the emotions roiling away underneath his nonchalant act.

You stiffened, clutching the phone to your chest. "Wh... wheeeeere did you hear that?" you tried to cover, forcing a smile. "Did someone on Twitter call you that?"

"No..." he said, and he sounded remarkably like an admonishing parent, and you realized that this was literally the worst time to get turned on, but hey -- you'd been naughty, apparently. "You did."

The disappointment in his voice was palpable, and you whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, I know, little lamb," he chuckled darkly. "But I'm not interested in an apology."

"Y-you're not?"

"Oh, no," he told you, moving to a stand and pacing to the red line that separated you two. He was painfully close -- tauntingly within reach but unable to be touched. You could feel his breath ghosting across your skin, and you were dangerously close to drowning in his eyes. "I want to know how you're going to make it up to your Murder Daddy."

#martin whitly x reader #martin whitly x you #prodigal son fic #prodigal son fanfiction #michael sheen #unofficial name dumb ways to die part 2

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artemisthewh0re · 3 days

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I'm Writing Again 🥳

Hi guys! I've been gone for a very long time. I think about two months or so because my schedule is hectic but I'm about to graduate and I have more free time now. I'm starting a Martin Whitley x Reader smut to get back into my groove. It's gonna be a short blurb but hopefully I'll start writing longer pieces soon. I love you guys so much ❤️❤️

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ophelia-writes-fics · 4 months

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the thrill of the rush [martin whitly x reader - 18+]

You had always known that Martin wanted kids, but you hadn’t realized quite how badly until you’d agreed to start trying for one.

Tags (please read!): fem!reader, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, lots and lots of praise, like so much praise, pet names, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (fem receiving), daddy kink, begging, mild degradation, rough-ish sex, a bit of biting, aftercare, weirdly soft and tender considering martin is a serial killer but honestly this could be read as an AU where he isn't

Word count: ~1.9k

CWs/TWs:

reader and martin are trying for a baby, but there's no in-depth discussion of pregnancy, and reader isn't pregnant (yet)

full disclosure, i'm only on episode 5 of prodigal son (but i've seen a ton of clips and edits) so if martin's a bit out of character i apologize. i tried to capture his softer, family-oriented side a little bit - i like it when he's scary, but sometimes a bitch just wants to be lavished with love, yk? <3

i'll write some really kinky shit with him later, i've got some fun requests, but for now, enjoy! (oh, and 10th doctor smut will be posted tomorrow, so stay tuned!)

You had always known that Martin wanted kids, but you hadn’t realized quite how badly until you’d agreed to start trying for one.

However, now that he had you pinned underneath him, practically bent in half, and was pounding into you with reckless abandon, you were starting to realize what exactly you were in for.

“Oh, f-fuck, please, Martin, s-slow down…” you begged, your hands scrambling for purchase on his forearms as your eyes rolled back from pleasure.

“Shh, darling, you can take it. You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Just lie there and let me take care of you,” he murmured before gently kissing your forehead and doubling down on his already brutal pace.

“Mnn…c-can’t take it…too much…” You shut your eyes tightly, thoroughly overwhelmed with pleasure.

He’d already made you cum twice by going down on you, then twice more while fucking you like this, and despite how overstimulated and sensitive your entire body felt, you were rapidly approaching another orgasm.

“You can and you will, sweet girl. I’m going to make sure you get just as much enjoyment out of this as I do, and if that means I end up making you cum a dozen more times tonight, then that’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to take it.” He pressed a series of desperate, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin on your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. Do you know what you do to me? What your body does to me?”

A particularly hard thrust made you cry out, and from the look in Martin’s eyes, you could tell that was exactly the reaction he was hoping for. His grip on your thighs tightened as he bent you further back, pinning you so that your knees nearly touched your shoulders, fucking you deeper than you’d thought possible. He leaned in close to whisper to you as he pounded you mercilessly, his hand moving between the two of you to rub against your hypersensitive clit.

“I’ve been waiting on this for ages, darling. I’ve been waiting -- fuck, you feel amazing -- waiting so long to have you like this, all mine for the taking, at long last.”

Martin groaned, closing his eyes as your cunt tightened around him. You opened your mouth to try and tell him you were getting close, that you needed him, that it was too much and not enough and you needed it so badly, but before you could speak, he pulled you close and kissed you passionately, a stark contrast to the absolutely brutal fucking he was giving you.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours. “I know, sweetheart, I know, you’re so close, I feel it,” he purred, interrupting himself every so often to kiss you again. “I can feel how badly you want it. It’s all right, darling, let it happen. I’ve got you. I’m not going to stop for anything, I promise. Cum for me, baby, I know you can do it.”

You could barely even process the words coming out of his mouth, but still, your body obeyed his orders, almost instinctively. You couldn’t have held back if you wanted to, your desperate moan becoming a scream as your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, leaving you trembling and whimpering for Martin to please, please slow down, it’s too much, even though you both knew full well that you could take it. He fucked you straight through it, only barely slowing down as you came, then picking up the pace again, thrusting into you with deep, hard strokes.

“Such a good little girl,” he praised, giving you that look you knew so well as he smiled at you; that thrilling, dangerous look in his eye that made you feel like a cornered prey animal, completely helpless and at his mercy, and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. His hand wandered to your neck and wrapped around it - not nearly hard enough to restrict your breathing, but enough so you felt the weight of it, so that you knew you were his and only his.

You practically melted beneath him at the feeling, letting yourself float away in the waves and waves of pleasure that never stopped. You lavished in his praise, in the feeling of his hands all over you, in the light graze of his beard against your face, your neck, your chest as he kissed you over and over again.

“Martin, please, I’m ready…”

He pulled back, fixing you with a look that betrayed his own desperation. “Ready for what, sweetheart? Use your words, I won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“I -- ngh! -- I want you to cum, please, I wanna feel it, I want…” you trailed off with a gasp as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

“What do you want?”

You moaned, barely able to string a coherent thought together, feeling yourself getting more and more lost in your fog of pleasure.

Martin grabbed your chin firmly, turning your face to him. “I said, what do you want, hmm?” His gravelly voice was like music in your ears. “Say it, sweetheart. Tell Daddy what you need.”

You stared up at him through blurry eyes, trying to focus on him in your fucked-out state. “I want…I want you to fill me up. I want to have a baby with you, Martin. I - I need it, please, I’m ready, I want - oh, fuck, oh my god, yes, right there…fuck, I - I want to have your child, please, I need it, Martin…”

That did it. Without even pulling out, he turned you over and quickly positioned you so that you were on all fours, pressing your face into the mattress with a deep moan that was almost a growl. He grabbed your hips hard, using them as leverage to fuck into you even harder, with shallow thrusts that hit the most sensitive places inside you, never pulling even halfway out.

“Oh, yes, that’s it, my filthy fucking girl. You want Daddy to breed you?”

He knew the answer, he’d known it since the beginning, that was what had started this past hour of overwhelming pleasure for you, but you knew that he wanted to hear you say it. He wanted you to beg.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes! Please, please, I need it, please…”

“Ah, there’s my good girl. You’re so sweet, aren’t you? Begging like a whore for me to fill you up. There you go, let me hear you moan for it, let me hear how desperate you are for me to put a baby in you, come on…Mmm, such a good girl, lying there and taking it like the slut you are.”

You could tell from his tone of voice and the way his pace was starting to grow erratic that he was getting close, and you knew that you weren’t far behind him. You absolutely loved it when he got like this, dominant and possessive and half-mad with lust. You could barely hold yourself upright with how badly your body was shaking.

You felt his grip tighten on your hips, fingers pressing so hard into your soft skin that you were sure you’d have bruises tomorrow, and you whined desperately, the sound growing muffled as Martin shoved your face back into the mattress, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling slightly in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“God, you have no idea how hard it’s been for me to hold back, I’ve wanted to do this for so long…can’t stop -- oh, shit, darling, just like that -- god, I can’t stop fucking thinking about how pretty you’ll look carrying my child, how needy you’ll be for me for those nine long months,” he panted, voice shaking ever so slightly. You knew he meant every single word.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, my perfect girl. You hear me? Daddy’s going to take such good care of you.”

He wrapped an arm around you, toying with your clit in a way that he knew would drive you over the edge at any moment.

“I’m going to take care of you just like I’m doing now. I’m going to make you feel so good that you’ll never want to leave this bed. You won’t have to. Just - oh, god - just say the word and I’ll be at your beck and call. But right now, what I need you to do is cum for me, because--”

His words broke off with a deep, feral moan before he collected himself enough to speak. “Because, my beautiful darling, I am getting so fucking close to cumming inside you, and I need to feel your needy little pussy take every drop I’m going to give it, do you understand me? I’m going to count down, and when I tell you to, you’re going to give me everything you’ve got, yeah?”

You moaned and nodded, feeling thoroughly drunk and light-headed with pleasure.

“Three…”

You felt yourself tighten around him as his fingers sped up against your clit.

“Two…”

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, so close, so fucking close…

“One…”

It was so much, it was all too much, you couldn’t hold back for even a moment more…

“Fuck, yes, there you go, cum for me, angel, cum for me!”

You cried out as your final orgasm of the night washed over you like a tidal wave, your throat feeling sore and raw, your body feeling electrified all over as shocks of pleasure coursed through every inch of you, inside and out. Martin had done the same as he came deep inside you, his voice rough as he moaned for you, panting hard, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he filled your cunt with his seed.

After what felt like an eternity, you collapsed onto the bedsheets as you came down from your high, unable to hold yourself up any longer. Martin laid down beside you, pulling you into his arms, holding you close as he wrapped you both in a blanket.

He pressed a kiss to your neck before resting his face against your shoulder, sighing contentedly. His arm was wrapped around you, his warm hand resting protectively against your lower stomach, right where you could still feel his cum inside you.

“You’re incredible,” Martin sighed, his soft exhale tickling the shell of your ear. “You did so well for me, sweetheart, you were wonderful.”

“Yeah?” You gave him a sleepy smile as you settled yourself into his embrace, floating in the afterglow.

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, and you felt him smile against the curve of your shoulder. “I can hardly wait until you start showing, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” He pulled you closer, playfully biting your neck as you giggled, then tilted his head upward to gently kiss your lips with a loving smile.

“Let’s get some sleep now, sweet girl. I know you’re tired, and you’re gonna need plenty of rest soon, hmm?”

You nodded, yawning and pulling the blanket tighter around the both of you before settling back into Martin’s warm embrace.

He hummed quietly, contentedly, and you felt the sound vibrate in his chest.

“Sleep well, my beautiful girl. I love you with all my heart.”

A/N: thank you so much for reading! if you have any other ideas, my requests are open, so ask away! and again, i've got another fic coming tomorrow, so be sure to check it out if you're interested. feel free to like, comment, rb, share, whatever you like :) love you all!

#prodigal son #martin whitly x reader #martin whitly #martin whitly smut #michael sheen #michael sheen smut #my fic

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