#martin whitly fanfic

[denaliwrites]

f i c m a s t e r l i s t

p o l i c i e s (please read before making requests!)

b a d s a m a r i t a n The Best of You, Honey, Belongs to Me Blackthorn Cover Myself in the Ashes of You Dumb Ways To Die Enough of You to Dull the Pain (18+) Hellbent Looking For A Godsend Hit Me With Your Best Shot I Got This Feeling On A Summer Day (18+) I'm Gooey in the Middle Baby Let Me Bake In His Eyes A Flaming Glow Intrigued and Afraid Keep You Like An Oath (18+) Killing Me Softly My Baby Shot Me Down (18+) Not Much Between Despair and Ecstasy (18+) Only Touch That Gets Me Melting (18+) Run Rabbit Run (18+) Say My Name Send a Thousand Kings Away Shia Surprise Something Good to Celebrate Stop, Look and Listen, It's Halloween! Taste of a Poison Paradise Trust in Me, Just in Me With Your Scars and Your Lonely Heart Your Body's a Secret Girl and You're About to Spill It (18+)

t h e b o y s Watch That Butcher Burn

b r o a d c h u r c h Always Leave Me With a Hungry Heart Am I Doing This Right? An Art to Life's Distractions Beating Like A Kick Drum Girls Like Girls Like Boys Do It's Been a Long, Long Time Love's Perfect Ache Now and Again We Try to Just Stay Alive Regale You With A Gourd-geous Tale Say You'll Remember Me Say You'll Remember Me (Denali's Version) Tell Me It's A Nightmare What My Heart Was Worth

d o c t o r w h o Cuddle, Meet Puddle Cute Things Don't Blink (Part 1) Don't Turn Your Back (Part 2) Don't Look Away (Part 3) Dreams See Us Through (Part 4) Hate the Feeling of Falling Have a Holly Jolly Christmas Horrible Things Isn't That Wizard It's How I'm Made Let Me Come Home Little Creepy House Love Letters On the Brave Shit The Origin of (Love Bug) Species What Beautiful Things I'll Wear When the Crypt Doors Creak You Know That I Would Jump Too

d u c k t a l e s Tales of Daring

g o o d o m e n s All I Want For Christmas Aziraphale's Favorite Author Dance on a Tightrope of Weird Free as My Hair His Love is All in Me How the Wine Plays Tricks on My Tongue Lockdown Blues Making Biscuits My Heart's a Stereo Naked in That Garden (18+) Out There Making DuckTales Pickin' Up the Pieces of the Mess You Made Road to Hell Something Meaty For The Main Course Step Too Far Tongue Tied Your Love is Holy (18+)

f a l l o f t h e h o u s e o f u s h e r Tomorrow I Shall Be Fetterless (18+)

f r i g h t n i g h t Emptiness to Melody Everybody Scream in Our Town of Halloween Fixed Up to the Nines Howl Like an Animal in the Darkness I'm So Hot I'd Fuck Myself (18+) I'm Starvin', Darlin', Let Me Put My Lips to Somethin' Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me (18+) Make Me Glow Night of Long Fangs (18+) Parade of Dancing Skeletons Talk So Pretty (18+) Who Are You Supposed To Be, Criss Angel? (18+)

h a u n t i n g o f b l y m a n o r ???

j u r a s s i c p a r k / w o r l d Best Behavior The Future Ex Mrs. Malcolm

p r o d i g a l s o n But Then My Stupid Phone Beeps Never Fallen From Quite This High Office Supplies Rude Boy They are the Hunters, We are the Foxes Trigger Happy With a Sense of Poise (18+)

s l o w h o r s e s Imposing Figure Inappropriate

[raz-writes-the-thing]

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!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

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.”

[flash-bastardd]

Wanting to do a silence of the lambs retelling with these two.

Anyone interested?

I have started the fic!

Hatred of the Blissful Things

[incorrectprodigalsonquotes]

What Could've Been for Prodigal Son Season 4... Part 1

Okay so this is what could've been for Season 4, of course you're free to disagree with me but this is just how my brain thinks might’ve happened to just settle the fact that we never got closure lol:

Season 4 starts where Season 3 left off more or less

Malcolm is still at the hospital with whom he now knows to be his sister (seriously, Lorelai or Katherine? Which name? I'll just call her Sissy for now... because she's a little sister lol)

Her husband makes his first appearance, and he's a little cautious about Malcolm. Sissy wants to know her older brother, especially now that she's learned that her birth father is one of New York's infamous serial killers. She needs to know how to live with that.

Dani goes to the hospital to see Malcolm, hugs him, then slaps his chest because she thought he got seriously hurt... again. We'd get the first Brightwell moment of the season, possibly a kiss.

They have another moment in the waiting room as Malcolm talks about the fact that he now has another sister and that it turns out his mother thinking Martin had been cheating on her wasn't her getting the wrong vibe, they both had the right instincts back then, Malcolm had just been able to prove his suspicions. Dani hugs him and tells him that she's here for him, whatever he decides to do to proceed.

Martin is awake, and he tells Mr David that he wishes to call his family, he has a few words for "his boy".

A case with another family annihilator comes their way but the main difference this time is that it's attempted murder because the killer got it all wrong. He killed his boss because he got rightfully fired and he didn't want to face his family so he'd been lying about going to work for weeks and then he tried to kill them... thankfully he failed.

It brings up a lot of feelings for Malcolm because he can't imagine doing something like that to his own family... but then again, Martin was technically his family because DNA (dumb DNA) and he wonders if stabbing Martin (again) wasn't just a fluke and it was just tapping into who he really is.

At the end of the case, Malcolm and Gil have a conversation, and Gil tells Malcolm, "I don't know if I ever told you this, kid, but... even though I do worry about you and I always will, the one thing I never worried about was you becoming like the Surgeon. You two might be related by blood, but you are your own person, and you have proven more times than you'll ever know that you are a good man. One I happen to be very proud of."

Halloween episode where they all dress up... Malcolm is clearly dressed up as Waldo of "Where's Waldo" fame. It was Dani’s idea jokingly, but he took it seriously. Dani is dressed in the sequin jumpsuit similar to the one Sandra Bullock wore in "The Lost City", a movie both she and Malcolm really enjoyed.

At the end of the episode, Malcolm is informed that Martin has woken up and wishes to speak to him. Malcolm declines.

After that, a Dani backstory episode about her and her family. We learn about how her dad died (it was definitely something unexpected like a car crash) and also why Dani chose to join the force in the first place. Dani's dad was actually an officer who was in the same police academy class as Gil, the two might have been friends in their academy days and then years later, it wasn't until after Dani was brought onto his team that Gil realized who her dad was. One of the reasons Dani likes Gil as a boss is because he reminds her a lot of her dad.

Christmas episode and partial JT backstory (we don't learn his name until Season 5). We see how JT and Tally spend Christmas, especially now that they have a son who is almost two years old. They're very happy and Tally tells him that she's pregnant again.

They invite everyone from both their jobs for a Christmas party too.

The Christmas case involves a gingerbread house competition and one of the judges was killed because he rigged the contest so the woman he was having an affair with would win. That same woman tries flirting with Malcolm but not only is he oblivious to it, he also makes it very clear just how in love he is with Dani.

Malcolm also sends his half-sister a Christmas card. He considers sending one to Ainsley but finds the ripped birthday card she sent back in his drawer and decides against it.

Gil actually takes Jessica out to dinner for Christmas Eve, hoping to start a tradition for the two of them. It goes so well, they both wonder if this is some kind of dream.

Malcolm and Dani spend Christmas Eve together and Dani teaches him how to make a lavender mint hot chocolate (an idea I got from @morningssofgold seriously go check out her Brightwell fics, they are incredible!) Malcolm says how he's never felt so... calm on Christmas Eve, like there's no expectations, they can just enjoy the night.

Dani agrees and offhandedly says, "There's something soothing about the people you love making you feel at ease..."

Malcolm stares at her for a moment.

Dani tilts her head, "What?"

He finally smiles before he pulls her in for a kiss, stopping for one moment to whisper, "I love you too..."

The mid-season finale ends on a seemingly positive note...

Until the actual final scene.

Ainsley can be seen picking up the phone and calling someplace. The camera goes around her apartment as her muffled voice seems to be asking for someone. When the camera goes back to her face, she's smiling, "Hi Daddy... Merry Christmas."

Martin’s voice happily saying, "My girl"

Mid-season finale ends on Ainsley’s smile (maybe) turning sinister.

[1-800-black-readers-r-us]

Character ai chat is rotting my brain... might post some smut for 18th bday😭👍🏾

[godspeedviper]

Anesthesia - Martin Whitly kinktober (+18)

𖤐 Kinktober Prompt: Surgery

𖤐 Synopsis: In captivity, Martin Whitly reminisces on his various surgical procedures, both legal and illegal

𖤐 Word Count: 394

𖤐 Rating: Mature || Dead Dove Do Not Eat || Canon Typical Gore

It all began with curiosity, sweet innocent curiosity. He wanted to know what was inside, he wanted to see how everything worked and fit together, like a puzzle. What Martin Whitly never expected was to fall in love with the process. He will never forget the first time he cut into a living person as a young resident. Sure, he was only making a first incision under direct supervision, but for Martin that was his first taste of true power. Martin closed his eyes and envisioned himself back into that moment. His gloved left hand rested atop the bare skin of his patient, while his right held the scalpel. He sighed as he watched the first drop of blood sprouted from the incision, lazily flowing out from the body like a lover’s soft moan escaping their lips, egging him on, consenting to more. 

  The scalpel cut right through layers of soft buttery adipose, revealing smooth muscle. From this perspective, he was no longer limited by the superficial vapidity of his gaze, every body type was beautiful under the knife. This transformed every procedure into an intimate affair, regardless of his patient’s gender or sexual orientation. Under anesthesia, everyone was his type. 

  Martin let out a long languid sigh as he pictured his hands working open the wound, placing forceps like spreader bars on the body to keep his victim open, wanton, and receptive. His cock twitched at the thought of reaching into a victim and touching them in ways more intimate than anyone else was capable of. Each organ had their own unique texture, thickness, and feel to it, but ultimately they all felt hot in his grasp, throbbing 

                                                  Pulsing.

  Bloody.

  He spent the rest of the night in his cell, working himself up over vivid memories of every procedure he’s ever performed. The warm feeling of blood squirting onto his chest

                    His face,

                                     His arms. 

  And, like a true gentleman, Martin always made sure to stitch them back up with care. Every corpse and living patient alike. Nimble fingers threading through delicate skin with care. Sure, he had been caught in the end, but no one could ever take away his memories. No governing body could ever erase the scars he left behind, emotional and physical. Like a possessive lover, his procedures always left a mark, and that was true power, true bliss. 

Ao3 || Kinktober List || Ko-Fi

[eddieheart]

Autistic Malcolm Bright Headcanons

Part one

still has his childhood therapist because he hates change

has a hand shake stim that exasperates his hand tremor

he's bad at talking about his feelings and keeps things bottled up

doesn't understand social queues and comes across as rude

studied psychology so he could better understand the people around him

Gil used his detective powers to teach Malcolm how to 'read people'

he went non verbal after his dad was arrested because he couldn't deal with all the emotions

has trouble recognizing and naming emotions his and other people's

'are you angry or are you joking, no reply, please tell me'

over analyzes everything

special interests are psychology, true crime, ancient weapons, serial killers and budgies

[amatoria-herba]

I I ღ Ineffable husbands - ONESHOTS ღ I I

Summary: Compilation of short stories about different Tennant-Sheen pairings, mainly Ineffable Husbands; and 18+ content almost in every chapter. Written in colaboration with @yuukivic

Fandom: Good Omens, Broadchurch, Fright Night, Masters of Sex, Casanova, Wilde, Twilight, Bad Samaritan, Prodigal Son, Jessica Jones, ...

Language: Spanish (google gives option of translating pages ;) )

Platform: Wattpad (@No_giving_up), AO3 (@Yuukivic)

[eternallytired17]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Prodigal Son (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Malcolm Bright, Martin Whitly, Dani Powell, JT Tarmel, Gil Arroyo, Jessica Whitly, Ainsley Whitly Additional Tags: Serial Killers, Whump, Malcolm Bright Whump, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Serious Injuries, Kidnapping, Hurt Malcolm Bright, Martin Whitly Escapes Claremont Psychiatric Hospital, Martin Whitly Being an Asshole, Hurt/Comfort, Gil Arroyo Acting as Malcolm Bright's Parental Figure Summary:

An unwelcome guest drops into Malcolm's apartment.

NEW CHAPTER!

[a41-i-finally-caved]

And two years later...Sorry for the wait guys :)

A taut breath, and Martin settles back down, the tether holding him to the wall pooling limp on the floor. “It goes both ways; there is something other about us that they can feel. We become curiosities, objects of fear or excitement, monsters in the dark. It’s predator and prey, my boy.” “What’s your point?” Gil says. “A serial killer can never be this personal; but Martin Whitly…” “This isn’t about the Surgeon,” Malcolm breathes. “It’s about you.”

[the-flaming-nightmare]

The first few hours at the precinct had started out relatively good. They didn't have a case so far, but he was still happy to stick around and hangout with the team for awhile.

He should have realized sooner though that his sudden stroke of luck wouldn't last him long. He was still Malcolm Bright, after all. Of course nothing good could ever last long.

Reblogs are dearly appreciated ❤

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Kisses (Martin Whitly Drabble)

Martin Whitly x GN!Reader / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: You really want to cover Martin in kisses. What a shame his guard is distracted.

CW: possessive behaviour, alluding to murder, fluff, soft shit fr

Prodigal Son tag list: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“I desperately want to kiss your face right now,” you sigh sadly, toes kicking at the red line on the floor of Martin’s cell. 

"Do you just? Hmm, I can't say I'd complain, darling," Martin arches his brow at you suggestively. You chuckle and check to see if his guard is watching. He's not, and you cross the red tape to straddle his waist in his office chair.

You cup his cheeks with your hands and press kiss after kiss all over his face. Cheeks, chin, forehead, neck. Any skin that was visible was now covered in kisses. Martin was sighing with pleasure, his cuffed hands brushing at your lower belly softly. It was the only part of you he could touch like this.

Martin nudged at your chin with his nose, grabbing your attention. He leaned his face up towards you, pressing a loving kiss to your lips. You melted against him, arms wrapping around his neck and fingering at the back of his cardigan.

"I wish I could touch you, my darling," he whispers, pressing a few slow kisses down the length of your jaw. "Hold you. Perhaps we could get married. Then we could get conjugal visits, hmm? Wouldn't that be something?"

You chuckle, nipping softly at the shell of his ear. This made him grunt.

"Not the most romantic proposal I've ever received," you say thoughtfully, sitting back on his lap. Martin laughs and then furrows his brows.

"How many proposals have you gotten?"

You flick at his nose and wink. He screws his face up in mock irritation before trying to catch your finger in a playful bite.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Well, I would, actually. I need to know how many people I need to hunt down when I get out of here. You're mine, darling. Do not forget it."

"I'm yours," you agree. "Utterly."

Martin hums thoughtfully.

"Does that mean..."

"No," you clarify. "Not yet. Ask me when you get out."

Martin chuckles darkly, though his eyes are the softest you've ever seen them.

"I'll hold you to that, my dear."

You'd be disappointed if he didn't.

[muppet-molly]

Oh, such painful, lonely, empty ships.

Nick Stokes/David Phillips

Edrisa Tanaka/Martin Whitly

Nebula/Rocket Raccoon

Laszlo Cravensworth/Sean Rinaldi

I am Queen of the Rare-pair, man. On some of these, my fanfic is the first/only. Disheartening, to say the least. I don't even really ship those two Guardians, I just had a story in my head, but damn, it's 1 of 16 fics in an enormous fandom

[locke-writes]

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."

[get-your-fics]

Plaything

Summary: You are Malcolm and Ainsley’s babysitter, but end up getting involved with the father of the Whitly family in unexpected ways.

Pairing: Martin Whitly x reader

Warnings: Cheating, kidnapping, drugging, language, non-con sexual content

A/N: so this has been in my drafts for a while and I don’t think I’ll ever get around to finishing it, so consider this my new year’s eve present to y’all :)

“Coming!”

The voice came from inside the Whitly’s townhouse three seconds after you had rung the doorbell. Footsteps drew closer, and the lock on the front door clicked. The knob twisted before the door pulled open, revealing a man on the other side.

“Hello,” he said in a deep, rumbling baritone. He had brown, curly hair and a full beard. He was wearing a bright red sweater, and he had a welcoming smile on his face that you noticed didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You must be (Y/N).”

You forced a smile on your face. “That’s me.” You reached a hand out to him and hoped he didn’t notice the way you were slightly shaking. You couldn’t help but get a little nervous when meeting new people. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Whitly.”

His blue-green eyes raked over your form up and down as if he was taking all of you in. After a moment, his grin grew wider, and grabbed your outstretched hand. “Please, call me Martin.” You tried to ignore the way the feel of his skin ignited sparks along your nerve endings. “Why don’t you come in?”

You subconsciously mourned the loss of contact when he retracted his hand. He stepped aside and held the door open wider for you. You stepped inside and wandered further into the foyer, gazing up at the crystal chandelier and high walls in admiration. “Wow. You have a really nice home, Mr. Whitly.”

He closed the front door behind him. “Thank you,” he walked closer to you, “and didn't I tell you to call me Martin?” He nudged your shoulder with his elbow and gave you a playful wink. You felt an involuntary blush wash over your cheeks as he called up the stairs, “Ainsley! Malcolm! The babysitter is here!”

You heard the pitter-patter of light footsteps against hardwood before you saw two children appear at the top of the stairs. They flew down the winding staircase in a blur and landed in front of their father at the bottom. One of the children was a girl with long, blonde hair that was slightly mussed. The other was a boy slightly taller than his sister with brown hair like his father’s and bright, blue eyes.

“Kids, meet your babysitter, (Y/N).” Mr. Whitly wrapped his arms around his children’s shoulders. “You listen to her while we’re gone, all right?” They nodded wordlessly, and he ruffled their hair with a chuckle.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” You swiveled your head to see a woman rushing down the stairs, her stilettos clicking against the hardwood. She finished putting her other earring in as she came to a stop next to Mr. Whitly. “Sorry I’m late, dear. You know how long it takes me to get ready.”

She flipped her glossy, chestnut brown hair over her shoulder, and it cascaded down her back in elegant waves. You assumed this must be his wife. She was extremely beautiful and had a regal air about her. “Mrs. Whitly, it’s nice to meet you,” you stammered out and held your hand out to her.

She glanced at you before draping her hand in yours. “You, too.” She gave your hand a single shake before drawing hers away. She turned to her husband. “Really, darling, we must get going if we want to make it to the banquet on time.”

“I wonder who’s fault that would be,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes only you caught. You stifled a giggle. “You go ahead and get in the car, dear. I have to give (Y/N) a few instructions first.”

She let out a sigh. “All right.” She gave each of her children a kiss on their head before exiting the townhouse, leaving a cloud of Chanel perfume in her wake.

“Here’s some money in case you want to order a pizza later.” Mr. Whitly dug out his wallet from his pocket and handed you a crisp twenty dollar bill. “They should both be in bed by nine o’ clock.” He put a hand on your shoulder and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Thanks for agreeing to watch them for us.”

He smiled at you, and you felt like you were glowing under his touch. “No problem.” You gave him a small smile back. You didn’t know why you were reacting to him in this way, but he was so handsome, you couldn’t help it.

He patted your shoulder before turning to his children. “Be good for (Y/N) while we’re gone, okay?” He kissed the top of their heads before giving you a final wave goodbye. You waved back, and he followed after his wife out the door.

You watched the headlights of the Whitly’s car pass over the windows as it drove away. Then, you turned to the two Whitly children who stood stock still at the bottom of the steps. You bent down so you were eye level with them. “So...” you smiled at them. “Who wants pizza?”

The Whitly children were rather surprisingly easy to deal with. Ainsley was a little demanding, dragging you around by your hand to play dolls or stuffed animals with her. Malcom was more guarded and reserved. He had this haunted look in his large, round eyes, like he had seen too much, more than he let on.

When you put the kids to bed on time, you still had a while before the Whitly parents were due home, so you retired to the living room. You laid down on the couch and turned on the tv, flipping to some random channel playing a movie. The blue light from the screen washed over you as your eyes started to flutter closed.

Next thing you knew, there was a hand on your shoulder shaking you and a deep gravelly voice whispering in your ear. “(Y/N), wake up.”

You opened your eyes. The television was off. You blinked rapidly to clear your blurry vision and, through the darkness, you could make out Mr. Whitly’s form hovering above you. “Oh, Mr. Whitly,” you murmured, your voice groggy. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

“That’s all right.” You thought you felt his hand trail up from your shoulder to caress your cheek, but it could have just been your mind playing tricks on you. “Here’s for babysitting.” He pressed a couple of folded bills into your hand.

“Thank you.” You closed your eyes and stretched your aching limbs. You were all cramped from napping on the couch.

“Do you need a ride home?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. I can walk.”

“Walk? At this time of night?” He looked dismayed. “At least let me get you a taxi.” You nodded, and he stood up. “I’ll go call one now. Can I make you a cup of tea while you wait?”

You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Yes, please.”

He smiled. “Great. I’ll be right back.” He retreated to the kitchen, and you felt your cheeks warm. You didn’t want to inconvenience him, but you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend a little more time with the man. There was something intriguing about him. You found him undeniably charming, and his presence was so warm and comforting.

“Leave,” a voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you whipped your head around to find where it was coming from. You spotted Malcolm standing in the archway leading to the foyer dressed in his blue striped pajamas, a blanket wrapped around his small frame.

“Malcolm?” You furrowed your brow. “What are you still doing awake?”

“Don’t drink it,” he urged you in a hushed whisper. Before you could question him further, the sound of approaching footsteps made his clear blue eyes go wide. He whirled around and dashed back up the stairs the way he came as quiet as a mouse.

A second later, Mr. Whitly returned with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. “Be careful, it’s hot,” he warned you as he set the cup down on the coffee table in front of you.

“Thank you.” You stared down at the murky, brown liquid in the cup before looking up at him. “Did you call a taxi?”

He folded his hands in front of him and nodded. “It’ll be here in ten minutes.” He jutted his chin out in the direction of the cup on the table. “Aren’t you going to drink your tea?”

You looked back down at the cup, curls of steam rising off of the surface and floating into the air. You didn’t want to be rude, and Malcolm was probably just trying to play a joke on you. But when you lifted the cup to your lips and took a sip, you swore the grin on his face grew wider and his cerulean eyes turned dark. You set the cup down and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, looking up at him with a smile.

“Good girl,” he nearly purred, sending shivers down your spine. He drew closer to you as your vision became fuzzy, his eyes as black as a shark’s when it smelled blood. You felt like you were being sucked into a blackhole, and you gave in as gray dots blurred your vision.

The last thing you saw before you were completely swallowed by darkness was Mr. Whitly’s menacing grin sharper than a knife.

-

Falling. You were falling. You were falling down a long, winding rabbit hole. Your eyes were closed, and swirls of bright light lit up the veins running along your eyelids. You couldn’t move. Your limbs were numb, but it felt like every inch of your skin was draped in warmth. Then, the gray gave way to a blinding light above you searing your eyes.

You winced. “Turn it off,” you groaned. “Turn it off.”

The light moved out of your eyes, and you blinked to see Mr. Whitly hovering above you. His lips lifted into a wide smile when he saw you. “Finally. You’re awake.”

You frowned. “The sun. It’s too bright.” Your words were slurred, the vowels and consonants running together until you were barely intelligible.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’re all right.” He reached out a hand and brushed some stray strands of hair out of your face.

You tried to move your arms, but couldn’t. You looked up to see rope looped around your wrists. You tried your legs next, but same thing. You looked down to see you were restrained to a metal table and your form was completely bare.

You looked back up at him. “I’m naked.”

He laughed and hummed. “Yes, you are.”

You furrowed your brow, but your muscles felt like they were made of molasses. Your mind tried to form a coherent thought, but it felt like your head was stuffed with cotton. You leaned back against the table and groaned. “My head hurts.”

“I’m sorry, dear. It’s probably a side effect of the drugs I put in your tea.” He corners of his lips turned downwards, but his expression didn’t match the twinkle in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, really. I was just going to let you do your job and go. But when I saw you standing on my doorstep, so innocent and naive, I just couldn’t resist.” He brushed his thumb over your lower lip and stared down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “I had to make you my new plaything.”

Your lips parted, and his thumb slipped into your mouth. Without realizing what you were doing, you swirled your tongue around the pad of his finger. You closed your lips around his thumb and sucked. He watched you, entranced, before removing his appendage from your mouth with a pop. You let out a high-pitched whine.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, never taking his eyes away from you. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. “I am sorry, (Y/N).” He slid down your body as your vision blurred. “But I’m not sorry about what comes next.”

[angelicspaceprince]

Bruised

Author:   Ama 

Title: Bruised

Pairing: Doctor Martin Whitly x Reader

Character/s: Doctor Martin Whitly, mentions of Malcolm Whitly/Bright and Ainsley Whitly.

Word Count: 2, 649 words

Warnings: Spanking, some sexual stuff (18+ only please), some BDSM tones, Doctor being a title like Master or Sir

Tags:  @trelaney  

Prompt: You’d promised Doctor Whitly that you’d be good but you can’t help but bend the rules. The Doctor has had enough, and its time to be punished.

Notes: So I’m going to try and do Kinktober this year but I’m already late so they are all gonna be drabbles and randomised bc lol love it. See the full list of what to expect and what pairings, plus what kinks, here plus my two (hopefully to be released on Halloween) specials on the same page.

Also I know Martin is a serial killer, I know he’s an asshole but he’s a charming asshole that makes me want to sit on his face. So no, I hold no shame in this.

  Buy Me a Coffee 

Bruised

Being married to Martin was a chore some days. Being a step-mother to his two beautiful children that he had to his last wife after she mysteriously died was a challenge. But you loved every single minute.

Sure, stepping into the role of mother to two young ones when the youngest was only 12 weeks old wasn’t ideal but you loved Martin and Martin loved you, any challenge could be over come because surely you could work it out together.

The thing that annoyed you the most that, even after two years of being married to the love of your life, was the rules that he had in place that were iron tight and never bending (which was half the fun of having rules in the first place, you thought). You and the children weren’t allowed in his hobby room, for example. If you wanted his attention, you went to the door and called for him and he came to you. Family time is family time, was another. No distractions from your work or his allowed. That he had to be involved with every decision made regarding the children. They were, after all, his children and you were still, technically, the newcomer. Martin was very big on co-parenting so he always made sure your thoughts, opinions and needs were met but also ensured that his were too. The one that was the hardest one to abide by, however, was his rules about contacting him at work. Never during surgery, never during a consultation and never unless it was an emergency.

You understood the rules. You understood why they were there. And sure, the kinky stuff that happened when you broke the rules was fun. But it was also frustrating. You got frustrated when you called during a surgery because Ainsley had a fever and wouldn’t stop crying. You weren’t sure what to do and he hung up on you to deal with it yourself, followed by a screaming match that evening because you broke one of his precious rules because you panicked and didn’t know what to do. But after that, you spoke and came up with a system, so you knew when was appropriate to call him and when wasn’t. After all, you aren’t medically trained and had never dealt with a sick child before. He granted you a little slack.

So, today, when Malcolm was, for the twelfth time that morning, puking his guts up in the toilet, you called Martin to let him know Malcolm was going to have the day off of school. When the nurse picked up and informed you that you just missed him and he’d gone into the surgery that he had been prepping for for weeks now due to the intensity of the procedure, and she asked if you wanted to speak to him you swore under your breath before reassuring her. No. It’s fine. In fact, don’t even tell him I called.

Malcolm can have a sick day, Martin would never know.

Malcolm stopped vomiting around lunch time, and was all but better by dinner. Martin still hadn’t returned and you got a call from the night nurse to tell you that he was probably not going to make it home before midnight. Great. You got the kids ready for bed and slipped into bed shortly after, promising to tell Martin in the morning what happened with Malcolm. You woke up slightly after feeling Martin kiss you good night as he also slipped into bed after a long day, quickly noting that it was closer to 3am than midnight. You asked him quietly as he holds you close to him how it all went and the grumble that came with it suggests that it wasn’t a success. You move to grab his hand and rub your thumb against his arm in comfort as you both drift back off to sleep.

Martin insisted on taking Malcolm to school the next morning, having barely had three hours sleep but needing to be with his son for that thirty-minute trip to school before heading to work. You got Ainsley to preschool before heading off to your work for the day, coming home after picking up the kids, helping Malcolm with his homework as you cooked dinner and had family time as per Martin’s request. All was quiet and easy, just a regular day. Content, you were convinced you managed to get away with bending Martin’s rule slightly. Then the kids were in bed. And it was like the atmosphere had changed.

Walking up to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel something akinned to dread filling the pit of your stomach. When you entered your shared room, Martin was there removing his cuff links and humming to yourself. Just anxiety, you tell yourself. Everything is fine.

You go about your usual nightly routine silently, both in your own thoughts. Martin is the one to break the silence.

“You’ll never guess what Malcolm’s teacher told me today.” You hum in acknowledgement, not completely listening as you come out from the bathroom and towards the bed. “She said that it was great to see Malcolm feeling so much better after having to stay home yesterday.”

Your heart stops. Shit. You knew you forgot to tell him something this morning. The look on his face is positively feral as you try to get your words together.

“I’m so sorry Martin, I called but you were in surgery, and I-” Your words come tumbling out in a large mess as you try to explain

“Oh no love. I don’t think you deserve to call me that tonight.” His voice is low, dark, and you know instantly, you’re going to be punished. And not in a good way.

You swallow and try again as he slowly makes his way over to you, eyes never leaving you. “Sorry, Doctor Whitly. I called to explain the situation, but you had already started surgery. I didn’t think you wanted to be interrupted, so I called Malcolm in sick. I was going to tell you this morning but with the rush and you didn’t get in until 3 I thought perhaps, I could just let it slide for now, tell you maybe tomorrow when things were calmer. He was really very sick.” You finished before adding a smaller apology at the end of your ramble which causes him to send you a small, firm smile as he rubs the sides of both your upper arms in a comforting manner.

“I know you are, love.” His voice seems to calm you for a second. “Unfortunately, you still need to be punished.”

You aren’t sure if you’re excited or nervous as he moves to sit at the edge of the bed and pats his lap expectedly. “Mar-” The look on his face makes you change your tactic. “Doctor Whitly, is this really necessary?” His look darkens, clearly about to give you your first warning. You tried, with very little success, to drape yourself across his lap with some dignity. He moves your hips until your hips rest tilted up towards him in his lap as the rest of your body drapes across and dangles either side of him.

“You’ve been so disobedient; do you really think you could get away without some form of punishment?” He chides you as he harshly yanks down your shorts and panties, leaving your ass bare. “Do you remember what I expect of you?”

You nod and yelp as you get a warning tap to your rear, not hard enough to sting but enough to prompt you to verbalise. “Count, thank, apologise.” You recite. “Be truthful with colour checks, green is good, yellow is ok, red is stop. Safe word is thoracic.” He rubs your thigh as praise as you go through your script before tapping at them to get you to spread them slightly for better balance.

“Let’s see, you called me during a very important, career changing surgery, only to hang up and waste the nurse’s time. You made an important parenting decision for my son without consulting me first. You then forgot to tell me the following day and I had to find out from Malcolm’s teacher. You have refused to address me properly twice just this evening. Five strikes for each count I believe is fair, don’t you dearest?” You knew that it was a trick question, if Martin thought the punishment was fair, that’s the punishment you’re going to get. Nonetheless, he always asks if you agreed.

“Yes, Doctor Whitly.” You state quietly as you prepare for the punishment to begin.

You can hear your husband hum happily at your words before lifting his hand, ready for the first strike. “Don’t forget, Y/N, if you miss one, we start again.”

You squeak when the first smack hits your left cheek, the sting instant and the heat follows soon after. Your face seems to heat up in embarrassment as you breathe and prepare for the second, not realising what you had forgotten until Martin clears his throat. Quickly, you fix your mistake. “One. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.” 

Its rushed, but the words are all there. He is tempted to have you start again and add another five to the list. You seem to be shaking as you wait for him to either smack you again or tell you to start again. “I will forgive your forgetfulness this one time, pet.” He states somewhat kindly before his hand makes contact with your right cheek, again the sting appearing before the heat.

“Two. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.”

Martin continues with your punishment, stopping for long enough for you to state the number you were up to, thank him for your punishment and apologise for your transgressions. The power he got from you calling him by his medical title is something he’s never been able to find elsewhere, and he is enjoying every moment. He made sure never to hit the same place twice and watches as your flesh seems to ripple against his hand in an appealing manner. Your skin is slowly turning redder by his hand as he moves down to mark up your thighs to match your now cherry red ass. Such a nice colour, his favourite colour on you.

The first smack to your thigh surprises you. You hold back a swear as you continue you’re your count. “Nine. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.”

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” You grunt at the next strike to your left upper thigh, you are sure this one was harder than the others. “Ten. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.” There seems to be a pause as you shift slightly in his lap.

“You’re not enjoying this, are you? This is supposed to be your punishment, pet.” His bemused voice fills the room as your already red face flushes further.

You had been trying to ignore the heat in your belly that had been growing with each passing strike and how you were slowly becoming wetter as time went on. “I’m sorry, Doctor Whitly, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, but you did.” His palm lands flat against your ass again as he moves to see how wet your cunt is as you continue with your count. “You really are a bad girl, ignoring my rules, enjoying your punishment. I’m convinced you break my rules so you can be back in this position.” You bite back a moan as a finger is pushed inside of you and just held there. You don’t dare buck up against him, or grind or beg for more. This was a test. You just knew it.

Again, he chuckles as he removes his finger and smacks your thighs twice each side in quick concession. You hurry to catch up with your mantra as he sucks your juices off his finger. “Good girl.” He rewards, moving to soothe the angry red skin. “Only ten more to go, can you handle it?” You nod, looking straight at the door as you wait for the rest of your punishment.

The final ten strikes come quickly after you’ve counted, thanked and apologised Martin. You are sure you are going to have bruises and there isn’t a part of your thighs and ass that isn’t red in some way. Martin is quick to rub every red area with his hand as he soothes you, praising you for doing so well, asking if you wanted ointment to help with the bruising and pain. You hum, which he takes as a yes because soon he’s rubbing something into your skin and your shorts and panties are pulled up and over your bum again, keeping you decent. You had two little ones in your house, pyjamas weren’t optional anymore.

He pulls you up and into his lap with your knees either side his waist as he holds you and rubs your back, making sure you’re ok as he hums you small tunes and makes sure you are ok.

“Did you want me to help with that?” He asks, indicating to the wet patch clearly growing on your panties. You were absolutely dripping but the idea of anything touching you wasn’t something you were keen on right now. You shake your head.

“Just hold me?” Martin smiles at your request.

“Oh, I think I can do that. Let’s get on the bed properly love.” He brings you up to the top of the bed and towards the centre so the two of you can rest together properly as he continues to take care of you, making sure you are safe in your own mind and not in need of anything. “Tea?”

“No, I don’t know what blend you use but it always makes me super sleepy.” You complain as you yawn loudly. “And I’m sleepy enough as is. Thank you, though.” He just looks down at you with a smile as you snuggle closer to him and bring the blankets over you, you still straddling him as he holds you close. “I was going to tell you. I didn’t mean to keep it secret, I just didn’t want to interrupt your surgery and it wasn’t a big deal. Just a tummy bug, really.”

“I still would have liked to have known what was going on. He’s our son, I just want to be involved with decisions made.” He explains gently, seemingly calmer now you were talking properly again.

“I know. I just didn’t know what to do because I can’t make decisions without talking to you first, and I can’t call you during surgery. It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place.” You explain carefully. “I do love you, and I’m sorry I forgot to tell you. I’ll work on that. But there has to be a way that you feel like I am doing the best for your – our – kids whilst taking your thoughts and concerns into consideration. I wouldn’t of kept Malcolm home if it was just a cold. He was throwing up and, although he didn’t have a fever, there was no way he was going to be able to pay attention in class.” Martin hums as you explain the situation. “What if, if something like that happens again, I call your office and leave a message? That way you’ll know before you get home and I won’t interrupt your work?”

Martin thinks over this for a second before nodding. “Seems like a good compromise.” You smile happily. “I love you too, by the way.”

“I know you do.” You yawn once more before settling on his chest.

“You’re sure you’re ok?”

“Yup. Just comfy. And sleepy.”

He laughs quietly as you quickly fall into a slumber in his arms, him following your example merely seconds later, both of you holding each other in your arms.