#c morgan

[trippin-chippin]

MINI MAN MORGAN 💪

[grymghoul]

ARTHUR MORGAN has an impressive cock. You'd always figured a man who carries himself so surely would have one like that. Thick and heavy, crowned with hair a bit darker than what was on his head. The way it would always be half hard anytime he was around you was flattering. The way he'd take up all the space in that hotel room, striding around, parading naked, he'd steal the air from your lungs. The way it'd pat against his thighs as he took heavy steps through the room. You'd stare and he'd look away, flush in the face. There was an inherent sense of boyish charm about him, how he could be so rough and callous, but the second he was alone with you he was nearly shy. Intimacy with Arthur was earned, a privilege, not a thing to trifle with. He'd given it to you and you hadn't even realized how hard it was to earn this from him.

He blushed bright red when you'd seen it the first time, that breathy "Oh, Arthur.." had sent a chill down his spine. Arthur was extra careful with you, fearing he'd split you right in half on his cock. There was no hiding it. The way his ranch pants would be fuller around you, the obvious bulge of denim stretching around it. He loved that you could try to swallow it all you wanted and you could still grip fingers worth of it as his tip touched the back of your throat. He loved being able to have you seated on top of him and see his dick fucking you from the outside. A firm hand pressed against you, making you tighter and he could feel the way he so lovingly damaged your sweet pussy.

He would torment your guts almost effortlessly. He'd have you gripping the sheets, choking back moans and sobs and all manners of pretty noises in a hitched tone without even trying. He wasn't an egotistical man, but he knew it couldn't be like this for every man or no job would ever get done in the world. It'd come to a stand still as everyone would be lined up to fuck the next man. No, no he had to have something special with you. He was easily enamored with you and how you'd feel wrapped all warm and tight around him. How snug you were.

Each time felt like the first with Arthur. The way he filled you and would have you swollen and sore the next day. Even after the bath you'd end up in together, he'd keep you there, wet and sudsy against him and his thick member until you had pruny fingers. He loved that you were a whiny mess just from being near his cock.

You were made for him by God, he wasn't religious but he was sure of it. You fit better than any glove or shirt or saddle he could have tailor made. You were just as addicted to him. The way his flared head could take up residency inside you made you know that there was some higher power and they were merciful in such a way for you to have a taste of heaven on earth with your Arthur.

[happy74827]

A New Moon

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite his gut telling him he shouldn’t, Dexter can’t help but fall deeper into the trap of his own emotions. And the more time he spends with you, the more he starts to realize what exactly those emotions are. {GIF Creds: beautifulguycollector}

WC: 2889

Category: Slight Lime/Spice, Friends to Lovers + Forbidden Love (if you squint) Tropes

Gotta keep this fandom alive somehow 🥲 (also… why are titles so hard to write? That and the synopsis are harder to write than the actual fic)

『••✎••』

You were too good for him. Plain and simple. You were a smart, beautiful, hard-working woman who had goals and dreams. He was a cold-blooded killer. Not to say that he hadn't been there for you, though. The two of you had been friends since… well, a while. A long while.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he started to notice the changes in your relationship. It was a slow, subtle buildup, and the first time you called him your friend, Dexter thought nothing of it. The second time, it made him pause, but not enough for him to consider what the implications of you saying that to him could mean.

But when you said it again and again and again, he realized the meaning behind your words, the affection they held. Dexter couldn't say that he was particularly close to many people. There were a select few he'd consider his friends, but he wasn’t emotionally invested in any of them. And he didn't think he was invested in you, either.

But maybe he was.

Debs was different, and it made him question how much he was supposed to care about someone. But that was his sister, the one person in the world who loved him unconditionally. That reason alone made his relationship with Deb unique. He was sure of that.

The same went with Brian—his brother, as it turned out. And Harrison, his son. Dexter felt things for those people, but they were different. Those were family, the people he was genetically tied to. Of course, he would care about them.

But you weren't family, and yet he still cared about you. It was a different kind of caring. And it was confusing. Dexter had convinced himself for years that he was a high-functioning sociopath, but lately…

Lately, he was beginning to question if that was true. Simple glances from you could bring an unwelcome smile to his lips. And when he heard the sound of your voice, he could feel his chest getting warm. It was a nice feeling, something he'd only experienced briefly with Rita, but then, that relationship was different too.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but being with you was just… easy. And it didn't feel like work. There was no pretending. Dexter didn't have to act when he was around you. He didn't need to try to be someone he wasn't. It was the real him.

It was terrifying.

Because now, as he sat on your couch, watching as you moved gracefully around your small apartment, the feeling was back, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He should have been home with Harrison, but the little boy was staying over at Debra’s tonight, so he didn't have any responsibilities. The passenger within him didn’t see it as a problem either, considering he’d just recently “disposed" his latest target.

It was nice, Dexter decided, to relax every once in a while. Work and family didn't give him a lot of opportunities to do so, and now that the two were temporarily taken care of, he felt he deserved to be lazy for a bit.

You didn’t have a TV in your living room, so the two of you settled for movies. Dexter didn’t really have a preference for them. He could watch a comedy, action, drama, or horror and not feel strongly for or against any of them.

Apparently, you didn't mind what he watched either because he could see the spark of excitement in your eyes when you pulled out the case for one of the worst comedy films Dexter had ever seen.

He'd seen it before. Not with you, one of the movies Vince shoved down his throat when he planned a night out with him, Angel, and Quinn.

It wasn't his favorite, not by a long shot, but the grin on your face and the way you eagerly skipped to the DVD player, set the disk inside, and closed the hatch made him bite his tongue.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that you were a very expressive person. And even though most of the time your feelings weren't displayed on your face, your eyes told another story. Such opposites to his own, Dexter often found himself fascinated by the light they held.

You had a passion for life that was rare, and it drew him in. It was a quality he lacked, and he could see it in everything you did. Whether it was talking about the newest book you read or making coffee, you put all of yourself into your actions.

It was something that Dexter had never understood. How could you have such a strong sense of self? Didn't it get tiring, having to live up to a standard of being so… so good?

But then again, you'd always been better than him. He might’ve been smarter in some regards, but what was intelligence if it didn't come from a place of morality? You were better, purer than him. He knew it, and everyone else did, too, even if they weren’t aware of how pure he wasn’t

That's why this was so wrong. This thing that had been going on for the past couple of months between the two of you. The subtle touches, the longing stares, the late-night calls. It was all wrong.

You were similar to Rita in some ways. You were kind and compassionate, always looking for the good in others. You had a knack for taking care of people, whether they needed it or not.

Dexter could tell that was your nature, and it was one of the things that initially attracted him to you. All the things he lacked, you had. But that didn't mean that you could replace Rita. He didn’t want you to.

And that was the difference. While he may have found qualities in you that resembled the ones he'd found in Rita, you were not her. Rita was gone, and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve to die, and yet she did. She deserved to grow old, to see Harrison grow up.

She deserved better.

The same went for you. You didn’t deserve a monster like him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that he should stay away. It was for the best of both of you.

And yet he was here. On your couch, watching a shitty movie and drinking the beer you'd offered him. Because, despite his efforts, he couldn't keep his distance from you.

He should've known. When it came to you, Dexter didn't have a choice.

His gaze drifted over to your form as you sat down beside him. You were smiling, your eyes bright and focused on the television. A lock of hair fell across your face, and you pushed it back, the sleeve of your hoodie falling down slightly.

Dexter had never been so tempted to reach out and touch someone in his life.

It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him the last few weeks, and now, sitting with you, watching a bad movie, it was at an all-time high. He'd never craved intimacy. But there was something about you, a pull that he couldn't deny.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Reminded him of that need with Lila. God, Lila. What a mess that had turned out to be. Another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes.

And yet, the longer he stared, the more he found himself leaning forward. He didn’t register what he was doing until his lips were a hair width away from yours.

You froze but didn't move away. The only indication that you were startled was the widening of your eyes. They bored into his, unflinching. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He was scared. Scared? Yes. That was what he was feeling. Why? He didn't know. Fear was new. It was a feeling reserved for Deb and sometimes his son, but even then, it was different.

But as Dexter gazed at you, so close and so beautiful, the fear melted away. It was replaced by a warmth that he was quickly becoming familiar with. It made his body thrum and his blood rush. It made him feel alive.

You were the first one to make a move. Well, not really a move, just the smallest shift forward, and then you were breathing the same air as him. You weren't kissing. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to make the final move.

It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you, the power dynamic. He was the dominant one, and you were the submissive. You had never fought against it. You were a people pleaser, and he knew that.

It was one of the reasons he knew this was wrong. Because he couldn't stop, and you would never ask him to. Even now, as he hesitated, you waited patiently. You trusted him.

Why did you have to trust him? Why couldn't you be more selfish, more like him?

But deep down, Dexter knew that it wasn't your nature. You couldn't change, not any more than he could.

So, after another agonizing second, he closed the distance between you.

It was gentle, the way his lips pressed against yours. A stark contrast to the usual forcefulness he applied when taking his victims. No, with you, he was careful. Almost timid.

Your lips were soft and smooth, and the kiss was sweet. Nothing more than a simple caress. Dexter didn’t expect the tingling sensation it would cause, but the slight brush of your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

The kiss was short and chaste, but it was enough to leave him feeling dizzy. The heat spread through him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his cheeks.

Dexter pulled back, and you stared at him. His breath hitched in his throat at the look in your eyes. There was something there, something that mirrored his own emotions.

Was it possible? Was he really capable of such intense emotion?

Maybe he was.

You didn’t move. It was like time had stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was his own uneven breathing. That, and the movie playing in the background, which was forgotten as soon as your lips touched.

The urge to reach out and grab you was there. He could feel the need deep in his bones, in his soul. But instead, Dexter sat, staring. Staring into the eyes of the woman who had somehow managed to break down all the walls he'd spent his life building.

You didn't speak. There was nothing to say. No words could describe the feelings that had surfaced between the two of you. So, instead, you smiled. A simple, beautiful smile that had him feeling weak.

He could have stayed there forever, just looking at you, taking in the beauty that was you. It was a new experience for him, and it was nice.

“Debra is going to be pissed," you finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be bullied into telling her every detail."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then, his lips curled up in amusement. It was true. Eventually, she’ll figure it out. Maybe she already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Debra was good at figuring out things, even if it wasn’t the most obvious answer.

His sister was good at a lot of things, like being a detective. And, apparently, being an interfering matchmaking nuisance.

At least she wouldn’t call you the things she called Lila.

The thought made him chuckle, and you looked at him in confusion, but it would have to stay a mystery to you. For what was life without a few private jokes between siblings, right?

You didn’t press for answers, though. You did what you’ve always done and waited for him—waited for him as if it was his turn in Chess.

And he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed you again. And again. And again. And again. Until he had you pinned beneath him, your arms around his neck, and your breath coming out in heavy gasps.

The kisses were still innocent, just as you were. But he could feel the passion behind them, the hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. It had been a long, long time.

But the longer he kissed you, the more the heat grew, and soon, he was lost in the sensation. Your hands found their way into his hair, and you tugged at the strands. His heart was racing, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

It was exhilarating.

Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the innocence was gone. Replaced by a desire that left him trembling. The feeling of your tongue against his, the taste of you on his lips, the smell of your shampoo mixed with your unique scent—it was all intoxicating.

The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten as you pulled him closer. The warmth in his chest intensified, and Dexter didn't fight it. Instead, he embraced it. He gave in to his emotions and let himself feel.

He didn’t go too far; he knew you weren't ready for that yet. The craving was there, and it was strong, but the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he satisfied himself by touching your skin, mapping out every inch of it, memorizing the way it felt under his fingertips.

And, when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he held onto you, refusing to let go. His eyes searched yours, searching for something. Anything. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

He mostly saw fear, anger, and some regret when he had them pinned down beneath him. Of course, that was usually the case with his victims. Fear, anger, and regret were normal emotions—a reaction to being trapped by their own demise.

Having someone look up at him with emotions on the other side of the spectrum was different. Not a bad different, just... different.

Rita had been the first to look at him like that. Lumen did, too, once upon a time. And Lila, well, her emotions were never consistent.

But you? You looked up at him with an expression that was all too familiar and yet not quite the same. Your eyes were full of affection and desire, yes. But they were also filled with something else. Something he couldn't place.

Something he couldn’t understand.

"Dex,” your voice was so soft, a whisper. He almost didn’t hear it, and yet, he felt it. He felt the way his name rolled off your tongue, and it was like music to his ears.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. He didn’t know why he did that; it wasn't like the two of you were speaking in a library or something. Maybe it was the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the colors reflected off the white walls, casting an ethereal glow.

"I didn’t expect you to be… like this," you murmured. You ran a finger over his cheek, down to his jawline. He swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse quicken.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Not bad," you replied. Your lips curved up, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were red and swollen from kissing, and it was such a contrast to the pale skin of your face.

"You think I'm not bad?" he said, raising his brows. "I'm flattered."

You shook your head. "You know what I mean," you said. "I just meant that you're different than how you come off. I didn’t think you'd be so... bold.”

He snorted.

Bold.

If you only knew.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," he said, smirking. You rolled your eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, only for him to catch it and press a kiss to the back of your hand. It was something he picked up from a movie once, and it seemed to be a pretty romantic gesture. And by the look on your face, it seemed to be appreciated.

You didn't say anything else. You didn't have to. There was nothing else to say. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company, content to just be together. The movie might've been a failure, but the night wasn’t.

And when Dexter finally left, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Not the type of relief he felt after a successful kill, but the type of relief one feels after a burden is lifted off their shoulders. The type of relief one gets when they are finally honest with themselves.

Rita was gone. Lumen was gone. And although his guilt and shame were still there, his self-loathing and fear were slowly starting to fade away. It wasn't gone, it was never going to be, but it was a start.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

A new moon.

Yes, tonight was the night that changed everything. Tonight, Dexter Morgan learned that maybe he was more than the monster he thought he was.

[afacelesschampion]

I'm not joking; I kill people. Whoo. There it is again.

[papa-evershed]

THE KILLSUIT 🔪🩸

Michael C. Hall as DEXTER MORGAN

[megustasqualo]

damn dex

[jakegyllenbaalz]

dexter morgan icons (dexter tv show, 2006 - 2013)

[willieverseetheland]

like you mean it (pt. 1)

Dexter Morgan x fem!reader

Summary: You haven't felt very appreciated by your (serial killer) boyfriend recently, so he shows you how much he really cares.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, implied smut, language

Pt. 2

From the moment that you met Dexter, you knew he wasn't like everyone else. He can be a little socially inept at times, as well as insensitive. However, at the same time, he's incredibly loving, charming, and funny. You love him and all his quirks. Compared to the men you’ve been with in the past, he’s a saint. He's respectful, kind, and you actually feel safe with him.

But at the end of the day, he’s still a man.

He has a hard time seeing things from your perspective, which can cause a lot of arguments, that are almost always one-sided. You try not to nag but it's hard feeling like the only one putting in effort. He often forgets the things that you tell him. You figure he doesn't find importance in the same things that you do. Lately you've been feeling a little neglected. Monday you asked him to come over for dinner, but he said he was busy. Wednesday you asked him to go lunch with you on his lunch break, he said he was busy yet again. You had a movie date planned for Friday; he bailed last minute because he was...busy.

You always get excited thinking he’s going to say yes, planning cute outfits, spending time on your makeup and hair, all for him to say no. You end up sitting on your couch in front of the tv, with a pint of ice cream instead.

Finally you convinced him to come over tonight. You would love for it to be a relaxing and romantic night, but you know you need to have a talk with him. You hate having these talks because it can feel like talking to a brick wall at times. You know he means well; he just doesn't see it the same way or doesn't even mean to make these mistakes in the first place. But it is hurting you, and you're tired of feeling like your boyfriend doesn't want you.

Of course, he won't be here until late. He has to "take care of a few things first". You knew blood-spatter analysis was a complicated job, but you didn't think it would require this much overtime...

Even though you're slightly mad at him, you don't want him to starve so you make dinner for the two of you. As you're setting the table you hear your apartment door unlock.

In walks Dexter, with his adorable face and dorky smile. You may be irritated but you can't help but smile at the sight of him.

"I made dinner, would you like a beer?" you ask

"Sure" he says with a soft smile

He comes over to give you a kiss on the forehead. You make a half-ass smile in response. When you don't kiss him back or even look at him, he can tell something is wrong.

"What did I do?" he frowns

You immediately sigh

"Dexter, I...I just feel like you don't care. About me, about us."

"What? That's not true at all, why do you think that?" He exclaims

"You've been so distant recently. Gone all the time, always bailing on our dates, always busy, you hardly call or text! I just wish you would put in a little more effort, that's all." You can feel tears begin to form; you didn't realize you were this upset about it.

"Y/n, you know I'm busy with this case, they just really need me right now." He's looking at you, looking through you. You can't read any emotion or remorse on his face. This only makes you want to cry more.

"It feels like I don't mean anything to you! I feel like you don't want me anymore." You can feel your face getting hot and your chest tightening. "Fuck, do not cry right now" you think.

You bring your hands to your face, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to ward off the tears.

"What do you mean? Of course you matter to me; I've just been busy." he has a look of confusion, like he can't understand why you would feel this way. He's here now, isn't that all that matters?

"Well, it just doesn't feel like you mean that."

"Well I do, you're my girlfriend, of course I want you." he sighs

"Then prove it! Show me that you mean it." You look into his eyes, you think you finally see it, regret, remorse, guilt.

He brings his hand up to your cheek, he finally sees how upset you are. You sink into his touch, stepping closer to him.

"How? Change? How do you want me to show you that I want you? That I care?" He's looking into your eyes, brows furrowed.

Even with all the hurt and anger, all you want to do in this moment is kiss him. Feel his body against yours. Not only has it been long since you've had any quality time or even a deep conversation, but you also haven't had sex in weeks. You feel guilty for thinking that in this moment, but you just want to feel close to him, connected.

You place your hand over his

"Stay the night. Be with me... Fuck me, like you mean it. Like you want me, like you care."

SURPRISE BITCHESSSS! I told y'all I was on my writing GRIND. If you want a part 2 lmk! Someone return the favor and write Dex fics for me please and ty <3

[mamirhodessxox]

I can fix him chat

[baltharino]

DEXTER | 1x05 "Love American Style"

[maycanady]

If God is in the details, and if I believed in God, then he's in this room with me. I just wish he'd brought an extension cord.

DEXTER 1.02 "Crocodile"

[trippin-chippin]

BAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHA THE WHOLE DRAWING IS FUNNIER BUT AHAHWUKBEDDKQUBJHBEQJBQEX

SHE LOOKS SO CONCERNED HHWHAHAAHAH

[grymghoul]

Arthur gripped your hips, he suggested this position, not really suggested. He mostly had lifted you off him the second you had clenched around him, he took advantage of your orgasm to reposition you. His hand held your hips, keeping you up. He gave the curve of you ass an affectionate pat. "You're alright.." His voice was soft, the roughness of it soothing your nerves as your thighs trembled. "Arthur.. please." You weren't even sure if you wanted a break or more, the please seemed to go either way. "You okay?" He mumbled, that rough hand that was always gentle with you smoothed up your spine to the nape of your neck as he leaned over to kiss your shoulder. You panted as you nodded, soft hairs stuck to your forehead. "Want more?" It took you a second to process what he was asking and before you even processed what you were doing, there was a faint nod. He smiled against your skin, "Atta girl.." Arthur had never ending praise for you. For even the simplest of things. A good job for eating dinner or waking up in the morning. Any act of living earned praised, you were his world. His girl. His everything. During these tumultuous times, he found solace in the tiny hotel room he was able to steal you away in. He was able to pretend it was all different. Maybe you two had a home or at least the gang wasn't falling apart.. he snapped out of it as he leaned back, bringing your hips up again.

He eased into you, a breathless gasp followed by a higher pitch moan left your throat. He kept your back arched with one big hand pressed between your shoulders as his other gripped your hip. His blunt nails biting at your skin, leaving little crescents. He wasn't being particularly gentle but nonetheless paused to catch his breath. Your velvet walls were clenching around him, almost painfully tight and too hot. He let out a throaty groan, it came from up in his chest. Almost a breathless noise. Arthur threw his head back, his fingers drumming on your back lightly. He huffed, pulling his hips back, he could feel how you suctioned around him, so he didn't pull out completely. He didn't was to lose that. He snapped his hips, grinning at your breath hitching, nice and loud. You had abused your pussy riding him, until she was puffy and soaked. He offered occasional help, but he mostly thrusted upwards to surprise you when he felt you getting close. He liked watching you do all the work, so it was time to return the favor. Each time he pulled out and rolled his hips forward, they got faster and stronger. He leaned over you, slowly pressing his chest to your back. It was strong and warm, damp with sweat and his hair soft. His hand flew to the headboard, caging you between one arm next to your head and his firm bicep. Built like a piece of sinewy lumber, strong and unmoving, he had you trapped. The noises coming from your dripping cunt were filthy. How could you be soaked for him? A tough, gritty man. A killer. An outlaw. A bad, bad, bad-

"Arthur..!" The way you squeaked his name caught his attention, he could feel your walls around him, shit, your poor pussy never caught a break. He could feel you clenching and writhing and your nails dug into his thick wrist. But he didn't let up, even when you were pushed forward by the sheer force of his thrusts. "Don't- run from me." He gritted out, teeth clenched, his head pressed to the back of yours. His arm shifted, his forearm pressed to the front of your shoulder, keeping you from jolting forward. You were ruining the sheets, his thighs were sticky and slick with you, his dick coated in your cream, his hairs frothy. He wasn't even attempting to quiet himself now. "God.. damn it." Your legs gave out without his hand holding you up, you pressed flat on your stomach, feeling the sheets sticking to your wet skin, beads of sweat sliding down the column of your neck.

"Look'atchu.. You're a good girl.." His praises deep and guttural, he pressed you further into the mattress. Your moans had progressed into soft screams, your face half hidden in your pillow, hair messed. His hand that wasn't white knuckling the headboard slid between the mattress and you, finding your clit. Poor thing was twitching at just the slightest touch from him. "There ya go.. Takin' me and lookin' so pretty.." His lips pressed to the crown of your skull, your hair tickling his nose. With just a few soft circle from his finger, he ripped another orgasm out of you, you soaked his cock while he pounded you into the mattress. You were a sobbing mess, choking on your words. A mix of please, Arthur, I can't do it and don't stop, harder, deeper. He liked fucking the brains right out if your pretty head. Feeling your cunt drenched him and constrict around him so perfectly, like your pussy was made to take his thick cock and keeping it nice and tight and warm, seated so deep within you, made his stomach taught. His own legs trembled at the way his release hit him like a damn freight train.

"Fuck-" he had no words, nothing to describe how it felt, rutting his seed deeper in you with his dick twitching. He collapsed, mind empty, body numb, nearly crushing you and keeping the wind knocked from your lungs. Your hand patted his head. "Good job.. I can't breathe." Arthur's laugh was soft, his eyes closed. "Sorry, sweetheart."

[voosdisastrous]

I love this trend LOL.

[likeafantasy]

[doggirlbuck]