#antonchigurhxreader

[stoneagedevil]

i really liked the anton fic. could we possibly get a small continuation or a separate one entirely? smut included, if possible

Little Bird | Anton x Reader

CW/TW: Size kink if you squint. Smut. Blood/blood kink-ish. No protection. MDNI. Murder. Obsession. Possessiveness.

————

Anton didn’t do “deals.” He didn’t do half-assed jobs. He was the right tool to choose because of the way he operated; swiftly, completely, cleanly (save for the bloodshed), and typically got away with ease. People all over had called him a ghost, the only problem for his targets was that he was very much alive.

There was danger in even seeing Anton, as those who asked stupidly if he was going to kill them, he’d reply, “That depends…do you see me?”

The short answer was yes.

The shorter answer was a bullet in the face.

However, you had always been the exception. You’d seen every square inch of his body, and he yours, but he never intended to put a bullet between your gorgeous eyes. Anton understood emotions to a certain degree. He understood that emotions make people do stupid things, that love hurts and can make a sane man do insane things.

Anton understood emotions to a degree, yes. He just didn’t feel them, not all of them at least.

But the feeling that felt like the devil’s fiery hand crushing his heart was definitely real. He certainly felt his teeth clenching together, slowly tightening until he thought they’d crack. Certainly felt his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel of the beat-up pickup truck he stole.

And why? Well, love he’d assumed.

Anton wasn’t a man to bring you home flowers, or chocolates. He wasn’t a man to say “I love you’s.” He didn’t go to work at 9 and come home after 5. He was a stone cold killer, but damn it if he wasn’t obsessed with you.

You’d had no family, never made friends, and had no qualms about what he did. That’s not to say you couldn’t be friendly when the time arose. You could step up to the plate when you’d have to, and you’d killed a few people yourself a few times, only because you had to. You’d never go out of your way for it like he would. But you were perfect. Always saying the right things at the right times. Tough, but someone who he protected with his life. You’d always gone with the flow, if you needed to pack up at 3am because Anton got a tip that his target had dashed, you’d be the first one in the passenger seat to the vehicle you’d just hotwired. There were times in the most silent drives, he thought that perhaps mind-reading was a real thing. You always spoke with purpose. Always for a reason.

So to reiterate, you were perfect.

And you were currently being held captive by his “boss” because he’d found out that the not-so-little secret of his got out: he’d hired a few men other than Anton. To do a job Anton was already doing.

And now you were collateral.

Anton wondered if this is what Llewelyn Moss had felt. But then again, he couldn’t possibly have known. A man so willing to leave his woman for $2 million in cash wasn’t a man in love. He wasn’t a man to do insane things. Llewelyn didn’t try hard enough, and where he failed, Anton would succeed. He simply had to.

And so, it was set in stone by the stone cold killer. He’d be getting you back, one way or another.

-

He sped into the parking lot of the skyscraper, and although he hated populated cities, rich people didn’t. On the top floor is where he’d find his good-for-nothing boss-turned-target; soon-to-be-turned-cadaver. The truck’s breaks squealed like a pig, and Anton left the cab of the pickup just as fast as he’d stopped it. A slight breeze combed its fingers through his hair as he walked briskly, his feet light in his heavy boots.

An elevator ride later, and he was faced with the large wooden double-doors of his target’s office. If you weren’t in there, you were in the missing floor. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to go looking too far as the minute he rushed into the sterile room, he was met with your eyes, the barrel of a revolver kissing your temple. He stopped then.

“I knew you’d come.” The man said. “You weren’t quick enough to get the man. We were out $2 million in cash and in product, and her life is just a fraction of that.” He sneered. Your eyes never left Anton’s, however. Your body was completely still, mouth covered with duct tape and hands with bloody knuckles bound together at the wrists. You’d caused trouble for them.

That only made him need you more.

You blinked slowly at him, and though you couldn’t say anything, if was thought you both had a secret language; one that never had formed into words. Never needed to, anyways.

You quickly threw yourself to the floor out of the barrel’s line of fire, and Anton wasted no time in bringing up his specially-made suppressed shotgun and shooting off the older man’s offending arm. The revolver and the bastard’s favored limb fell to the ground together, and you quickly rolled away as your captor writhed in shock. Your rolling was not quick enough to evade the blood of a severed artery, and the warm feeling of life itself spattered onto you.

Anton stalked over to you as his victim fell to the floor, growing increasingly weak as the blood drained from his body. It wouldn’t be too long before he’d be food for the worms. Taking out a switchblade and flicking it open, Anton’s large hands worked nimbly at cutting the rope that you were encased in, setting his little bird free once more. You reached a delicate had up to your mouth, violently ripping the tape off with little to no reaction.

He offered you a hand, and without hesitation, you took it. Anton helped you up, and the boss’s flailing had lessened. You both watched, but Anton’s interest laid elsewhere. He turn to look at you.

And there you were. By his side once again, your deep eyes watching the man he’d killed for you die, the man’s blood on your face and all over your body. You licked your lips, wet tongue clearing the blood away from your lips, the metal taste welcoming on your tastebuds. It signified freedom to you. A promise that Anton had made.

“Did he do anything?” Anton asked, almost demanding. His gravely voice conducted your eyes to look into his.

“No. Nothing I cannot deal with.” You replied softly, turning your head back to the body and tilting it.

Anton huffed slightly. Whether it was a release of anger, or a sigh of relief, he wasn’t sure. “Look at me.” He ordered. And you did.

In what seemed like an instant, the desk of the deceased was immediately cleared, your stomach then resting on the smooth wooden surface as Anton pressed himself behind you. You looked behind you at Anton, and he wrapped a single hand around your throat and brought your face to his. He licked the remaining blood off of your lips, moving his hand to your hair and angling your head to gain access to your neck. There, he nipped continuously, noises reverberating from your throat and into the luxurious office. You pressed yourself back into him as much as you could, but he was significantly taller, and your feet her hardly touching the ground.

“Anton.” You whined, the idea of being intimate on the desk and while you’re covered in blood becoming too much. He backed off at the sound of his name falling from your lips, and it was then you felt his hands reach around your hips and begin to unbutton your denim jeans with the same efficiency as he had when he cut away the rope. You aided in pulling your jeans down, along with your panties.

His little bird was free once more.

It wasn’t long before you heard the zipper of his own pants, and instead of turning your head to get a look, you took your hands and grasped the desk - bracing yourself. He’d always given you what you wanted.

No spit was needed, to say the least, and Anton slid in with ease; mostly thanks to you. You were always wettest when Anton had killed someone for you. For you. That was the most gorgeous part of him. Where all other men had limits, Anton had none. It made Anton wonder if he should hunt down every last person on Earth for you.

Anton was a violent man. One who did things quickly.

You were not one of those things.

He took his time with you, feeling you from the inside, and out. Warm, wet, tight, soft. So soft. Your soft skin balanced out the callouses on his hands. His teeth made themselves a home in the flesh of your shoulder, his hard grunts mingling with your soft moans. He tasted metal, far sweeter than the kind he tasted on your lips before. You had no choice but to feel him, as he stretched you out given his size.

Your abdomen tightened, your legs had begun to shake, and you clamped your legs together as you reached what you assumed was the closest thing to paradise. Anton split you open more, pushing deeper, the tightening of your hole - no, his hole - bringing him towards a paradise of his own. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt a warmth flood your insides. Anton bit harder into your flesh, finally releasing the right hold of his jaw after his orgasm. His mouth had blood around it, and he leaned forward once more to kiss you.

He pulled your clothing up over you and fixed it until you were decent, and then did the same to himself.

“You are mine.” He wouldn’t let anyone touch you, and if you were taken from him, he’d re-establish the fact that you were his, in one way or another.

“As if I could forget. As if I’d even want to.” You replied, standing shakily like a newborn fawn. Anton’s intense eyes studied your figure as you walked towards the door, stopping and turning to look at him, your eyes saying, ‘I’d follow you anywhere.’

So he lead the way. You’d hotwired another vehicle, the two of you becoming ghosts once again, and you becoming his little bird encased in his birdcage. His ribcage. Right next to his heart.

————

Thank you for your request anon! 💜

[stoneagedevil]

Coincidence | Anton Chigurh x F!Reader

TWs are sort of self explanatory, it’s a NCFOM oneshot. Guns, blood, drugs, death, etc.

He’d let himself get caught again, going through the paths taken that led him to where he was now; in a rusty, dusty warehouse in the middle of the desert, surrounded by cartel members.

“You been quite the troublesome hunt, ain’tcha?” The ringleader smiled snidely, sneering a silver capped tooth in Anton’s direction.

“Trouble for a few.” He replied, referencing the many replaceable peons the boss sent his way in an attempt to kill him. They’d all been shot to pieces, one bird falling out of the sky after the other. Even so, they hadn’t killed him yet, so perhaps sheer coincidence would kill them.

It’s what brought him here anyway, he supposed.

He heard the crunch of gravel and sand under rubber treads outside. He heard the infuriated slam of the door that followed after the engine was cut. The confusion in the room was palpable.

“Check.” The ringleader demanded to two pawns, and they set an explosive plan in motion they had no clue would be the end of them.

“It’s her.” Her. The one he was being paid to protect. A hotheaded spitfire who seemed to do well on her own. The one with the gift for cooking a product the cartel went crazy for. The one who he had left himself get caught for. He frowned.

This was the coincidence, wasn’t it? She’d never not had a plan cooked up in her clever mind. But when she was shoved into the building by two members without so much as a pocketknife on her, he felt that tight grip of anger around his heart.

She wasn’t stupid, she knew she’d have to be willing to die to do this job, and perhaps it was worth it for the money she made, but they both knew it wasn’t about that. It reminded him of himself. It reminded him of the first time he saw her kill someone.

“Please! I got money I can give ya, and we can jus’ walk away!” An older, white man in a business suit groveled at her feet, his hands raised in submission.

“Alright. How much is your life worth then?” She asked.

“I-I, however much you want!”

“What I want is your soul. What’s equal to that?”

“I, I got $20k in a lockbox around here and I-“

“$20k. Is that what your life is worth?”

“N-No, I-“

“Then it’s not good enough.”

“PLEASE-“

BANG!

She watched him for a moment. Watched the life drain from his eyes like sand draining through manicured fingertips. “Hm.”

She turned on her heel after holstering her pistol, and calmly walked out, and like the loyal guard dog he’d become, Anton calmly followed suit, seeing her in a new light.

But now this was different. She was on her knees with guns to her head, as was he, the only difference is he found cuffs hugging his wrists once again.

They’d emptied her pockets. The only thing she’d brought was the car keys.

“Evening gentlemen,” she smiled, “I thought I’d drop by since you got somethin’ of mine. I’ll take him, and leave, and that’ll be the end of it for y’all.” Calm as always, they made eye contact, and it never broke once.

“The end of it for us, huh, girly? Well I don’t know if you noticed, but you got yerself surrounded, with nuthin but a pair of beater keys.”

“Correct. You’re very observant.” She responded. “How about a trade then? My life for his? You keep me, you let him go. I stay, and I cook for your pack. How does that sound? Being the most successful cartel down south? You’re familiar with my product, ain’tcha?”

The ringleader eyed her suspiciously. “What, you love ‘im or somethin’? That it?”

“Something like that.” She said. “However, I do have one condition for this trade.”

“And what would that be?” He scratched his nose, huffing.

“You let me say goodbye to him.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Anton was thoroughly confused. Here you were, unarmed, valuable, and willing to trade your life for his in what you called an act of love? It’s not that he wasn’t familiar with the concept of love, just the thought of it being directed towards him, and from you of all people, was just not a possibility that had ever crossed his mind.

“Alright girly. We’ll let’cha say bye to yer boyfriend, but after that, it’ll be straight to cookin.” He turned to Anton, “And if you ever set foot on this property, I’ll put a bullet in her skull, got it?”

Anton’s dark eyes met the sinister bright blue ones of the ringleader. He nodded once.

She slowly got to her feet, her eyes never once leaving his, car keys in hand as if to hand them over to him so he could drive far, far away from here without her.

When she got close enough, she tackled him to the ground. Anton’s back hit the floor, and he grunted, bracing himself for his skull to smack onto the cold concrete. It never came, her hand cupping his skull in order to protect it, the other one pressing a button that popped the trunk to the car right outside. Suddenly, an onslaught of gunfire rang from outside, piercing the building’s corrugated metal exterior from side to side, and back again. Handfuls of bullets plunged into the cartel members each, and they dropped like birds, one by one out of the sky.

The gunfire lasted a few more moments, until the magazine was drained, and all was quiet except for the ringing in their ears, and the gurgling sounds that filled the room.

She got up off Anton, brushing herself off, she picked up one of the pistols the expendables dropped and pointed it at the ringleader, who made it out in one piece, but who was bleeding profusely.

“You think I was born yesterday? You take me for an idiot? I’m the most dangerous woman in the world, and you coulda saved yourself a world of hurt for just a while longer if you did well to remember it. Now look at you, I gotta make an example somehow, don’t I?”

“Please, I, I can give you money.” He groaned, tear filling his eyes as the pain became unbearable.

“That’s all I’m ever offered, but it’s never what I’m after.”

BANG.

She bent down, fishing a set of keys from the newest corpse. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“Not in the sense that you mean.”

“Good.” She walked over to him, unlocking the cuffs with one key, and picking another in hopes to find a new vehicle. “The car I drove here is shot, quite literally, so help me find a new one.”

She turned on her heels, and like the loyal guard dog he’d become, he’d follow suit, just as she’d followed him.

As they stepped out into the desert, Anton had caught a glimpse of the hidden contraption in the trunk of the beater. It was a machine gun on part of a bike with the pedal and chain, the wiring attached to a spare car battery helping the gun move back and forth. The passenger side of the trunk was shot to hell.

“It was a simple rig to put together. Trial and error though. The trigger was the car keys, the only thing I knew they’d let me have in my hand.”

“How’d you know it would work?”

“I didn’t. Coincidence.”

He looked down at her, one side of his lips quirking at her cleverness.

“Y’know, I’m thinking about quitting cooking. It’s just not fun anymore. I’m getting bored of it.”

She talked and he listened as they looked for a truck to match the new set of keys, finally finding one and getting in. She pulled a book out of a bag she grabbed from the beater, and continued where she left off as he began to drive like he always did.

“Your life is worth mine then?” He broke the silence, referencing the deal she was striking earlier. While it was unlike him to wonder about the past too much, choosing to focus on the present and the influence the past had, he was curious on if she had meant it, even if the deal was a ruse to begin with.

“Depends on if you think so too.”

“I do.”

She smiled to herself, eyes never leaving her book.

————-

Okay I hope y’all liked that. I know key fobs weren’t invented till the early 80s, but I figured it would be alright for the sake of the story.

I’m currently reading No Country for Old Men, and I could probably recite the entire movie word for word, so I thought maybe the first thing I’ll write on tumblr would be an Anton x Reader. This oneshot was based on my favorite scene in Breaking Bad.

I pretty much choose to be quiet on this app, but I thought maybe I’d put my chips forward here and take a little risk. Let me know if you guys liked it, I know there’s not too many Anton people on here.