marz

she/her INTP

[marzupan]

WHAT'S AT STEAK

Anton Chigurh (No Country for Old Men - 2007) x Reader

You're working the closing shift at a desert diner when a cryptic stranger limps in from the rain. You're underpaid, depressed, and your coworker, Cole, is really getting on your nerves. You wonder if any of it will ever let up.

1,950 words

Includes a made up character for the purpose of this story.

Warnings: none.

Tags: non-local Texan reader, Fem reader, weirdo coworker, kinda casual sexism (reflective of time), 1970's, subtle tension/slow burn 🧇🍴

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WHAT'S AT STEAK

You're scrubbing the counters when you hear the bells above the door jingle. A gust of wet air rushes into the diner, and the hammering rain drowns out the music only to be muffled again at the door's close. Heavy boots scuff on the carpet unhurried. They tap once, twice. You look up.

An umbrella snaps shut flinging droplets and in the same motion a tall man emerges behind it. He flicks the last of the rain off the fabric in one firm shake then wraps it with his palm until it is taut. With his thumb and forefinger he fastens the strap and he lets the handle fall loose in one palm. Both of his large hands still dripping.

He looks at you. Dark clothes and.. a peculiar haircut.

"Evening, sir," you call out.

You look at the time on the wall. Half past ten.

His boots click on the linoleum with a slight limp. He takes the corner booth by the window and leans his umbrella upright by the aisle.

You've walked around to wring out the rag in the kitchen sink. Your knuckles and tips of fingers are red and sudsy under the cold water. A cloud of smoke enters your peripheral and the cook, Cole, bumps into your arm.

"Whoops. Didn't see ya there, miss."

"Please do the dishes," You mutter. "I can't right now."

He grins. "My pa'd fire ya for bein so useless."

You dry your hands on a towel, careful around a fresh cut on your pinky. You'd cut yourself while washing the utensils earlier. You grab a bandaid from the emergency tin under the sink.

"What if I do you instead?"

You ignore him, carefully wrapping the bandaid around your pinky,

"We have a customer. Aren't we closing in thirty?"

He raises a brow. Sees the blood,

"Cain't expect much from a princess."

He flicks his cigarette,

"And yeah, suppose it's fine if it's one. You takin' that order or am I doin' it too?"

"No."

He snickers and steps around the corner to peek out into the lobby. Lingers at the door.

You finish securing the bandaid, and the counters are shining. There's nothing more to clean for now.

When Cole returns, he's pulled out his cigarette. He clears his throat before he moves to take your place, voice low.

"I'm gon' get started."

You grab a menu and head toward the booth.

The man is looking outside with his hands folded, though it's difficult to see through the downpour. Everything is smeared into watercolor, the silhouette of cars and miles and miles of plain desert washed in solemn grey. You notice a beige truck nearby, and as the only patron, know it must be his. A truck driver, perhaps, though still it seems without the gait of one.

His face is devoid of expression.

You set the menu down.

"Here you are. Would you like something to drink?"

His eyes move before his head does. He looks up under his hard brow. His eyebags are deep set, jaw clean shaven. His hair is combed neatly to the side. You've served cowboys and deadbeats but this looks different than any Texan you've seen.

His voice is lower than you expected.

"Coffee, please." He says. "Milk, no sugar."

"Of course. We also have a special deal for wings on Wednesdays."

You gently reach down to flip through the menu. Your bare arm grazes against the man's dark jean jacket. The coldness of it raises goosebumps and you move aside to restore some distance. You gesture at the specials.

"Feel free to look through, sir."

He says nothing. You step away to fix his coffee.

When you return, he's pulled two tissues from the metal dispenser and is wiping his hands down to his wrists, the hem of his jean jacket soaked. He pats them though they do little good. He crumples the tissue, useless, sets them aside.

You place the mug down and the swirl of light brown settles with a clink.

"This should warm you," you say, offering a smile. "It looks like you had quite the journey."

His voice seems to drown out the rest of the noise.

"A journey for stopping at this restaurant?"

"…Yes, it's thunderous outside."

He lifts the mug but doesn't drink it, staring at you,

"I just drove and ended up here."

"Well- I mean it must have been rough."

"I didn't say it wasn't rough. First you say it's a journey, now it's rough. State it how it is."

You open your mouth but close it again. He takes a sip, his still eyes on you, waiting. You take a breath,

"It's just raining."

He sets the mug down, closes his eyes for a moment. Steam curls from the cup. When he talks, his voice remains level.

"Who's the man back there?"

You take a second.

"He's our cook."

He picks up the menu, his elbows on the table, and scans it without rush. His eyes sweeping back and forth as he moves down the page. He then closes it and gently slides it back to you.

"I'll have the sirloin, made rare."

You nod and bring the menu to your chest.

You walk to the kitchen, the doors swinging like saloon shutters and you only notice then your pulse hammering violently in your neck.

The smell of grease and smoke hits you and Cole is slowly pacing back and forth on the checkerboard tiles with a dying cigarette between his lips. The dishes remain stacked in murky green water, and his pack and its contents are scattered on the prep table. You look at it with disdain.

“Table six wants the rare loin.”

Cole slows to a stop. He has sweat forming in the deep lines of his forehead.

"That feller in the booth?"

"Yes, him."

He stubs out the cigarette in the ash tray, rinses his hands, swings open the fridge and grabs the meat with mechanical calm.

"He say anythin' strange?"

"Why?"

"Nothin',"

He throws the steak onto the hot skillet and it hisses violently. He switches on the exhaust and the whole kitchen is submerged in the sound of it. He asks,

"You've plans tonight?"

An ugly feeling emerges in your chest,

"Now is not the time."

"After your shift, silly lady. Maybe hitch a ride. Y'ever been to New Mexico?"

"Don't start, Cole."

"I know you ain't been here as long as I have. And Texas will forever be my home I'll tell you that. But this whole place startin to smell like rot. Like some deer you've hit a week ago marinatin in the sun gettin pecked at by some vultures. You see that every time you drive down to this place, for years and years and you know, might needa change in view. That right."

"What do you mean?"

"And I do dream bout driving past that county line and just keepin' on but to be honest, I wouldn't know what to do once that road ran out. What if there's nothin' there? But, my pa- God, I'm sick and tired of this, should've kept my hands clean-"

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm askin if you're free."

You knock his pack of cigs to the floor. It comes down with a slap, some of them rolling under the tables.

"I'm not free, Cole. I hate this place and unlike you, I'd actually do anything for an out. Sitting around stealing our damn tips, always hitting on me, pressin me- this isn't my fate, don't drag me into it!"

"Woah there, princess." He says, meeting you with wide eyes. "'M askin for a consideration, is all."

"Stop pressin me!"

He slides the steak onto a plate and the blood gathers in a thin pool on the ceramic. He pulls out a steak knife from a drawer arranges it beside the fork, the silverware glinting under the fluorescents. You're breathing heavily. He continues,

"Ain't mean to press. Just."

Cole rinses his hands as you take the plate to rest it on your palm. He's muttering under his breath, hastily untying his apron. You wait for him to enunciate himself. His eyes are bloodshot,

"That ain't no damn trucker."

You push through the kitchen doors.

This time the man is already staring at you. His coffee sits untouched. A cozy melody plays on the jukebox.

You set the plate down, mindful of the space, and when you pull your hands away they are red from the heat. You press them to your apron, and whether it's from the adrenaline or the sting, you will them to stop shaking. Without bothering a smile,

"We close in ten. Thank you."

He hasn't looked away.

"Come here."

You halt as you're turning on your heel. He gently tilts his head to the opposite side of the booth. A smile tugs at the edges of his mouth.

You glance at the kitchen but you don't see Cole. Outside, a thick layer of clouds have rolled in and in the dark you can't see as far out as earlier. Rain splatters against the glass, striking down and again with tremendous force and speed.

You think about how you would get home. How Cole might get home.

You sit.

The whole sky flashes white before thunder splits through the atmosphere. The room is black momentarily, the above-head lights flickering as they swing and the ground trembles under your feet.

The man calmly saws at his steak with the knife, the blade gliding through the flesh. Red myoglobin bleeds out and the meat comes apart easily. He pierces it with his fork, places it in his mouth and begins to chew. You ask,

"Did you want me to watch you eat?"

He glances you, then at your nametag. He saws off another piece. He replies,

"How long have you worked here."

"Tell me your name first."

He pauses mid slice. You hold his stare, and he looks back unwaveringly,

"How long."

"I don't give out my business to strangers. What's your name?"

"You're not a stranger to me. How long."

"Did you hear me?"

Unblinking, his smile reappears.

"My name is Anton."

He resumes cutting until his knife meets the plate with a resounding screech. You answer his question.

"I'm coming up on a year."

Silverware clinks together as he stabs another piece with his fork. Chew, swallow. The rain hammers at the window. The steak is halfway finished.

He pulls another tissue from the metal dispenser. He wipes his mouth with it, and then uses a clean one to carefully slide the flat of his steak knife across, leaving a streak of red.

He grips the knife with his right hand. Turns it over on his palm under the light.

"Your chef come from out west?"

You let it roll in your head. You answer him.

"Fort Stockton. Sometimes he muses how he misses it."

Anton slips out of the seat.

"Excuse me for a moment."

He lays down two twenties. It's too much, far too much. You stare in disbelief and recall that the last time you'd held that amount was when you were allowed to count the bills at the register. You look over your shoulder and watch Anton limp toward the kitchen.

You don't know how long you've sat there.

You’ve fixed his plate and trash out of habit, though you know you may not even bring them back. His umbrella is safe with you, however.

All the noise blends into one, a low hum and the occasional, distant cry and the tremble under your feet. Your eyes drift past the truck.

Beyond this place, the rain is falling somewhere else, too.

__

This song is so vibes; initially released in 77' and the lyrics fit nicely.

[primulaceas]

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

[atomic-chronoscaph]

1970s - photos by Stephen Shore

[littlewhompus]

I can take them both (not in a fight)

[pancakelover891]

It's Too Bad You're Married To Me

Anton Chigurh x Female reader

Word Count:5.2k

Warnings: Smut, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), p in v

He keeps on running away like he always does. But he blames it on his job and not the lack of feelings towards you. It was a mix of both; if you were to be honest it felt like the latter more than the first. Anton wasn't sure how to love you; he wasn't even sure if he could. You weren't sure what was going on with him, but you knew something was up.

The marriage between the both of you was purely a mystery, neither of you really knew how it came to be. But when you thought about it maybe it was for the best that you didn't know. You could only make a guess if he knew, whenever you asked, he would just brush it off. It made you slightly suspicious, but you eventually let it go.

What you do remember was when you first met and when he asked for your hand in marriage, but anything other than that was a blur. Your wedding night was anything but typical. Anton had gotten an offer for a job, of course he accepted it and left you alone. Alone on your wedding night. After that you never expected Anton to be home, just so you wouldn't be disappointed.

The silence was deafening in your house, not relaxing. For weeks on end, you would be alone, only traveling out when you needed to. Since you knew what your husband does, the outside world seemed terrifying. Just sitting on the front porch made you feel nervous. Even in your living room you felt like you didn't belong there. You couldn't help but look over your shoulder every time you took a shower for Christ's sake.

There was always a chance that someone could hunt down your husband and find you. But obviously with Anton as your husband that was very, very, unlikely. 

 You don't mind what Anton does for a living, there were only a few downsides you could think of. Things like being away for so long, the chance of getting caught up in it, and the fact that he kills people. The main one you had a problem with was the first reason,

All you wanted was to bond with him, spend time with him, just be around him. If you were going to be honest you would settle with him just being home, he didn't even have to be around you. 

Something intimate and special, one of love and trust. 

In Anton's point of view, he was obsessed with you, he couldn't get enough, yet he rarely was with you. He knew about his destructive tendencies, so he kept himself away from you, not wanting to harm you. You didn't know that though, you thought it was simply because he felt nothing towards you, it might not be love but it was certainly not nothing.

You thought your marriage was a complete wreck, that anytime he came home, he was going to leave you. He made no hints towards wanting to divorce you, but it just seemed like he would. Maybe deep down you wanted him to leave you, you didn't have the guts to, so if your relationship was to end it had to be because of his doing.

Maybe it was because you thought no one else would want a woman like you, or maybe you were so desperate to get it over with that you chose him. You liked to think it was because of fate, so in that case there was no one to blame. You've felt guilty about it many times, maybe he would be closer with you if you'd treat him better, or if you made the house nicer.

If you just became better, just maybe he would treat you how a husband should treat his wife. Of course he wasn't going to do that, he just wasn't made to be a husband. That didn't stop you from dreaming.

Dreaming of never marrying anyone, never agreeing to this, never meeting him. Those were just dreams though, ones never able to come true, no matter what. Although there were a few times where you dreamed about him.

They were as cold and scary as him. One was where you and he were laying in your bed, bare and sweaty. Heavy breathing echoing in the otherwise silent room. Anton and you had just been making love a few minutes earlier; after reaching your climax you turned onto your side. You could feel the bed move as he did the same. He was staring at you; you could feel it.

His cold eyes were practically burning a hole in the back of your head. What was he thinking about? How did he feel about this? Did he enjoy it or was he merely doing this because he thinks he has to?

You thought he did enjoy it; he finished after all but that was just a normal reaction. He could have hated it and still finished so it really didn't matter. It didn't matter because it was but a dream, because he would have never made love to you, throughout your whole marriage, not once. Sure a few times you were close to it, but it never truly happened. 

Your thoughts seemed to take over without you realizing. It was now night as you came back to reality and not your dream world. The room was dimly lit by an old lamp that coated the room in a sort of warm blanket of light. You were in your bed, dressed in pajamas, just staring up at the aged yellow-white ceiling. There was a soft hum of the air conditioner in the background, you wanted to turn it off but didn't want to get up.

So instead, you pulled the blanket closer to you, trying to stay warm despite the cold air blowing. That didn't work but it wasn't bothering you enough to get up and turn it off. 

You could see the darkness of the night through your window, the stars seeming like grains of sand even though some of them were bigger than the planet you stood on. The stars were practically drawing you in, drawing you back into your fake reality

Only a few minutes later, you snapped out of it when you heard the front door open. Anton was back. Just what you wanted. A sense of dread filled you as you heard his footsteps become louder. Your heartbeat increased as you could see his shadow underneath the bottom of the door. In a few seconds you would be face to face with him.

Your eyes focused on the door as the knob twisted until the door opened, revealing his dark figure. His eyes were the only thing you could make out clearly. They always seemed to be on you whenever he was around. He walked forward into the light, you could see there was a bandage on his face, he got hurt again. 

Whenever he returned, he had some sort of injury whether that be a broken bone, a gunshot wound, or a simple scrape. You never questioned it, you didn't really want to know what he did while he was away. 

Anton moved towards you slowly, like a cat ready to pounce on the unfortunate mouse it's chosen to eat. He sat down on the bed; he sat down rather close to you. What was he doing, what was he getting at here? Why was he all of the sudden being close to you on purpose?

You threw any idea of that out of your head, you were obviously just over thinking about it. There wasn't any hidden message in his actions, you knew that. But still why did your mind wonder about the possibilities of what he could try to be saying? 

His hand crept up the bed until it reached your blanket covered thigh. You could feel the warmness soaking through the thin blanket and onto your skin. The action caused a shive to run up your spine, it excited you in some sad pathetic messed up kind of way. You weren't used to him touching you all that often so when he did, it made you act strange.

Just thinking about it made you feel sad for yourself, you didn't know how to act when your husband touched you. It wasn't even anything crazy, just a simple hand on your thigh, yet it made you feel confused. It left you over thinking about simple actions that shouldn't be over thought.

Anton noticed the way you were reacting, not exactly knowing how you're feeling but he had a pretty good guess. He withdrew his hand, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable or anything.

Being married to him made him act differently towards you. A psychopath like him couldn't feel emotions like everyone else but he knew how he should feel. So, he pretended to love and care for you, but he did a poor job of it. You weren't really sure who he was trying to fool but you let him believe it was working and that you didn't know a thing about him being different.

You sat up, reaching a handout to grab the side of his face. He let you grab him; you were going to do anything bad, that he knew for sure. The bandage was slightly peeling off; you could see underneath it. It was a shallow wound, nothing too bad but it looked like it could be changed.

"How about you I change that bandage for you?"

He didn't respond with words but rather with a simple nod of the head.

The blanket fell off of you as you got up. You extended your hand out for him to grab it, he took it, wrapping his large hand over your smaller one. Anton wasn't a big man, but it was how he carried himself. If height was based on that, he would be huge.

You walked over to the bathroom, leading him into the small room. His body was rigid, if you didn't know any better you would have thought he was nervous. As he stared down at you, you put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down until he was sitting on the edge of the tub. His eyes were now looking up rather than staring down.

His eyes were the one thing that could make you feel any emotion, scared, at ease, turned on, a whole roller-coaster of them. Right now, they made you feel nervous, like they were expecting you to do something. 

Your hand slowly peeled off the bandage he had on his cheek. The wound underneath seemed to be a day old, and rather shallow, just barely scraping the surface. You opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed some antiseptic and bandages. The antiseptic soaked through the piece of cloth rather quickly; the smell of alcohol filled the air.

 You brought the wet cloth up to his face, hesitating a second before pressing it on the wound. His face twisted in pain, but he didn't let out any sound, not even a little gasp. That made you wonder if he was holding it in, or if it didn't hurt that bad. If you were in his position, you would have made some sort of noise. So why didn't he? Maybe it was because he was used to it, or something along those lines.

When it was finally cleaned, you put the bandage on. The feeling of his face was something new to you, you felt his stubble against your fingers, the dips in his face due to wrinkles, it was nice to know what he felt like. A subtle smile appeared on your face before you realized he was staring at you.

You quickly pulled away but before you could fully get away, he grabbed your arm.

"What are you doi-"

He cut you off with a simple look as he rose from the edge of the tub and pushed you back until you were out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Anton didn't fully stop until you sat on the edge of the bed.

"I've realized that the whole time we've been married you haven't asked to be with me. Why?

Did he seriously just ask you that? How could you even respond to a question like that? Just thinking about it made you freeze up, looking up at him, his eyes glaring back. Your mouth opened like it was ready with a response but in reality, you didn't have any. You had to think of something though, you couldn't just not respond to him.

"Well, I don't know, I guess I haven't thought about it all too much, besides I'm sure you're not really into stuff like that."

You almost let out a sigh of relief, that was a much better response then you thought you would have. Anton just looked at you, it was like you could see the gears shifting in his head. 

"I've never hinted at not liking that, so where did you get that idea?"

What was with him and all these questions, why did it matter to him? It wasn't like you were touched starved, whenever you got needy, you took care of it yourself. It hasn't bothered you not being intimate but did it bother him? That would be shocking, but you guessed he was still human after all, and humans have their needs.

"You just seem like the type of person to not really be interested in that sort of thing; I didn't mean nothing by it."

It only took him a second to respond this time.

"Well, I am interested. Aren't you?"

You weren't sure what to say, of course you wanted to be intimate with him, he was your husband after all. Actually, agreeing to do it was completely different though.  

"Don't deny it. I know you want it too."

Really? He wanted to try being intimate with you. There wasn't much to contemplate; after going so long without sex, it was nice to finally get an offer. But there was a small part of you that wanted to decline his offer. You were just a little nervous, you didn't know how he was going to react or do things, but you knew you had to trust him. He was your husband after all.

"That's-uh fine with me, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to Anton, it really doesn't matter to me."

Anton simply shook his head and began to take off his jacket. As you watched him undress you wondered if you should do the same, or if you should do it later. You fidgeted with the top button of your pajamas, not daring to look up at him. He took this as a sign to start unbuttoning your shirt, his hand replacing yours.

It wasn't long until you both were without a shirt. A husband and wife weren't supposed to feel like strangers, but you did. It wasn't like he never saw you bare but it wasn't anything sexual. Now the motive changed, everything else changed, the feeling of embarrassment flooded you like never before. You couldn't help but feel this way, it wasn't like you wanted to.

Your feelings didn't get by Anton; he saw right through you. It was like he could see everything you tried to hide, like it was impossible to keep anything a secret from him. His large hand gripped your chin, tilting your face upwards so your eyes could meet his own. Just the feeling of being watched made you feel uncomfortable.

But for some reason you couldn't look away, his deep brown eyes were practically luring you in. His hand let go of your face and began to caress your torso. Running the back of it against your stomach, all the way up to your breast and collarbones.

For some reason his touch didn't feel cold like it usually did. It was nice.

He turned his hand around, so his palm was now touching you. Anton glided his hand over one of your breasts, playing with the nipple until it hardened with his thumb. You felt your breath get caught in the back of your throat, and of course, he noticed that. 

He took the chance to kiss you when your mouth was slightly agape. His lips were soft and warm against your own, if you were going to be honest, he was a lot better than you thought he was going to be. The kiss you shared was gentle, slow like never before.

It wasn't until you couldn't breathe, he finally broke the kiss. He was also slightly out of breath but not nearly as much as you. Only heavy breathing could be heard throughout the room, it calmed a part of you, the part that was nervous about this interaction.

As you just started to catch your breath, he kissed you again, this time it had more power behind it. The simple kissing between you and him seemed to last forever, you barely even noticed he stopped kissing your lips but rather your neck. It wasn't until you felt his hot tongue lick a long strip down the side of your neck.

You grabbed his head, making him look up at you, his dark brown eyes seeming to beg to continue. That sight alone was enough to make you let go and let him continue his work.

Anton was efficient in almost all parts of his life, he wasn't going to let this be the one part he was bad at. He left little marks along the side of your neck and down your collarbone. Those left you breathless but when he kissed down your breasts and stomach, it made you feel like you were floating. Not from pure bliss but just the feeling of finally getting close to your husband.

He only stopped when your pants got in the way. You tried to take them off yourself, but he quickly stopped you, he wanted to do it himself it seemed. Anton grabbed the top of your pants and pulled them all the way off. Now you were completely bare, everything exposed to him.

His eyes seemed to be soaking in the view in front of him. He sank before you, kneeling right in front of you, his hands seemed to wander onto your thighs. His broad shoulders pressing between your legs, making them spread to accommodate his large size. Antons's head was right up against your soft stomach; his skin was surprisingly cold.

The sight of him on his knees was nearly enough to make you fall apart, a warm feeling slowly crept through your body. It was particularly hot right below where his head was. You could feel his nose pressing into your stomach, maybe you were hearing things, but you could have sworn you heard him breathing rather hardly. Was he smelling you? Obviously, you weren't going to ask him that.

It was obvious he was though.

Anton moved his head lower until he was face to face with your bare cunt. He pressed his face right up against it, smelling you just like before. A feeling of embarrassment flooded you; you couldn't help but push his head away. Yet he didn't seem to budge, rather he stayed right where he was.

"Why are you pushing me away?"

You took a deep well needed breath before you responded to him.

"I don't know, it's just sorta embarrassing, with you being this close and all."

That made him pull away for a sec, just to look up at you.

"But I'm your husband, you shouldn't be embarrassed."

You couldn't believe he just said that. It wasn't like you wanted to be embarrassed; you couldn't help it.

"I know that Anton, just because you said I shouldn't doesn't mean it's going to make me feel any less embarrassed."

"Don't push me away again."

Did he really just ignore you? 

"Fine I won't push you but if you're going to do something, hurry it up. I don't really like it when you're just staring at me."

He simply nodded and went back to his old position. You could feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin; it made you feel real in a sense. Like it reassured you that this was real and not some figment of your imagination. You were about to look down to see what he was doing but stopped once he got a taste of you.

His warm tongue licking a long strip down your arousal, just the taste of you caused his mouth to water. You tasted just as good as he thought you would, maybe even better. He quickly licked you again, this time not stopping. The feeling of your flesh against his tongue was enough to send shivers through his body.

As he continued his attack on your cunt, your breathing started to get heavier, your skin stickier with sweat. You were sorta shocked by how good he was at this, it's not that you thought he was incompetent at this type of thing but just not this good. Maybe it's just beginner's luck. Maybe.

The way his tongue lapped at your folds made you shiver in pleasure, you wished this feeling would never go away. His dark hair tickled the inside of your thigh; it was enough to make you laugh. Not full-blown laughter, but a soft breathy kind of laugh instead. Suddenly Anton held onto your thighs harder, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. If it wasn't for him holding you, you would surely be on the ground.

He wasn't messy in the way he ate you, but was rather collected, almost put together in a way. The only messy thing about this is you; you were a complete mess. 

You could feel your stomach tightening, you knew you were getting close, it was only a matter of minutes. He knew it too; he could tell by how you were reacting. 

Anton started to suck your clit, not hard or anything but just enough to get you bucking your hips. You started to gasp in pleasure; his tongue was working its magic on you. There was a part of you that wanted to look at him, to see what he looked like during this. Did he look like some crazed animal, or did he look the same? This time you didn't have a guess, after all you have never done this with him before.

You gathered all of your courage before redirecting your gaze onto him. He was already staring at you. His eyes were stark and cold, yet they didn't make you uncomfortable. Not like before. Somehow it was different, or maybe you didn't care anymore. You weren't sure which it could be, it didn't matter enough for you to really think about it. 

His tongue swirling around your sensitive bud was enough to drive you over the edge. Your whole body shook as you reached your peak, your loud moans practically echoed throughout the room. The whole time this happened you maintained eye contact. It was like your eyes were locked with his, and there was no way to pull them apart.

As you started to come down from your high you noticed Anton didn't stop. It made you slightly curious on why that was. Wasn't this the time to do the real thing?

You tried to push his head away again. Just like he told you not to.

Anton slapped your hand away, causing you to yelp in surprise. For some reason he felt the need to continue. 

You weren't sure how long you could put up with this. Usually, you were a one and done type of gal, the most you ever had in a row was three. And by the time you reached your third you were about to pass out. You couldn't help it though; it wasn't like you had much action due to Anton being away all the time. So, when you were in the mood, you just used your hand. It worked well enough to not leave you unsatisfied.

Since you had just cummed a few minutes ago, it wasn't long until he got you worked up again. Anton didn't go easy on you this time, he sucked much harder, licking you like he was trying to get your skin off. It wasn't painful but it certainly made you more overstimulated. You were already feeling like you were close again.

All you could think about was how intense he looked. Anton wasn't looking at you anymore, his eyebrows were furrowed, his shoulders like stones. 

Your thighs quivered as you came a second time. You looked like a wreck, your hair was all messy, your skin was flushed, and you were shaking like you had just been out in the cold for hours. 

Of course, he tried to continue but you didn't let him. This time you grabbed his hair, earning a groan from him in the process. You pulled his head away from your apex. He didn't look so happy about this. 

Anton stood up and was about to protest before you shushed him.

"Do you mind explaining to me what that was? Because I sure as hell would like to know."

His anger seemed to fade away; a more playful expression was now on his face.

"Did I do something wrong?"

God, he sounded so condescending. 

"I'm just wondering why you continued?"

"Did you not like it?"

It seemed to be that neither you nor he was answering each other's questions. 

"Just warn me before you do something like that, okay?"

He didn't say anything, but you could tell he understood what you wanted.

Anton started to unbuckle his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. The air seemed to thicken around both of you, it felt like it slowed the two of you down, like it was drawing out each second. It wasn't until he pulled his pants down that you came back to reality, you had to restrain yourself from raising your eyebrows. He was big. Thick too.

You definitely weren't expecting all of that, but you weren't complaining. The both of you were finally bare, you wanted to do it now, but he seemed to be taking his sweet time. Anton sat down on the bed next to you, his hand moved onto your thigh and the other one was cupping your jaw. He pulled your head close to his and started to kiss you.

It was still slow but there was some real power behind it, he was oddly passionate, at least that's what you thought. He seemed so cold all the time, it was nice knowing that he had a soft side too. You almost thought of him as human instead of a cold-hearted killing machine.

His hands were now on your hips; with a sudden movement he lifted you up and helped you straddle him. Anton shifted, so he was now laying on the bed instead of having his legs off the side of the bed. You felt embarrassed but you didn't dare express it, you thought it would ruin the moment. He still knew.

For some reason he was just able to tell how you were feeling, he didn't need to ask you, but sometimes he did. He doesn't know why he asks if he knows already but he just feels the need to.

Anton guided your hips up before aligning himself with your entrance. He slowly let you down, so very slowly. At first it ached a bit from his size, a good ache though, and then it soon became pleasure. You lifted yourself up until he was almost out of you before slamming back down. All you could think of was how good he felt. He almost felt too good.

You put your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself, a part of you couldn't believe you were actually doing this. You were actually being intimate with your husband. Out of all the years you had been married to him you would have never thought it would ever get to this point. 

It felt amazing every time you came back down; he was hitting everything right. Just when you thought it couldn't get better, you felt his thumb rub over your clit, not lazily but softly. The sensation made you shiver with pleasure; everything was just right. He was doing everything you wanted even though you didn't voice it. It made you wonder if he could read your mind.

Of course, he couldn't but you still wondered why he just knew exactly what you wanted. You could feel yourself getting closer again, this would be your third one if you counted right. But it didn't come.

Instead, Anton flipped you over, so that you were the one on their back. He leaned down real close to you; his arms practically enclosed you. A part of you was mad at him for switching positions but that didn't last for long. The way he thrusted was like heaven on earth. He was hitting all the right spots; it made you shake each time.

You were sweating a bunch by this point, your skin was sticky, and so was his. The hair surrounding his face clung to it, for some reason that sight excited you. For a second you watched his face, you watched how it contorted into pleasure. Not to mention his breathing, it was so heavy and animalistic. You wished you focused on him sooner.

All of this didn't go unnoticed by Anton; he was watching you too, and just as turned on, maybe even more turned on then you. You knew you were getting close; he could tell too. One of his hands moved down, between your thighs, and started to help you get there faster. The two of you stared at each other's eyes.

He needed to watch you fall apart; he had to. Your legs started to shake and your moans increased. All of this was like heaven too him, just watching you become so desperate was beautiful in his eyes. You cried out as you reached your peak. The two of you didn't lose eye contact once, both too focused on the other.

Anton wasn't long behind you, just a few seconds later he finished. You could feel his pulsing inside, filling you with him. The look in his eye was like no other, it felt so raw and real. For once in your marriage you actually felt connected with your husband.

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours but was actually minutes. Your bodies were dirty with sweat and other liquid, you didn't mind it though, it felt real and you didn't want to wash that away. But eventually Anton pulled out and laid beside you.

Neith of you spoke, the silence said more than words could.

You started to get tired; you turned onto your side facing away from him. Your mind started to wonder. Anton never acted like this before, so why was he acting like this now? Did something change in him? No, of course, not that was silly to even consider. He couldn't change; it wasn't possible. So why?

All of those questions seemed to fade away as he pulled you close to him. His arm wrapping around your waist and his head nuzzling into the croak of your neck. But there was a new question that popped up in your mind.

Why couldn't it be like this all the time?

[justcallme1anangel]

Call it. No. I ain't gonna call it

[marzupan]

it is genuinely insane to me the untapped creative potential with NCFOM fanfiction/art. x readers, anton x carson wells (it's november 28 it's literally their holiday). anton x llewelyn, sexiest enemies to lovers or stalker trope or rugged cowboy sex and all of the above to ever exist btw and we also have this quote from the book: "The man turned his head and gazed at Moss. Blue eyes. Serene. Dark hair. Something about him faintly exotic. Beyond Moss' experience." Not to purposely misconstrue McCarthy's great writing lmfao, of course there weren't any actual gay desert tension simmering between them cough (and the term exotic was already established as one of anton's defining traits anyway) but ts is so fucking peak its just crazy to me how there aren't like a thousand fics for this lol

[somethingfromfrosty]

simple anton x llewelyn edit feat. du riechst so gut ru cover, because i think it's fittiiing

[despinaxxz]

currently experiencing llewelyn x anton brainrot

[limerami]

Finally finished drawing this mf. Hyperfixation hit after watching some movie clips 😭🙏 couldn't help it and my hand slipped

Drew these first grayscale and later added the sepia tone. I got practice with realistic humans as well as more grayscale painting ^^ These were fun to draw! The actor has a really nice face shape! ✨

[uselesshitman]

— E-excuse me, c-can I help you, sir?... I can... I...

[leftlaine2013]

Anton my pookie bear he's come back full circle in my mind

[leftlaine2013]

Anton again

[mayln1]

Ego death and The Surgeon pt.2

His eyes were glued to the ceiling as he thought about his next move. He was lucky this time, because if he stuck around any longer than he had, he would've been found. And he would've been done. His whole body throbbed with a dull ache due to the Tylenol he was given. It sat bitterly under his tongue as it soothed him, even if the taste was sour and tangy. His arm was the worst part, but he couldn't focus on that, he needed to get out of the motel and back on the road. He sat up slowly and grunted loudly, wincing as he held his arm. He grabbed his makeshift sling and slipped his arm back into it, giving him a semblance of relief in his predicament. He grabbed the TV remote softly before turning on the TV, trying to see if his wreck was on the news, but alas, it was not. He sighed with relief before he looked at the wall phone. He shook his head,

"not yet....I need to sleep."

He then laid back down slowly, his pageboy haircut sprawling out on the pillow before he stared off at the ceiling. His eyes began to grow heavy, but with his instincts, he fought and fought until his eyes traitorously shut and soothed him to sleep. He breathed evenly and with practiced precision. Even though his body protested with each toss and turn, he felt relief and ease knowing he'd be okay.

It was the next morning and he groaned softly as the early sunlight hit his face. He cracked open an eye before he grunted softly, sitting up while rubbing his stubbly chin. He took a good minute to wake up before he planted his feet on the ground, weakly standing. He groaned at the throb in his skull and his arm, it made him nauseous. He stumbled around with sleep still ogling his brain, his feet clumsily finding purchase on the dirty rug. He went to the bathroom quickly and fell to his knees in front of the toilet as he hurled violently into the toilet bowl. He coughed and gagged loudly, his eyes watering from the strain of the action. Once finished, he spat and groaned loudly, wiping his mouth with his hand as he sniffled,

"Christ..."

He spat again in the toilet, seeing some blood in his spit, maybe it was from vomiting harshly, maybe it was from almost shattering a rib or two. He stared at his acidic vomit before he flushed the toilet, breathing heavily. He stood shakily before he turned the faucet on and he sipped some water before spitting it out.

"I gotta get out of here."

He turned his head towards the room, seeing the tarp on the bed, the phone on the wall and his boots scewed around. He stumbled towards the phone before he grabbed the receiver, placing under his ear and between his shoulder. He dialed her number before he patiently waited for a response. Click. He perked up slightly as a tired voice spoke,

"...hello?..."

"Y/N."

"Anton? Where you calling?"

He paused for a good moment before he spoke gruffly,

"my car is done for...I need to get back on the road, doesn't matter where, just far from here."

"what? Are you saying you need a ride?"

"....yes."

A tired sigh could be heard before she spoke,

"Fine. But you know I'm only a doctor, not a taxi driver."

"I have money."

There was a silence before she spoke,

"how much?"

"$200."

She contemplated it before she spoke

"alright. That sounds like a plan, but if you get in trouble, I won't be your lawyer too."

His lips quirked slightly in a smile before he went back to his stoic facade,

"deal. No lawyering."

She chuckled before she spoke,

"I'll be there in a bit, just sit tight."

"will do, goodbye, y/n."

"bye bye."

He hung up the receiver softly before he walked to his boots and slipped them on with his good hand. Once dressed fully, he carefully wrapped the tarp up before crumpling it up and holding it under his pit. A good 30 minutes passed and he heard a car pull up to his room, he peaked out through the peephole before he softly opened the door. He walked out towards her car before he allowed her to open the door for him. He nodded in thanks before sitting in the passenger's seat and tossing the tarp behind him in the back. She got back into the driver's seat before she pulled them out of the motel and onto the road. They were both quiet while they passed the other cars and buildings. Y/n then spoke,

"so. What's your plan?"

He hummed to himself before speaking,

"I think I am going to go to Mexico."

He said gruffly as y/n focused on the road.

"Mexico? I guess that makes sense since its close to your work."

He nodded at what she said before going quiet again. He didn't like talking much, but with y/n, it didn't feel as forced. Y/n quietly stared forward while the radio quietly played some miscellaneous music that none of them were really listening to. Anton stared off out the side window quietly, watching the buildings pass by as they drove to the border. It would be a long journey, but nonetheless, a necessary one. The car bumped and then drove smoothly occasionally before coming to a stop at an intersection. He kept his eyes fixed on the buildings to his side, y/n spoke,

"does it matter where I take you in Mexico?"

"Reynosa. Its close but not too close."

"alright...."

He glanced at y/n before he spoke.

"i appreciate this."

That was the most of a thanks you could get out of Anton, so this made y/n smile in appreciation. She began to drive again as the light turned green and she stayed quiet. Anton sat up straighter than before while they drove. She glanced at Anton a few times to check on him, but he kept the same stoic expression each time, so she focused on the road again. Cop cars passed by and he sucked his head slowly, his hair falling in front of his face as he did. She watched the cop cars pass by before she spoke,

"who gave you that sling?"

He paused his brooding before he replied gruffly

"teenage boy. I paid him a hundred dollars to give me his shirt, so he did."

He then went quiet again, she shook her head before she spoke,

"Do you think the kid told his parents?"

Anton's brow furrowed and he spoke,

"I told him not to, so I hope not."

She chuckled softly, using her finger to cover her mouth softly. Anton shot her an annoyed look and she stopped while chuckling gently,

"Sorry. Sorry...."

He sighed loudly, this was gonna be a long ride.

I'm sorry if it's too short! Part three will be out soon enough 🙏

[disturbanceintexas]

[deadboltdallas]

Anton Chigurh x Reader

Part 1 | "There's No Such Thing as a Mistake"

(Amazing song right there that kinda reminds me of NCFOM / Anton Chigurh, you don't have to listen tho obviously.)

Contains; SFW, personal callouts (I'm putting those in here because maybe you'll discover yourself reading my stuff, I feel as if that's what makes a good story; one where you can see yourself), tension, kinda detailed writing, lowk kinda long, ass ending that may piss you off, might get you on the edge of your seat, etc

It started out in the late afternoon (about 6PM), you were coming home after visiting with one of your friends. You respected your friend, but sometimes your social battery just wasn't good enough to stay with them for as long as you did. Your friend was one of those people who'd blindly accept others, no matter if they get hurt or not. You'd feel bad, but you just didn't have it in you, partially because of your lack of understanding. You never really understood people much, especially for their mindless dependency.

Maybe you spent too much alone, or maybe you're just smarter than most. You thought about this more while walking to your door after they dropped you off. You listened to your shoes pressing against the grass, wondering if maybe you were the hypocrite here. There was almost never a time where you were yourself. You've tried countless times, but it just never mattered. There was always something you'd have to hide behind. You've been just about everything at least once. Responsible, irresponsible, loved, hated, smart, ignorant, diligent, careless. You had one goal in mind set; find yourself. You got closer just about everyday.

You paused with your hand on your doorknob, your brows furrowing slightly as you notice something was off. Your eyes were attached to the fridge in front of you, taking in the environments feel before looking around curiously. Not only was your doorknob messed up, but it was ajar, too. You take a soft breath, analyzing the space ahead of you. The air was still; too still. It was uninviting and harsh. Someone is here. It wasn't your paranoia acting again, though apart of you hoped it was. You, being intelligent in your perspicacious skill, quietly shut the door, your eyes wide and analyzing as you finally stepped inside.

You thought maybe it was a angry family member at first, but it just felt like something was planted there, waiting for you. You didn't leave the house like this. You knew you wouldn't panic, you've put yourself in many situations before. You definitely had the time to, considering your lack of commitment for just about anything.

You looked over at the couch that you so ignored for the first few seconds, and you saw him. A man you don't recognize. His eyes were staring into you. He was sat straight up, his presence dominating, his gaze looked at you expectantly, looking ready to do something, but was clouded behind those heavy eyelids. Your heart was beating out of your chest; not with fear, but excitement-- adrenaline. You were pretty tired from waking up early, but you widened your eyes slightly, staring almost like a deer in headlights. There was no other sound. There was nothing else, just the both of you breathing and the quiet hum of the other dim yellowish light above. It's almost like there was a God to answer your prayers. Something new, something that wouldn't bore you, at least for now...

"Finally, something interesting." you thought to yourself before walking over with caution, making sure to look away when you were about 6 feet away from this guy, looking back up. You wanted to smile, but there wasn't really anything reasonable to smile about, so you just stayed quiet. You got a better look at him there, your eyes almost greedily grazing on his untouched, nearly perfect appearance. He looked, well, perfect. Not just because he was handsome, but because there wasn't a thing messed up about him. Well, maybe his hair, but even that was symmetrical... Mathematical.

Your breath hitched softly while you rudely take in his appearance, staring like a kid in an aquarium for the first time. He lets you look. He doesn't stop you. He expected you to break the silence, and you did.

"H-hey..." you managed to stutter out, a little intimidated by his oddly professional appearance. You weren't used to being blankly assessed like this, especially under such a heavy gaze. Your first assessment on this man was assuming he WAS waiting on you, but he had something wrong; the look on his face made you wonder if he was depressed, or hell, maybe suicidal. You recall being like that at points in your life. "Um, sorry..." you sigh, sitting beside him. His gaze never left you.

When you sat next to him, he took the chance to analyze you. His stoic, watery eyes flickering to your clothes before briefly glaring back up at you.

"Do you know how you got here?"

You jump a little, almost subtly but he picks up on it, his glare slowly shifting to your body before he looks at away, tilting his head to face forward like how he was. He looked oddly dissociative. You clear your throat to compose yourself.

"Yeah?" you insist softly, realizing you may have misread him. That was a rare thing that happened. Now you weren't just excited; you were interested. Your coy act slowly disarming itself and replacing itself with interest. Before you knew it, this man has hooked himself onto you.

He doesn't answer. He breathes in sharply before be turns to face you, his hands neatly on his lap. When he turned to face you, you realized you didn't even ask who he was or why he's there. You thought about asking, but realized he was there for you, and judging by his behavior, he's probably going to kill you, or at least he wants to.

"You gonna kill me?" you ask softly, a small smile slowly forming on your lips. One thing most people mistake about you is how capable of fear you are. You weren't very capable at all. Your life was too eventful to care about anything much, you've already accepted death many times, even if it was an option, you wouldn't get rid of it.

Antons tired eyes shifted over to you, at first, he reads your amusement as mockery, but he doesn't do much about it. He keeps staring at you, this time his eyes don't move. At least for a long while. He blinks once..... Twice. He understood this assignment given, at least you think so.

"You must be eager to trade your life for nothing." he states softly, locking eyes with you. He looks over and away... He's grabbing something from his pocket.

"...Eager is... Nearly an overstatement. I'm not eager, I'm expectant. I don't fear the inevitable. I'm asking you if you're here to do the job." you correct, nearly offended with his confident yet wrong analysis.

His eyes shifted to floor in front of his boots before he faced you, moving like something delicate was in his hand. He didn't move otherwise. He stared at you, tilting his head slightly in acknowledgement after a moment, his eyebrows perking up slightly, feigning surprise; or at least you'd call it that.

"You understand." he mutters, his cold, glassy eyes not moving an inch from your face. His fingers give out the quarter, and he looks back at it. He sighs lowly and leans back, putting his arm on the armrest. He seemed to be thinking about what to do with his situation next.

You loved bringing people off guard. You saw this as a success in your eyes. You weren't worried about dying, you were worried about interesting him. Maybe you could strike up a conversation with him, well, maybe, not just yet, at least. If it's meant to happen, it'll happen.

"Fate brought me here. Just like it brought you here. Whether your time is near or not, isn't up for me to decide." The man states softly, looking back at you for a moment, a soft double chin nearly prominent. You couldn't help but take a liking to this guy. He didn't bother to hide anything, at least in an obvious way. His gaze shifts over to his shiny quarter that he brought to your attention, placing it on his thigh. After, he shifts his gaze to you.

"Call it. The coin will tell us through the choice we do not have. It'll tell what's going to happen." He politely demands, his head not tilting in either direction while his eyes stayed glued to yours, almost like a hovering wasp eyeing its food. What he spoke and his tone were very two ailen things; pretending to give you illusion of choice, but demanding answers like a cranky teacher.

You stare at the quarter for a moment, analyzing it heavily and thinking about what to "choose". You understood this man, alot. More than you'd ever publicly admit.

"Let's do tails." Feeling your feet grow cold under this tension, you shift your position, watching him expectantly with interest. Your shoe tucked under the thigh that wasn't facing him. Mirroring him, you act unperturbed. While you get a little more comfortable, he flips the coin, high. He ends up slapping it on the back of his hand. He covers it, looking at you again. He glances back at his hand that uncovers it. He locks eyes with you, reading you again.

"You were right." He breathes softly, tension being released from him. You understood quickly and also untensed under his gaze. "You don't fear it."

"Even if I did it wouldn't matter." You reply softly, leaning back and man spreading, almost to impress him. Obviously, he doesn't care, he doesn't even look there.

Silence is shared between the two of you for a moment before he puts the coin away, getting up and grabbing some weird looking tank with a red hose, presumably what destroyed your doorknob.

"Wait." You call out, almost a little more desperately than intended. Almost unphased, he looked back at you, his eyebrows twitching upwards and his gaze almost zombie like. Nobody's ever called to him, he didn't know what to think.

"I... Um... I enjoyed your company. I know it was tense and all, but you're appreciated. I know that doesn't matter and all but you should give yourself a break, hitman or not. Your presence is welcomed here." You desperately tried to compliment him, give him any sign that you see him as a human being, but of course, he dismissed it.

"You're only saying this because you think I gave you the choice of mercy." he moves to keep walking, not even looking back again. "Fate doesn't follow the rules of welcome or thanks." He turns the doorknob and makes his way outside, leaving you alone.

You sat there on the couch, oddly disappointed. Years, years you never had such an interesting interaction. You thought about maybe chasing him but... You just weren't sure what to do.

After about an hour or recollection, you get up and go to your room, merely only switching where you thought about him and his words.

A/N: Thinking about makin a part 2 soon, I'm pleased with how this turned out... I might judging on the attention I'll get, I shouldn't promise anything 😥

[friendo]

How do Carson and Anton initiate kissing? Do they not? Is it only under certain circumstances? Love your... headcanons (?) btw... theyre all canon to me.

The first time it happens is when Carson's drunk and he intended to just lean in as a little joke but he lost his balance and leaned into Anton way more than intended and said "fuck it guess I'll die" but surprisingly Anton just. Didn't do anything. He didn't reciprocate but he didn't move away either. Just kinda glared at Carson when he rushed away and out of his chair. He immediately left the bar after that and had a panic attack in his car