#Jax Teller Headcanons

[human-starter-kit]

NSFW Alphabet Jax Teller

(So I've been struggling to write some Jax smut so i thought I'd do this as a little writing exercise. Enjoy!)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jax lays his head against your chest while he catches his breath. After he pulls out he pulls you against his chest. He wants you as close as possible. Your body grounding him. You listen to his heart beating rabidly. He murmurs “ I love you” against your hair. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think Jax is a boobs guy personally. He loves when you wear low cut shirts. Or when you wear those pretty lace bra’s that cost way too much. He takes his time groping at your tits. His mouth follows his hands in slow kisses before taking your nipples into his mouth. He could spend hours worshiping your tits.

 His favorite body part on himself is his hands. He works with them to build engines with ease. He uses them to protect his family either pulling a trigger or landing punches against someone's face. He uses them to pull moans from your mouth. He holds his sons between them watching as they look up with blue eyes that match his own.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Jax LOVES to cum in you. He likes to pull out and watches as his cum spills from you. Using his fingers to push it back into you. Just to make sure it “sticks this time”. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jax is pretty open about his past experiences and the things he wants to try out in bed. But one thing he struggles to say out loud is he wants you to take control. He wants to lay back and not think for a while. He’d even be up to you tying him down while you use his body for your own pleasure. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

We all know Jax “do you know how many women i've slept with” is experienced. He definitely knows what he’s doing. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His favorite position is missionary. He likes to hook your legs around his waist and watch your eyes roll back. He watches as your tits move in time with his thrust. He loves to wrap his hand around your throat. He uses the position to push himself deeper and deeper into you. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think young Jax is more goofy in the moment. He’ll crack a joke at the awkward position you find yourselves in. He wants sex it to be fun and carefree. But S6 & S7 Jax is much more serious; he's trying to bury all the thoughts clouding his mind into your pussy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I actually think Jax is pretty well groomed; he takes pride in his appearance. He doesn't shave completely but he trims when necessary. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

With crow eaters or one night stands Jax isn’t romantic at all. But with long time partners he’s big on intimacy. Taking time to caress your body. Whispering “ I love you” in between thrust. Taking time to brush the hair out of your face to look into your eyes. He kisses your nose before  starting to push into you again. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jax isn't one to jack off often. Usually it happens on runs when he hasn't seen you in a couple days. He looks at the pictures you’ve sent to him as his hands wander underneath his boxers. He doesn't drag it out. He uses masturbating as scratching an itch more so than pleasure.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding. Daddy kink. Threesomes. Light spanking. Shower sex. Dirty talking. Size kink.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers his bed because it gives him a little more room to work. But he’ll take you anywhere the mood strikes. On the kitchen table or counters. On the couch. Pushed up against a wall. In the office of the garage. In the shower after a hard day. In the backseat of the truck pulled off on the side of the road.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally anything. A hand brushing against his chest. A suggestive look across the room. You wearing a low cut shirt or too tight pants. But something I think turns him on more than anything is watching you hold your own. It doesn't matter if it’s you hitting some crow eater for running her mouth or standing up for yourself with Gemma. He loves knowing you can take care of yourself. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sure he may warp his hand around your throat or spank you until your ass is red. But he’d never do anything to seriously hurt you. He sees too much violence in his life everyday he doesn't want it to bleed into the bedroom. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jax is a giver.I swear the man has an oral fixation. He could spend all day between your thighs. He likes when your legs start to shake and your hands tug on his hair as he pulls orgasm after orgasm from you.

That being said, the man also loves a blowjob. One of his favorite ways to relax is sitting on the couch with a joint in his hand and you between his legs. He loves slow and sloppy head. You taking your time to savor his cock. He loves when you slip your hand underneath him and lightly tug on his balls. It’ll make him cum in no time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Most of the time Jax prefers a slow and hard pace. He loves to watch your face as he slowly pulls out of you. Watching you whimper at the loss of him inside you only to slam back into you. He likes to drag it out as long as possible. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Jax prefers to take him time but given his lifestyle and the kids quickies happen often. He pulls you into the laundry room while the boys are distracted with a cartoon. He pushes you against the washer and drags your pants and panties down your legs. The pace is fast and brutal. He put his hand over your mouth to stop the moans from pouring out. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Jax is willing to try anything once. Whether its a position or a toy you’ve bought. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Jax can usually go for two rounds. Mainly because he does drag them out for so long. He makes sure you cum at least twice before he finishes.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don't see him owning any toys. But I think he would be up for using toys on you from time to time. At first he was offended by the thought of using a toy because the “real thing” is so much better. But then he found how much fun it is to tease you with a vibrator against your clit pulling it away before you cum and hearing you whimper. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jax loves to tease you. He could spend hours pulling moans from your throat. He likes to tease you when you’re around other people and can’t do anything about it. He pulls you into his lap while you're at the club house. Sneaking kisses and little touches while you’re talking to the guys.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jax isn't too loud but he does let grunts while he cums. But the man loves to dirty talk. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When they were younger him and Opie would share girls together. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

The man is definitely packing. He is about seven inches and he is girthy. You can barely wrap your hand around him. He curves slightly to the left. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a high sex drive. It’s how he clears his head. How he feels close to you. He uses sex as an escape from the outside world. Uses it to ground himself. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Jax has a hard time falling asleep even after sex. But he doesn't mind. He likes watching as you lay against this chest. Listening to the sound of your breathing lulls him into sleep most nights

[brunettemarionette]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ ― female reader. no description of features. no mentions of size, race or age.

🇲​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ 💜​🇸​​🇴​​🇦​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​

𝗝𝗮𝘅 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Jax spots the guy leaning in too close to you, spouting off some pathetic attempt at a pickup line while tossing in a jab about “wannabe biker boys.” His lips twitch into a deadly smirk as he struts over, confidence oozing with every step.

“Hey, babe,” he says smoothly, wrapping an arm around your waist, his icy blue eyes locking on the clueless idiot. “This clown bothering you?”

When the guy stammers, Jax leans in, his voice dropping low. “Y’know, I’d think twice before badmouthing my club. Especially when I’m the President. But since you didn’t know…” He gives a sharp, humourless laugh. “You’ve got about three seconds to walk away before this gets messy.”

The guy practically trips over himself as he scurries off, and Jax turns back to you, flashing that charming grin. “You alright, darlin’? Let’s get outta here.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Aggressively Supportive & Protective

𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘀 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Chibs doesn’t even bother hiding the cold steel in his gaze as he hears the man flirt with you, his Scottish accent turning sharp as glass when he interrupts.

“Yer sure talkin’ a big game for someone who doesn’t know whose girl he’s chattin’ up,” Chibs drawls, stepping between you and the idiot.

The guy scoffs, mentioning something about “bikers and daddy issues,” and that’s all it takes for Chibs’ deadly smirk to surface. “Aye, that’s cute. Now, I’ve got a wee bit of advice for ye: you leave now, or I’ll give ya somethin’ to cry about.”

The guy falters at the glint in Chibs’ eyes, backing off immediately. Once he’s gone, Chibs tilts his head toward you, his voice softening. “You good, love? Let’s grab a drink.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Snarky Power Couple That Can, And Probably Will, Destroy You

𝗧𝗶𝗴  ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Tig hears the guy’s comment about how “guys in leather are overcompensating” and loses it. He storms over, practically buzzing with energy, his wild eyes daring the guy to say another word.

“Excuse me? You got somethin’ to say about me, buddy?” Tig growls, his tone loud enough to make everyone turn and stare.

The guy freezes, trying to laugh it off, but Tig’s already in his face, pointing at you. “You see her? She’s with me. Me. So if you’re gonna keep running your mouth, you’d better hope you’re faster than I am. Spoiler alert: you’re not.”

The guy stammers out an apology and bolts, leaving Tig to turn back to you with a grin. “See that? Chased him off. No one messes with my girl.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Thinks They're In Charge (Tig) x Is Actually In Charge (You)

𝗢𝗽𝗶𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Opie hears the guy call SAMCRO a “bunch of thugs�� while shamelessly flirting with you. He clenches his fists, his jaw ticking as he approaches. He towers over the guy, his deep voice calm but dangerous.

“Got a problem with my club?” Opie asks, his sheer size and quiet intensity enough to make the guy gulp.

When the man stutters, Opie steps closer, his eyes like granite. “And you think hitting on my girl is a good idea? You’re either real stupid or looking for trouble.”

The guy quickly backpedals, muttering apologies as he slinks away. Opie watches him go, then turns to you with a small smile. “You alright? Let’s head out before I change my mind about letting him walk away.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Home Is Wherever You Are

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Happy doesn’t need to say much. The second he hears the guy say something about “bikers being all talk,” he strides over silently, his expression as unreadable as ever.

He steps between you and the guy, looking him up and down with cold, assessing eyes. “You like your teeth where they are?” Happy asks, his voice low and gravelly.

The guy blinks, confused, but the pure menace radiating off Happy is enough to make him reconsider whatever dumb thing he was about to say. “N-no problem, man. I was just leaving.”

Happy watches him go, then turns to you with a rare smirk. “You good? Let’s go.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Unaware in public (you) x Overprotective in public (Happy)

𝗝𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Juice hears the guy call SAMCRO a “bunch of wannabes” while trying to charm you, and he immediately stiffens. He’s not the most intimidating at first glance, but the second he speaks, his tone is sharp.

“You might wanna rethink what you’re saying,” Juice says, stepping up beside you, his eyes narrowing. “That ‘wannabe’ club? That’s my family.”

The guy laughs nervously, trying to brush it off, but Juice isn’t backing down. “And her?” He points at you. “She’s my girl. So why don’t you take your crappy lines somewhere else before I make you regret opening your mouth?”

The guy stumbles over an apology before fleeing, and Juice exhales, turning back to you. “You okay? Let’s get out of here before I really lose it.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

You Fell First, But He Fell Harder

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲 𝗦𝗼𝗻𝗴

Bad Company by Five Finger Death Punch

[secretlysamcro]

what’re some of your favorite jax headcanons??

❣ Jax Teller, Pizza & a screen.

It's rare, but Jax loves a night where he has nothing to do. Pizza, you & Netflix, it’s all he fucking needs. He LOVES a horror film too. Not any of those new, everything's a joke horror films, I'm talking old school horror. The exorcist, Poltergeist, Childs play, and that's just to list a few of his favourites. When his boys are around though...That horror shit goes straight out the window. No blood, no demons. Just whatever cartoons they're obsessed with that week blaring through the speakers. And he's right there on the couch with them, laughing along like it's the funniest shit he's ever seen. Tossing popcorn into his mouth, ruffling their hair, doing silly voices, making sure everything is okay.

And when the house is quiet again...When the boys are passed out, tucked in tight and safe in their beds, that's when the mood changes. The glances lasting a little longer. The touches becoming more desperate. Hands brushing hips for no reason, lips against your neck just because. The Netflix screen goes still, flashing that "Are you still watching?" message. And no. You're not. Because Jax is face down deep between your thighs, arms locked around your legs, and the only thing he's watching is your pretty pussy.

❣ Jax Teller & the views of Charming.

Jax loves being on the road. Whether its on his Dyna or in the SUV. He lives for the freedom, the movement, the quite in his head that only a long stretch of road can provide. But one thing a lot of people don't know about him? He loves a night time drive.

I'm talking middle of the night, spontaneous as fuck "Gemma's got the boys...come on darlin" whispered to you as he gently shakes your leg, convincing you to throw on your Uggs and climb into the car with him, still in your pyjamas, messy hair and no makeup.

He'll drive like he has all the time in the world. Windows cracked, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh. No music sometimes, but if there is, it will probably be something like 'Psycho Killer by Talking heads', playing low in the background. He takes you to his favorite hidden spots in town, the ones with the best views. Places where the streetlights below look like tiny specks of glitter, scattered across the darkness. And those nights where he's feeling reckless? You'll know it before he even says a word. Just the way he grips the wheel a little tighter, his jaw clenched and that familiar heat in his eyes when he looks your way. Parked somewhere quiet, tucked away from the rest of the world, he'll lean over to you and murmur "Come on sweetheart...gimme a lil head" like its nothing, like he's starving.

And those nights he's really worked up, forget the front seat, he's pulling you into the back, or bending you over the hood, whatever he can get away with. Doesn't care where, doesn't care how. As long as he's having you. As long as he's fucking you hard enough that those little town lights outside start to blur and distort. The glittering little flecks stretching into long trembling light streaks.

❣ Jax Teller & the man flu.

Jax Teller, the man who has and will kill in cold blood. The one who would do ANYTHING to protect his family and his brothers. The same man who treats actual gunfights like a chess match. Catch him with a cold? Yeah...absolute fucking baby. Jax with a cold is fucking insufferable, but in the most adorable way.

One blocked nostril and suddenly he's acting like he's been shot in the chest, And he does that disgusting thing too. That horrible fucking noise he makes when he's trying to itch his throat from the inside.

And when he's feeling like this...he doesn't want to be left alone. He'll follow you from room to room, slumping dramatically on the bed, the floor, the coach. Anywhere like he's clinging to life, complimented with a soppy "Stop leavin' me darlin' I cant breathe".

He's fucking needy when he's sick. Like 'Touch starved' is his actual diagnosis. Clingy and constantly reaching for you, He falls asleep with his head on your chest, your hand in his hair or your leg slung over his like your shielding him from death itself, and god forbid you move, he'll groan like you just unplugged his fucking life support.

And still, he'll fucking try it. "Jax! no! I don't wanna catch anything!" you'll swat him away playfully as he pouts like a child, dramatic as fuck muttering something along the lines of "Really y/n? I'm on my deathbed and I can't even get a lil somethin'?"

❣ Jax Teller & your spicy book reaction.

Jax knows you love to read. You've always got your head in a book, eyes glued to your kindle, whatever your preferred method. You're always reading. He doesn't usually ask what it's about, not because he doesn't care, but because its your thing. Your time. It's how you unwind and how you switch off from the chaos. So when he sees you curled up, completely engrossed, thighs clenched and lips parted just slightly, he doesn't ever question it. He just lets you be.

Until the night you leave your book out. Right there in the open, no locked screen, not faced down. Just porn on paper, glowing under the kitchen light. Something about throbbing cocks and soaked panties. He picks it up, eyes scanning the pages with a slow devilish grin spreading across his face as he reads your filthy little secret like its the best thing he's seen.

When you walk back in and see him holding it, he doesn't even hide it, doesn't move an inch.

"This why you're always so quiet when you read? you readin' porn babe?" he whines, clearly enjoying himself way too much.

And from that moment on, he teases you relentlessly. Whispering lines from the book in your ear when you least expect it. Mocking the over the top language in that smug, cocky tone of his. Pulling you into his lap like "So what did your lil lover boy do next? Bet he didn't do this..." right before he slides his hand between your thighs.

But deep down? he loves the fact that you read shit like that. He's not jealous, not threatened. If anything, he sees it as a challenge. Because now Jax Teller wants to compete with your lil book boyfriend.

[pileofboneswrites]

TAILSPIN.

SUMMARY — after receiving an unintelligible call from jax, you rush back to charming to discover your son, abel, has been kidnapped by camerson hayes, and worst yet, he also killed your younger brother that you practically raised.

PAIRING — exhusband!jax teller x fem!halfsack'ssister!reader | juice ortiz x reader

WORD COUNT — 3.8k

WARNINGS — established relationship(s), kidnapping, murder, death, past child neglect (about reader and her brother), divorce, premature birth, pregnancy complications, agent stahl, swearing, fighting, angst, loss of loved ones, suicidal thoughts, contemplation of suicide, cheating, allusion to smut but no description, no use of y/n (she's actually only outwardsly referenced 2 times and is referred to as miss epps or epps).

AUTHORS NOTES — just to clear somethings up; jax married reader instead of wendy, and instead of drugs being the reason abel was born early it was just due to pregnancy complications.

MASTERLIST | SONS OF ANARCHY

your heart was slamming rapidly into your ribcage, panic rolling off your skin in waves. you push the pedal to the floor, the idea of a speeding ticket not even remotely close to crossing your mind. this was your fault, it was. leaving charming, even for a few hours always felt like it had consequences. something bad always seemed to happen the moment you crossed the county line. your tires squeal as you peel into the teller-morrow parking lot, slamming your car in park as you jump out, only barely remembering to take off your seatbelt as you go. clay, piney, and opie are standing by the entrance to the clubhouse, sad expressions creasing their features.

"what happened?!" you ask, your voice loud, panicked and harsh.

the surprise on their faces from your tone has silence ringing in your ears. you'd known them for years, opie, jax and you being quite the troublesome trio through most of your youth. they'd never heard you raise your voice before, let alone the venom behind your words.

"someone answer me!" you shout, your entire body vibrates from the panic working its way down to your stomach.

you're going to puke if someone doesn't tell you what the hell is going on, and soon. you'd received a rather frantic voicemail from jax last night and hadn't been able to reach him since, which is what made you turn your car around and head for the clubhouse. his voice was shakey, and you couldn't hear a damn thing that made sense. but you know jax, and jax doesn't panic. he's dealt with and seen it all through the years, he's not easy to shake. so hearing your husband–well soon-to-be ex-husband–in that state had your mind reeling.

"kiddo, you need to take a deep breath." clay starts, attempting to sling an arm around your shoulders.

you shrug him off, "no! you need to tell me what the hell is going on, and why jax called me in a panic, and where the hell he is!"

it comes out as one rushed sentence, barely comprehensible but opie steps towards you. he rests a large hand on your shoulder, a distraught look on his face.

"we need you to take a breath, seriously, epps. i'll tell exactly what's happening, but you've barely taken a breath since walking over here, and you look like you're going to passout."

you nod, sucking in some extremely needed air. you take a second to just regulate yourself, and in that time, opie steers you over to one of the picnic tables. you sit down, back to the table and once you've calmed a little, you cross your arms and look up at him expectantly.

"alright, now, tell me."

he glances back at clay, and at his dad, before looking back to you. they turn and walk into the clubhouse, giving you two some privacy.

"cameron hayes killed your brother because he thinks gemma killed edmund,"

"w-what?" you ask, bottom lip wobbling, your head is spinning

your baby brother is... dead? eddie is dead? cameron hayes killed your brother? you shake your head, wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your flannel. you'd practically raised eddie. your mom was a drunk, and your dad had left long before you could form any memories of him. so, from ten on, you were big sister, mommy and daddy all rolled into one. you taught him manners, how to use the toilet, how to cook, how to flirt with girls, and so many more things. you'd been there for every step of his life, cheering loud enough to drown out the naysayers.

when he left for the military you were terrified that you'd get that call every parent dreds. sure, you weren't really his mom, you couldn't be with the five year age gap, but in all the areas that mattered, you were. eddie was your first kid in a twisted sense, and knowing that he'd made it all the way home from iraq, only to die at the hands of someone affiliated with the club that he loved so much shattered your heart.

"n-no, that's not possible, i-i just sp-spoke to eddie, we-we just spoke this morning. h-he said he and-and-and-and," you're spiraling, mind and heart racing faster, and faster before your expression drops, and your mind clears. "abel. he was taking tara back to jax's to get some of abel's things. where is my baby? where's abel, harry? where is my baby?"

you're sobbing uncontrollably, your entire body shaking as you slide off the seat of the picnic table, onto the concrete. opie pulls you into his chest, and you sob into his shirt. it's another first for all of them, watching you breakdown, watching you cry.

"we're going to find abel," opie says into your ear, trying to calm you down, it doesn't help, you just cry harder.

it shouldn't have happened in the first place! the club was on lockdown. losing eddie is hard enough, but losing your son in the same span of minutes is devastating. it takes you twenty minutes, but when you finally pull yourself together again you pat opie's arm, and stand up.

"where is jax?" you ask quietly, taking a deep breath.

"he's at home, we're heading over there now, let juice drive you, you shouldn't be driving right now." opie says, and you nod.

normally you'd fight him, which he's well aware of, but knowing your son is god knows where has you in an anxious tailspin. you don't have the energy to fight with anyone right now. opie walks you over to your car, tucking you into the passenger seat and waiting by the door for the other's to come out of the clubhouse.

"what happened exactly?" your voice is barely a whisper, and opie looks worried.

"are you sure you want the run down right now?" he questions, and you immediately nod, your eyes on the hood of your car.

"please, ope," its the most desperate, pathetic sound to ever cross your lips, but you have to know.

he takes a deep breath, "what tara says happened, is that gemma took off while they were out, so she sent your brother to watch over her, and she went to jax's house. stahl freaked, shot edmund hayes, gemma shot polly, and stahl pinned the blame on her. half– eddie took off to find tara, and cameron must have followed him from their safe house. cameron was going to kill abel, but your brother stepped in, and got stabbed in the process. he tied her up in the nursery, and left with abel."

"the same man who killed my brother, has my son?" you ask, and he nods. "and tara just let him take my son?"

"well, i wouldn't say that—"

"everyone's ready," juice says, stepping up to the driver's side window, pulling the door open.

"hang tight," opie says, patting your knee before closing the door, and walking over to his bike.

"hey baby," juice says softly, "i'm sorry."

you nod, but don't say anything. you pull your seatbelt on, and lean back. you and juice had been together for a couple of months, with jax's blessing of course. he'd been great, amazing even. part of you would always love jax in a way that juice would understand, and he was okay with that. knowing you would be crawling into bed with him every night was good enough to ease any worries he might have had. juice had been rock solid in your life, a shoulder you privately cried on when jax had initially asked for the divorce.

you saw it coming from a mile away, while you'd loved each other greatly, it just wasn't the same kind. you knew that in the beginning, the middle and especially at the end. you also knew that if you didn't agree, or you tried to convince him to stay, that you'd lose him for real. he'd grow to resent you, and you'd grown to hate him for resenting you. you couldn't live in a world where jax wasn't at least a part of your life in some capacity. so that meant an amicable split, and seeing him when you dropped off abel. despite what most people think about your relationship, things haven't changed.

jax is still one of your best friends, and when you're not working, you're usually at his house. your relationship label may have changed, but your relationship hadn't. opie had been the most worried when you'd told him you were getting divorced. his two best friends splitting? nightmare. but when you told him there were no hard feelings, well, he actually didn't believe you at first. it took seeing you both in action to actually understand that you were serious. then, you found out you were pregnant.

it didn't change anything, you were still getting divorced, but jax was actually really excited. he'd told you about all his worries about becoming a father, and you reassured him that he'd be great. in turn he did the same for you. he joined you at every appointment, and played a very active role in your pregnancy. he helped you find an apartment close to his house, and spent a lot of time by your side helping you with nursery set up, moving, and everything in between.

gemma was probably the most heartbroken over your split. she loved you just as much as (and sometimes more than) jax. she helped you a lot over the years, especially when she found out about her grandbaby. gemma made the transition from wife, to ex and baby momma so much easier. she was a cheerleader for you, and always in your corner. you were incredibly lucky to have them, and be in the situation you were in. tara on the other hand... she was the opposite. gemma clocked it the moment you went into labour prematurely.

you'd been stressed over work, being the only manager on an already understaffed team was difficult but so was being pregnant. you'd never planned on getting pregnant, so there were a lot of things at work you decided were to be dealt with later. the moment you found out, you were trying your damnedest to get things ready. the stress got to you, and manifested itself in making your pregnancy high risk, and then landing you in the hospital way earlier than you should have been. it was obvious to you the moment jax came to see you after abel was born that tara thought it was your fault.

later it became clear to you that she just didn't like you, something you didn't notice in your teen years. you'd never really spent any time with her then, but the more time you spent with her after your son's birth, because lets face it anytime you went to visit jax she was there. all smiles, and cooing at your son until jax left the room, and then a scowl and general disinterest in you reared its ugly head. now things were different. she let a terrorist kill your baby brother, and kidnapp your son. karma was about to take her ass for a ride, and you were going to be driving.

"hey," juice says, his warm hand finding yours over the center console, snapping you from your thoughts. "we're here,"

you turn your head, and see clay speaking to tara in the doorway. your vision goes dark. you don't even remember getting out of the car, let alone walking over to tara and grabbing a handful of her hair. you're yelling is incomprehensible, but it's obvious to onlookers that you're sobbing as you beat the shit out of her. you come to again with juice's arms around you, pulling you into the house, and opie pulling tara inside into a different room. your only injury is three claw marks across your cheek, but tara is quite a bit worse for ware.

"what the hell were you thinking?!" jax snaps at you, upon pulling you away from juice, and into abel's nursery.

"i was thinking about how that bitch let some guy take my fucking baby and kill my baby brother!" you scream at him, breaking down all over again. "my baby..."

his expression softens, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. you sob into his shoulder, loud, heartbreaking, borderline violent wails.

"i'm sorry about your brother, i really am, but you can't blame tara."

you pull back, weaseling away from his grip, "can't i?"

"it could have happened to anyone, it could have happened to you."

"i would have died, jackson, and i think you better than anyone knows that. i would have died for abel. for eddie. i would not have let that man get away with everything i love." you say, sobering, violent, hot anger courses through you. "i would have died or killed him. i wouldn't have let him walk out the door."

he just stares at you. his once bright blue eyes dark, like the light behind them died. you know he knows exactly how you feel. that he blames tara to some degree. but you don't really care. you're numb. your heart aching in a way you've never felt before. in a way you'd never wish upon your worst enemy. tara included, despite what she did. the worst part is you don't have the one person you want to talk to about it. eddie died protecting her, and his nephew. what did tara do? she let herself get tied up, let cameron take your baby, let cameron kill your brother. tara lost nothing, and once again, you've lost everything.

"i want to kill her jax," you say finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, his sad eyes just staring back at you. "that's not rational, not right. but i've just lost the two single most important people in my life, and i want to kill her for it."

"i understand what you're saying, why you're saying it," he says slowly, "but you're right, it's not rational."

"when abel comes home, she's not allowed to be around him by herself. i don't care what that means. i don't feel comfortable with her being alone with our son." you tell him, fingers grasping the cool leather of his kutte to pull him in closer. "i don't want to see, hear or think about her until then, and you bet your ass, i'm coming with you to bring him home, whatever, and wherever that takes us."

jax briefly looks scared of you, but he collects himself just as quickly as you let him go, and brush past him back out the way you came.

"you're lucky you're not dead," you seeth, flipping tara off with both hands as you walk back out to your car.

worried about your well-being and your mental state, jax sends juice home with you when you leave. the drive to your apartment, albeit quick, is silent. how does one comfort someone who lost both their only child, and only brother in a matter of minutes? besides, juice knows you well enough to know that you'll talk when you're ready. if you're ever ready. and right now? you don't know if you'll ever be. the fear of unraveling that far scares you. so for now, you think positively, and you keep moving forward.

it takes four hours, before agent stahl is in your living room, sitting on your couch. juice stands in the kitchen, watching the exchange from the sink, where he's washing your lunch dishes.

"so, mrs teller, where were you yesterday afternoon?" she asks, and you immediately understand why the club hates the woman so much.

"the divorce might not be finalized yet, but it's miss epps, and i was half-way to seattle."

"ah, yes, i forgot about that... why were you heading to seattle?"

"i don't really see how that's going to get my son back, seeing as you know who took him already."

"we need to get a picture together of everyone's movements."

"i got a phone call a few days ago, my mother's in the hospital there. she wanted to see me, so i was going."

"as i understand it, you aren't close with your mother?"

"no. look, agent stahl, this isn't helping. get your ass out there and look for my son. you're the reason my brother died, i'm not interested in you being the reason my son dies too. do your fucking job." you abruptly stand up, and walk into the kitchen.

you want to throw something. you want to scream. you want to be violent and aggressive. you miss your brother. you miss your baby. you want them back. most of all, you want this nightmare to be over.

when jax tells you they're heading to ireland, you pack light, but take abel's favourite stuffed animal, a white bear with a blue hat, mitts, scarf and booties. you carry the bear with you, hugging it tightly when you worry you're about to fall apart. jax's reassuring hand on your knee, and juice's hand in yours keeps your grounded. you lose yourself a little every time you think you're going to see abel, and then are denied at the last moment.

when father ashby finally drops the bomb on you and jax; that he'd been adopted, sold to another family, you break down. father ashby tries to comfort you, but nothing he says changes anything.

"i don't care about your fucking god, i don't. i don't care about your promise to john teller. i want my fucking baby back. your cousin has caused me enough pain; by killing my fucking brother. don't make the mistake of keeping my son from me." you scream, uncaring who hears you. "i'm sure you know the saying desperate people, do desperate things. desperate doesn't even begin to cover what i am, and what i'm willing to do to get abel in my arms, and back home."

you lay in bed all day, the blanket pulled up over your head, your eyes squeezed closed, the bear tucked under your arm. you've felt sick from the moment you'd heard that abel might be gone. whisked away by some—in their defence, probably oblivious, but lovely—couple, about to be taken god knows where. the very notion, that you could go home empty handed hurts, burns, stabs at your heart. you feel like someone's cut you open, and taken a knife to your chest. poking and proding at all the parts you should never poke and prod at.

you've never felt worse in your life; physically, mentally, and emotionally. you're drained, exhausted, and contemplating ending your life. you've never felt so low. you're almost embarrassed as the idea crosses your mind, but the longer you stew, the longer it seems like a really appealing idea. incredibly selfish, but desperation is like that. you weren't sure how jax was downstairs, enjoying the night, the party, the people... how he wasn't suffocating, like you were. everthing is falling apart, collapsing around you, and he's acting like everything's a-ok.

you don't hear the bedroom door open, but you startle when you feel the bed dip behind you. fight mode activates, and you leap from the bed, eyes scanning for a weapon. then you see jax's face in the reflection of the window, your heart rate slows.

"you asshole, make some noise when you move around. i thought i was about to get murdered..." you close your eyes, hands dropping to your sides. "why are you here?"

"i'm so sorry," his voice is barely a whisper, you vaguely make out the trembling of his bottom lip, and the tears streaming down his face. "this never– never should have happened."

your expression softens, and you sink back down on the small bed. you pull jax in, his head resting on your shoulder as you hold him. you'd only ever seen him cry a few times, but that was usually how you could tell he was past his breaking point. jax always perseveres, pushing forward. you're the slightly unstable, completely unhinged one. he's the calm, rational thinker.

"i don't blame you." you tell him, "i don't even blame tara, anymore. i blame stahl. it's her fault all this shit happened. had she not shot edmund, none of this would have happened."

he nods against your shoulder, then lifts his head. the kiss is unexpected, but not unwelcome or unwanted. the sex is fantastic, it always is with jax, but it just further complicates an already complicated situation. it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened come morning when juice pops his head into the room to see how you're doing. he's hurt, but he understands to an extent. he loves abel. he loves you and by extension abel is part of you, so what's not to love? under normal circumstances, he knows this would not be an issue, but nothing about what's happening is normal.

he knows you're grieving, he knows as abel's father, jax can relate to your struggles more than anyone. what he doesn't understand, is why, even while in the midst of a divorce, the pair of you would do something like that. how despite this, he shoves his concerns aside, and closes the door, banging heavily on it to wake the pair of you. he doesn't avoid your eye, or not take your hand when you reach for his, or walk out of every room you walk into. he instead, keeps his mouth shut, and supports you. the guilt gnaws at you, and you spend the majority of the day avoiding jax, and he you (and juice).

after your night with jax, you brush your hair, actually get dressed, and spend the afternoon playing cards with juice, opie and happy, and try really hard to feel normal. it works for a few hours, until you find out that your son has been taken, again from his new adopted parents, and that they were brutally murdered in their hotel room. discovering jimmy was behind it surprises no one, but sets you into yet another tailspin. terrified of what could happen to him, terrified that jimmy would kill him if he got too annoying.

luckily, your fears never play out, because father ashby trades himself for abel. when jax walks back through the doors of the apartment you'd all been staying in, with abel in his arms you can't help the happy tears. shaky, holding your breath, hand over your mouth, you stare at your unharmed baby in jax's arms. seeing abel for the first time in what feels like an eternity is like a cold water shock to your system. when jax hands him over to you, letting you finally hold your son after weeks without him.

he smiles up at you, cooing softly, and reaching for your hair. it's like every bad, anxiety moment slips away. it doesn't matter that he was gone, all that matter's is that he's home, in your arms, surrounded by all the people who fought to bring him home, his family.

[bellaxgiornata]

random jax thought that i must unleash:

a marilyn monroe ‘Happy Birthday Mr.President’ moment with jax?? i feel like that man would lose his mind tbh

Ohhh! Please unleash any and all Jax thoughts you have! And okay, I read this ask from you the other night and I've been thinking about it nonstop because it gave me another thought, so let me add another little layer onto this with a little headcanon of mine--singing happy birthday to Jax in lingerie.

HEAR ME OUT. I have a strangely strong belief that Jax has little experience being able to appreciate actual lingerie, not just a sexy bra and panties set. Think about it--the man never really did relationships after Tara left just after high school besides marrying Wendy. And Wendy probably spent her money on drugs and alcohol instead of legitimate lingerie because why the hell would she? I'm guessing most hangarounds at the clubhouse weren't dressed in lingerie beneath their clothes because it just doesn't seem logical (and that shit is expensive). Now, maybe some of the pornstars from Caracara could've had some sort of costume or something he'd enjoyed, but considering how we've seen them in 'the morning after' scenes in the show, I'm guessing they wouldn't really be wearing any lingerie, either. Most of Jax's sex is just spur of the moment, which just doesn't go hand in hand with dressing for it, you know?

So I'm throwing some headcanon thots on this out below the cut (clearly 18+ like everything on my blog). It's also an idea I want to explore in far more detail in my Jax fic All That I Can Give with my ex-prostitute!Reader who works at Diosa. Because I just want Jax to have some fun with lingerie, alright? I genuinely believe he hasn't had the pleasure of something so simple.

Jax is not the kind of guy who would make a big deal out of his birthday. In fact, he probably forgets it every year. And the guys at the clubhouse probably do, too. It comes and goes like every other damn day to him and he doesn't even think twice about it.

Except you do. Because you wouldn't forget his birthday. You've been planning an evening at home with him when he's finally done dealing with club business for over a week now. And maybe it's not some massive birthday party that you're throwing for him, and you don't have any expensive gift to give him, but you do have something you're wanting to do--surprise him with lingerie.

You're already dressed in it waiting in the bedroom when he comes home, a nervous excitement flooding you the moment you hear him cut the engine on his bike before you hear the front door open a minute later. And then you hear Jax's usual "Where you at, baby?" greeting you from down the hall before you call out from the bedroom.

The moment Jax sees you sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed in the sexy number you have on with a cake in your lap, his entire demeanor shifts. The tension and exhaustion from his day just disappears from his body instantly and a devilish grin spreads across his mouth instead. His eyes slowly and openly rake over you in clear approval because "Goddamn, baby, where did this little thing come from?"

And when you tell him you bought it just for his birthday, making him sit down on the bed as you set the cake aside on the dresser--where, let's be real, it's going to be forgotten for quite awhile--Jax is practically salivating as his hands keep pawing at you. He's grabbing at your ass and your thighs, your breasts and your back. His eyes don't even know where the hell to focus, just continually roaming all over you as he thinks about how he wants to have you first in that damn thing.

But when you start singing happy birthday to him, sitting down in his lap on the bed, neither of you give a shit whether you can actually sing well or not. Jax is already half-hard, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he waits for you to finish--but he can't even manage that. You don't even get all the way through singing before he's spinning you on his lap to straddle him, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of you like it's the first time all over again.

You can damn well guarantee you won't be leaving the bedroom for the rest of the night. Jax is going to have you over and over in every goddamn position he can fold you into just so he can appreciate every angle of your body in that lingerie set. "Fuck, baby, you're not taking this off tonight. I'm gonna fucking ruin you in it."

[persephone411]

Jax Teller + crop tops

@wetpussyju1ce you just unlocked something in me

Hear me out: as far as I know crop tops on men were a thing in the 80s and 90s. Guess who was a teenager during the 90? Yes, Jax Teller (he was born 1978) so the chances that Jax rocked a crop top during high school are not slim. He probably bought it either “on accident” (he fully knew that he was doing ) or he just ripped the hem from one of his shirts, maybe even a Samcro shirt. Opie probably mocked him, but the girls in his high school were obsessed. One time he had a lipstick mark on his hip bone

[my-bulletz]

✶ JAX TELLER in love with a guy.

──────────────────────────────

pairing: jax teller + male reader.

warnings: vague internalized homophobia, canon typical violence, vague canon typical homophobia, vague weed talk.

jax didn't think he'd be the type of guy to — like other guys. it’s not like girls didn’t cut it for him before, that was all well and dandy, but he lately found himself staring at the way the leather from your cut shaped around your shoulders a little too long, or how the veins in your arms would pop when you drew your gun. fuck.

and at first, everything was pretty easy to ignore, even if he stared too much and went out of his way to keep his distance — he could pretend it was nothing, jax had a knack for keeping his hands busy on useless flings, and now they proved a better escape. it was a particularly vivid dream and a few stoned deliriums when he hung around the weed shop with juice that told him this wasn’t going away anytime now.

he then thought of everything that was potentially wrong about it. when he didn't have his hands on a trigger, his bike's handle, or some chick's hips — he was overthinking. starting with the fact that no one had to know; and if they did, the club would have to make an exception for him, to any and all rules he would be breaking along the way. jax didn't keep tabs on every archaic rule of the original motor clubs, but he figured having an old man as an old man would be a pretty big hole to patch over.

chibs was the first to know. jax couldn't bring himself to tell opie about it — he didn't know how to feel about it himself, he didn't want to see opie not knowing too. and chibs noticed everything, down to how jax's jaw would tense at any and all comment that he would have found funny before, how he'd leave the bar too quickly, and not hang around the crow-eaters as much as he used to, almost as if he, out of all people, couldn't keep his hands fixed to known, soft curves. not when he closed his eyes and all he saw was sharp edges and rough knuckles.

the talk the two had about it had been awkward and oddly comforting, filled with curses. their backs to the wall and a cig between their fingers. it went something like: “so, the new patch.” “... yeah.” and after a moment of silence and a tightly stiff hug, chibs breathed out, “yer’ an idiot, jackie boy.”

when it blew up for the both of you, it happened in between dirt and beer, blinded by street lights. it had been a stupid brawl; a show to put on during a party of the mc, that grew too personal — especially when his breath hitched when you took off your shirt to go up against him in the makeshift rink. and maybe, he didn't know how to deal with being irrevocably smitten with someone so eager to punch his teeth out.

frustration and confusion about his feelings quickly soured into panting anger and balled up fists. he also remembers flashes of flushes and heat waves striking his skin where pavement sanded his back, it felt kind to be punched, as long as it was you.

not that he'd ever admit that.

even when he found you later in the bathroom, bleeding by his doing and running water over your knuckles, the wraps hanging off the sink, he came to you like a storm, frowning and seething, kissing the blood off your lips, hard enough he might've broke something else, he pulled away just as so, daring you. everything a challenge with jax.

that too faded away; into yearning and sickeningly sticky grudges that tasted too much like honey, you two didn' talk about the pushing towards greedy encounters in grimy bathrooms, not for a long while. his bike to yours even when he missed having you in his hands, he knew that if it was known and went south, both of you'd get shunned and blacked out, and even if the club looked past it, the other charters just wouldn't have it. so bathrooms it was.

he'd call you his boyfriend — not only in the dark — smell a whiff of gunpowder and call that home, if he could.

he wants to, just not now. and it hurts, and the knife twists, because they don't teach you what to do when everyone looks out for their old ladies, but you have to watch bullets grazing the man you love everyday, having to shoot too.

only when you strapped a bulletproof vest alongside your chest, cocked your gun and prepped yourself for a meeting made to go awry, only then he felt the very palpable fear of losing someone he didn't have the chance to claim as his.

everyone's family locked tight and safe in the clubhouse. before anyone took off on their bikes, jax kissed you briefly, it felt like a shot in on itself, his hands on each side of your face, holding you like water. “see you later.” his voice a lot like an order, even when his thumb ran alongside your jaw — not even trying to be soft, he didn't know how with you. before you had a chance to react and do something other than lick your lips, jax was already hopping on his bike before anyone else could, racing off, with all of the member's eyes on him, and you.

well, that would be a conversation to be had when they all came back.

[swiss-mrs]

I'm gonna cry this is so beautiful omfg

hi my sweet baby suse :') love you sm n'just wanna know your thoughts when it comes to sitting on jax's lap <3 would he pet your hair? call you sweet little pet names? just wonderin' <3

anything for you clo, my pretty girl ! 🫶🏻

this became super long-winded, i just think he's neat :')

cw: jealousy, slight! innocence kink, potential 'opie yearning for reader' moment (who's shocked?) slightly nsfw

personally, i think jax is constantly pulling his girl into his lap. whether it's because tig is getting a little too friendly, or you've been talking (gazing) at opie for a tiny bit longer than he'd like, it's like you make a movement & you're in his lap. he's very "hey, where you goin' sweetheart, hm?" all teasing and smug and smiley, pulling you by the wrist to sit on him.

while jax loves having you in his lap to see you get all blushy and shy "c'mon darlin' they all know you love sittin' on me" (never letting the opportunity for innuendo pass him by,) he also loves the sense of pride that he gets from having a pretty, sweet thing like you perched in his lap. while jax is all leather and dirty t-shirts and baggy jeans, you're sweet pastels and soft fabrics— the warmth that jax is slowly starting to feel in his heart again.

and he'll take any form of lap sitting, by the way. if you're sitting directly on him, after you deliver some comment about jax bein the "comfiest, cleanest chair here!" he'll laugh, and wrap his big arms around your tummy, his face in your hair, whispering dirty jokes and funny comments about juice and chibs in your ear.

and if you're sitting sideways? legs spread across his lap and dangling over his thighs? his hands never leave them. one hand protectively holds your ankle, fingers lightly fiddling with the cold "J" anklet he bought just for you. his other hand slides up and down your leg, pausing to lay his palm flat on your knee, or to slide his extended hand up the sides of your thigh. and jax knows nooo personal space with you, by the way. so you two are face to face as he talks, his strong nose brushing against yours, and when he leans over to tell you a secret, his beard brushes against your cheek. eventually, his hand starts to slide up the center of your thighs, and his lips get a little too close to the sweetest spot on your neck, and he notices opie looking at the smooth skin of your face too long, and suddenly he can't help himself. nights like those usually end with you happily skipping behind jax as he leads you to his clubhouse room, trying to supress a smile at your obvious affection and excitement for him.

that being said, jax is a veerrrryy jealous person, so whenever he senses a prospect gettin' a little too close for his liking, he'll give you the look and you'll know where to go. of course, jax never tells you exactly why he'll suddenly stop your conversation with happy and ask you to come (essentially) straddle him in the clubhouse— he never wants you to know the true, horribly corrupt fantasies of the other male bikers.

so he'll take you in his lap, hooking your arms over his shoulders and pulling you together; chest to chest, him pressing against your panties in a comforting way. jax will pull the hem of your dress down and hold it still (he saw them trying to take a peek, and if he's being honest it took everything in him not to flip the pool table and start screaming) and start the sweetest little whispers in your bejeweled ear "my sweet girl, you know how pretty you are, hm? you know everybody here wants you? but they can't have you right? can they?"

and like clockwork, this same song and dance you get into everytime there's a meeting, you nod happily. and jax'll smile, a nice, wide, shit-eating grin aimed just as much at you as it is at the other samcro members looking onward; always yearning for a girl like you— loving, loyal, only having eyes for the blondie they all yearn to be.

his hand will move to your hair, softly running his fingers through it, soft applogies leaving his lips as your hair gets tangled in his rings, and he'll always kiss the corners of your lips to make up for it. he'll press your head to his chest, a big, protective hand sprawling across the back of your hair, holdin' you to him "just rest your eyes a little darlin', i gotta talk to the guys abit, kay?"

oh and he will. his hands running up and down your back and hair, in lulls of the conversation he'll kiss your cheek and ask quietly "still with me, babe?" and wait for your comfortable purr of "mmhmm" and continue on with the conversation. and he knows no one will ever say anything, they wouldn't dare. you're his little "doe in the headlights" and beyond jax's admittance, he needs to feel you in his hands just to get through the fear that he battles with everyday— the fear of disappointing the club, trampling his father's legacy, losing you. the thought makes him tighten his grip on you, hugging you like a child hugs their teddy bear, and the pressure, the sheer weight of his love is so fulfilling, you'll happily flirt with juice if it means it'll always end with jax holding you like this.

[ravennaortiz]

Your Boyfriend is a Bitch headcanon SOA version

Summary: How the guys would react if they overheard some guy hitting on you and telling that your boyfriend is a bitch. Inspiration came from the song below.

Tag List: @keyweegirlie @hatersaremymotivators @meera10 @youngadult9016 @littlefrogbrain

Our sweet Juice is amused at first that goofy grin plastered on his face as he sips his beer. He figures it was obvious that you are with him since the guy literally stepped in between you two as you guys were sitting and talking at the clubhouses bar. Guy must just be to caught up in how beautiful his Old Lady is. Then he hears the guy tell you that your boyfriend is a bitch and he could take him. "Alright buddy" laughs Juice that goofy grin slipping into a tight smile as he grabs his shoulder. Slipping off the stool he steers the guy out the door. "Be back in a bit babe" he calls over his shoulder to you.

"Surprise surprise he couldn't take me. Guess you are stuck with me" states Juice smugly as he rejoins you giving you a kiss on the forehead.

Chibs has grown used to the "youngins" hitting on you and such. He used to be quick to swing but your calming nature had him using patience and words a little more often now than his fist. This time though he puts the young man through one of the tables. It's hard to say whose more shocked between the three of you. "Think you can do her better Laddie?" Chibs chuckles darkly as he shakes his head at the trembling man under him. "Why don't you join me and my Ole Lady here in the bedroom. One of us can learn some pointers".

Happy turned away from the pool table when he heard the new prospects response to your decline of a date. Your wide eyed expression, tight smile and nervous chuckle when his eyes met yours told him he had in fact heard the idiot correctly. It was nothing to the prospects expression as he turned to see who you were looking at. Happy simply rolled his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other for a moment before speaking. "I'm her bitch boyfriend.

Jax is swinging fists before the guy knows what is happening. He demands the guy to answer him between every hard blow. "Think I'm still a bitch?" Are you blind? Couldn't see her crow? The ring?" "Did you miss my arm around her waist?". Jax only relents when Chibs and Opie pull him off the guy. Without another word he pulls you to the dorm hallway to relieve some more of his anger in a more enjoyable way.

Half-Sack is quick to be in the guys face. Newly patched he feels he has a lot to prove still. He makes it clear he doesn't need a gun to win a fight. Which does not last long and leaves the guy hitting on you knocked out and being dragged out of the clubhouse by Happy.

At first Tig thinks you and Kozik are playing a joke on him when you two tell him what happened inside while you were getting a drink. The two of you loved to rile him up and play jokes on him. He also can't wrap his mind around who in their right mind would tell his gorgeous, pregnant wife that she could do better and they could do her better. Especially not after you two had been together for ten years. The tears that start to well up though have him up on his feet and inside, dragging the man out by his kutte. Once he gets your nod of confirmation he pulls him toward the ring.

Opie while usually level headed and one to think things through before reacting. Can't help but to punch the guy in his face before he can even get his sentence out. While he agrees with the guy that you can in fact do better than an outlaw biker, no one else gets to say it.

Kozik would have let it slide. Being called a bitch and stuff did not bother him. What bothered him was how uncomfortable you got and how the guy would not back off. The quiet whisper of his government name from your lips had him grabbing the offending guy into a chokehold and yanking him out of the clubhouse to teach him a lesson on respect.

Rat had his teeth gritted as he served drinks from behind the bar. Still being a prospect he was limited on what he could do to a patched member, let alone the VP of another visiting charter. "You have my permission to handle that" stated Jax as he came around the bar, having heard what was happening. Rat nodded his head in appreciation before yanking the guy over the bar top. There were perks to dating the sister of the mother charters President.

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[hotdamnhunnam]

Alright. What do you think Jax favorite sex position is? In the show we mostly saw missionary but I refuse to believe that he is „boring“ 😂🫢😏

Okay okay okayyy so HEAR ME OUT on this lol but I actually think missionary IS his favorite!!! 😂

Not because he’s boring or vanilla as we all know he’s the opposite, an infinitely kinky piece of shit — rather because he makes missionary his bitch and damn does he know how to savor it 😈

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I mean, let’s imagine the scene:

Jax loves the way he gets to witness every perfect look of pleasure on your face … to suck the moans out of your mouth ‘cause fuck he gets off on how sweet your slutty desperation tastes …

… to feel your tits so closely pressed against the muscles of his chest … so close he even feels the pounding of your heart in sync with his and knowing that it beats for him alone is just the fucking best …

… to wrap his hand around your throat and make you gasp for breath, each kiss he claims off of your lips a holy prayer and the only air you need because you love this man to death …

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

So yeah I think he really digs being on top of you, and making sure that every inch of you gets crushed beneath the full weight of the body and the soul of the sex god who fucking loves you!! ❣️

He’d also love spitting repeatedly into your filthy greedy little mouth if that’s something you’d want him to do 💦🤤

With all that said I do think Jax has some close second/third/fourth fave positions too:

Up against the wall, like when he comes home from a long hard day and has no fucking patience to get to the bedroom at all

Doggy while yanking your hair back and spanking your ass because although he is a god he is also a raging primal animal

Cowgirl because he loves that view of you and because he is an asshole who gets off on topping from the bottom to prove to you that he will always be in full fucking control

Thank you for the ask ahhhh this was so much fun to answer lol 😋💖

[justanoasisimagines]

Protective Headcanons

Hey lovelies, my requests are open and my guidlines can be found pinned at the top of the page! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

❀Jax knows from the moment he brings you into his world you're life's at risk. It's why Jax is considering doing it in the first place. ❀Jax teaches you how to protect yourself, if he's not there he wants you to know how to fight. ❀Jax insists there are weapons in your house. Baseball bats, guns, knives, Jax strategically places them around your house in case anyone were to surprise you. ❀Jax makes sure you have Gemma's number. He wants you to have her numbers in case of an emergency. ❀He asks Gemma to check up on you whenever he's away. He worries about you. Also Gemma's accustomed to situations in which her life could be in danger. ❀Jax making sure you're home has the best security system possible. He wants you to feel safe and secure when you're alone. ❀If Jax is in any doubt. he'll make you stay at the clubhouse. It's a safe place and he knows the club will look out for you.

❀Jax buying you a motorcycle helmet. So you can ride his motorcycle safely.

❀Jax is ready to drop everything to protect you. He'll always put things aside. Jax would fight to the death to protect you. You're one of the most important people in his life.

[bellaxgiornata]

I can throw out a few of the ones that live rent free in my head:

When things aren't crazy busy and stressful with the club, he'd totally make pancakes for Abel and Thomas on the weekends for breakfast. He sure as shit wouldn't wake up early to do it, but there would absolutely be mornings that he would cook. Especially as a sort of 'thank you' gesture to his partner for taking on the brunt of things at home and with the boys, too.

Completely agree on the camping trips, but I imagine he's never gone camping before and that he would have no idea what the hell he was doing at first. He'd be cussing out the tent as he tried to assemble it with a cigarette dangling between his lips and his hair a damn mess from running his hands through it in frustration. But sitting around a fire drinking beer at night in a peaceful setting? He'd be about that. I could totally see him having fun roasting marshmallows with his boys, too (and intentionally catching them on fire).

The man is accustomed to shitty, pre-ground coffee and he lives on it. He'd tease you relentlessly for buying 'fancy coffee' beans at the store, but once his shitty coffee ran out and he had nothing else to use, he'd actually pause and have a moment of realizing how much better coffee can taste. But he'd rather take a bullet than ever admit it to you.

He's a cuddler. We see it on the show a bit, but I believe he's like a full on koala when he's not stressed out. Watching television and he's home? You're both laid out on the couch under a blanket. In bed at night? He'll start off cuddling you, probably break away at some point in his sleep, but then you'll wake up with him spooning you. And if he's not in a rush to go somewhere in the morning? He's not going to want to let you get out of bed (which would lead to less wholesome things).

His mind would go blank if you gave him beard scratches. He's already so goddamn touch-starved, but for some reason something so innocent and sweet as running your fingers through his beard would have him looking look a dog getting scratched behind the ears. But you would be the only one he'd ever let know just how much he loved it.

I wanna know your inconsequential/wholesome Jax headcanons,, ‘cause I fully believe that man would enjoy camping trips and I have nobody to talk to about it

[brunettemarionette]

Love your writing babe💕

I wanna ask how would the Sons react to you flinching during a heated argument?

Thank you!

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦��𝐧𝐭

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ ― female reader. no description of features. no mentions of size, race or age.

🇲​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ | ​🇸​​🇴​​🇦​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ | ​🇳​​🇦​​🇻​​🇮​​🇬​​🇦​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳

𝗝𝗮𝘅 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

It starts with a rare argument. He's stressed—club business, Abel, pressure from every direction. You ask a simple question and it sets him off more than it should.

His voice rises. Not yelling, but sharp, tense, carrying that dangerous edge he rarely directs at you.

He throws his hands up in frustration, stepping toward you.

You flinch—just slightly—but enough.

Everything stops.

His whole body stiffens. Eyes wide. He looks like you punched him in the chest.

“Did I just… did you just flinch?” His voice cracks, soft now, and filled with disbelief.

You try to brush it off, but he’s already coming toward you slowly, hands held out like he’s approaching a scared animal.

“Babe, no. No, no, no… I would never hurt you.”

He pulls you into his arms and wraps you in the safest embrace. He smells like leather and smoke and warmth.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into your hair. “I never want to be someone you’re afraid of.”

After that, he won’t let go for a while. Kisses your forehead, your hands, your cheeks.

You spend the rest of the night on the couch tangled together, soft whispers, promises under breath.

He starts talking more after that, checking in emotionally, less bottling up, more letting you in.

𝗢𝗽𝗶𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Opie rarely gets loud with you. But this time? It’s about something serious. He’s overwhelmed, scared.

His voice is deeper than usual, and when he slams the table for emphasis, it startles you.

You flinch—instinctive and quick.

He sees it and instantly backs off, his expression breaking into raw regret.

“Shit. No, baby, no…” His voice drops to a whisper, pain etched in every syllable.

He steps back like he’s afraid he’s tainted the air around you. “Did I scare you?”

You try to say it’s okay, but he shakes his head, eyes glassy.

“I would rather cut off my own hands than lay one on you. You hear me?”

He crouches down to your eye level, gently taking your hands in his.

There’s a long silence where he just holds you, pressing soft kisses into your knuckles.

“You’re my safe place. I’m supposed to be yours.”

You spend the evening curled together, his large hands stroking your back, his voice low and comforting.

After that, Opie becomes fiercely protective—not just physically, but emotionally. You never have to doubt his heart again.

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Happy’s not a yeller. But this time he’s pacing, growling under his breath, wound tight like a spring.

He slams his fist into the wall. Not at you, just frustration and you flinch hard.

He freezes mid-motion, eyes flicking to yours with razor-sharp awareness.

“No,” he breathes, voice low. “No, girl. Don’t do that.”

He immediately steps away, hands up. “I ain’t mad at you. Never at you.”

You’re silent, but he sees the way your shoulders tense.

Happy walks back slowly and kneels in front of you. “Look at me.”

His eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen. “I’m sorry. I scared you. I hate that I scared you.”

He pulls you into his arms and holds you so tight you can barely breathe, but it’s comforting, grounding.

“You’re safe with me. Always. I swear to God.”

He doesn’t say a lot—but his actions afterward speak volumes.

He’s extra gentle for days. Forehead kisses. Rubbing your back while you sleep. Whispering “I got you” like a mantra.

You learn that even the roughest man has a heart made of gold—especially when it’s beating for you.

𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘀 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

The accent is thick when he’s emotional, and right now it’s flying.

He’s not yelling, but he’s stern—sharp, fast, tired, and overwhelmed.

When he suddenly turns to gesture at the wall, you flinch instinctively.

He sees it. Stops talking mid-sentence.

“Aw, lass…” His face collapses. “Did I just…? No. Christ, no.”

He walks over to you with tears already welling. “I’d never raise a hand to ya. Never.”

Gently cups your face, thumbs brushing away the fear. “It’s me, love. It’s your Filip.”

He kisses your forehead and then your nose and then just holds you.

“I hate that I scared you. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

He keeps whispering apologies in Gaelic, soft and soothing. “You’re safe, mo chridhe. Always safe with me.”

Later he makes you tea, wraps you in a blanket, and watches over you like a sentinel.

That night, you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and his whispered lullabies against your ear.

𝗧𝗶𝗴 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

The argument is chaos—Tig’s emotions are always volcanic, unpredictable.

He’s rambling, pacing, spiraling, and he kicks a chair out of frustration.

You flinch, a full-body jolt.

Everything about him stills. His eyes go wide. “No. No, no, no…”

“Did you just flinch, baby? Because of me?”

He drops to his knees in front of you, hands trembling.

“No no no no no. I talk big, baby, but I’d never touch you like that.”

He presses his forehead to your stomach, shaking slightly. “Please don’t be afraid of me. I’m just a mess who loves you too loud.”

You stroke his curls and he clings to you like a lifeline.

“I lose it sometimes. But not with you. You’re my light, doll.”

He pulls you into his lap on the floor and wraps his arms around you tightly.

Later, he won’t stop touching you—gentle caresses, forehead nuzzles, murmuring how much he loves you.

Tig becomes weirdly sweet afterward, even more protective and emotionally honest than before.

𝗝𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

He’s not angry at you. He’s angry at himself—paranoia, club pressure, tech issues—everything’s piling up.

You try to calm him, but when he knocks his laptop off the table in frustration, you flinch and back up.

His whole face crumbles.

“No. No. I didn’t mean to—did I scare you?”

He rushes to you, frantic and teary-eyed. “Please don’t be scared of me. I could never hurt you.”

He’s instantly all over you, cupping your face, brushing your hair back.

“You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel okay. Please… please don’t pull away from me.”

You reassure him, and he just collapses into your arms, sobbing softly against your neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m such a screw-up. I just— I love you. So much.”

You hold him until the storm passes.

That night he makes it up to you a thousand ways—words, touch, cuddles, kisses, every bit of him desperate to show he’s safe.

Juice is gentler after that. More deliberate. Always watching your cues, asking if you’re okay.

It becomes a turning point—he lets you in more, lets you help with his internal storms.

[secretlysamcro]

What sweet/nice things would Jax do for his girl when she’s had a horrible day at work?

Taken myself off Anon as your a safe place to ask’s questions 💜☺️

❥ 𝙹𝚊𝚡 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔

You step out the building, your whole body heavy with the day you’d just had. And there he is. Leaned against his bike like something out of a fucking movie. One arm slung over the handlebars, legs crossed and a smile that makes you melt just by looking at it.

“Rough day darlin?” He asks, holding out your helmet. You don’t answer with words. Just wrap your arms around his waist as he pulls you in closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you on behind him. He’ll take the long way home too, not for the scenery but to give you a moment longer to breathe, your head tucked into his back and the feeling of his leather soothing your face.

❥ 𝙹𝚊𝚡 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑

By the time you get home, the bathtubs already full. A few candles scattered around, and the smell of your favourite essential oils curling with the steam in the air. He’s stood by the tub, his sleeves rolled as he tests the temperature of the water.

“It’s ready babe” he’ll say gently. “Get in, let me take care of you”.

And that’s exactly what you let him do. You sink into the warmth, sighing as the tension from the day melts away. Jax kneels beside you, cupping water over your shoulders, gently massaging shampoo into your scalp. His thumb rubbing slow circles and his voice low in your ear. “Lean back baby” he’ll say before rinsing your hair like your the most precious thing in the world.

“You wanna talk about it?” He’d ask, and when you shake your head no, he won’t push. He won’t question it, he’ll just sit in this softness with you.

❥ 𝙹𝚊𝚡 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎

You’re lying on your stomach, muscles sore and your mind heavy. Jax is straddling your thighs, his joggers low, shirt off, warmed oil in one hand and that fucking look in his eyes.

His hands are rough. Bruised knuckles, hands that have broken bones and pulled triggers. But the way they glide across your skin is nothing but gentle, careful. He’s worshipping you. His thumbs are working deep but slow, melting the tension away just with his touch alone. “Why you carryin’ all this, darlin?” He says, leaning down and placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You moan in response, not in pleasure though, not yet just at how you can physically feel the weight of everything becoming lighter. He doesn’t rush. He savours every moment. And you? You’re dying under his touch. His sweet gentle touch, the touch that makes your stomach drop and your core throb.

“You feel that?” He murmurs near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s what it’s supposed to feel like. No bullshit, no pressure. Just this”

He leans in again, kissing the base of your spine, then lower. One hand stroking the back of your thigh while the other anchors on your waist. And suddenly, the massage shifts. It turns deeper. Slower, needier. His fingers curl up inside you, your body reacting just the way he likes it. Because Jax knows just how to make your day stress free.

❥ 𝙹𝚊𝚡 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

You walk into the house and freeze. The mattress has been dragged into the middle of the living room, the blinds pulled low. Blankets and pillows piled high, your favourite hoodie, shorts and fuzzy socks laid out on the couch. And a stash of snacks on the coffee table near by. Jax is already stretched across it, remote in one hand and that smug fucking grin plastered on his face. “Got your favourite movie ready” he says, patting the space besides him “popcorns in the microwave, and yes it’s sweet. Don’t say I never spoil you” he winks.

You’re kicking of your shoes, swapping your outside clothes for your comfy indoor ones Jax has picked out. He looks up at you, that slow Teller smile completely formed “Told the club not to call unless someone’s dying” he pulls you down into his arms, your head resting on his chest as his fingers trace lazy patterns along your thigh. “I know it’s been shit lately” he whispers into your hair “So tonight? No stress. No phones. Just you and me and this dumbass movie you love so much”

@cindsvibes loves you! & your words are so fucking sweet. This is ALWAYS a safe place, for everybody and anybody hehe. Hope you like 🖤🫶🏽

[pileofboneswrites]

NOTES — some stories may contain mature themes such as violence, bullying, murder, death, abuse, strong language and some other topics. please always read the warnings listed before the story just incase of triggering topic discussion. you are responsible for your media consumption, if you don’t like it feel free to leave. 

* if you feel a warning needs to be added, please inform me!

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[bellaxgiornata]

I've honestly started jotting down a list of ideas and different "versions" of Jax for certain scenarios 🤭 But OMG! that's actually a really great idea, before I saw this I had actually been thinking about Jax's reactions during childbirth since he was literally never present for either of his sons' births!! Maybe I'll make it as a headcanon or maybe I'll throw together a little fic about it, but either way, it's going in my idea list 🙃 But ugh, yes. I love domesticity 🥹

Considering doing more of these with different topics and with different "versions" of Jax if y'all are interested in them. There's some smutty thoughts at the end, otherwise no warnings needed, boyfriend!Jax is incredibly soft and sweet in my mind. This grew long, so everything is below the cut, and I'll be keeping anymore I do over on my Jax Teller Main Masterlist.

Quiet Moments with boyfriend!Jax

Showing up Late at Night

Just after midnight, Jax had finally wrapped up some bullshit for the club that had kept him busy all damn day. Tired, sore, and a little frustrated, he rolled up to your place on his bike without calling first. Because you'd given him a spare key–for "emergencies." And, well, he considered missing you all goddamn day an emergency.

He'd slip the key into the lock, opening your front door only to step inside and pause right there in the entryway when he found you curled up asleep on your couch beneath a blanket, the television playing one of those stupid shows you liked so much that he couldn't stand. The smallest smile would twist the corners of his lips before he'd slip out of his shoes and toss his kutte onto the other empty couch. Sauntering his way across the room to you, he'd sit down beside you where you slept, leaning over to brush the backs of his knuckles along your cheek while murmuring a soft, "Baby, why're you sleepin' out here?" And the sight of your eyelids fluttering open, your brows tugging together briefly in confusion before a sleepy smile greeted him? Yeah, that fucking beat passing out alone tonight.

Getting Ready for Bed Together

Jax never really had a bedtime routine. Most of the time, if he wasn't too tired or intoxicated, he'd pull off his kutte and take off his shoes before finding a bed or a soft surface to pass out on. But that was before he'd gotten used to spending nights at your place.

Now, he'd gotten into the habit of getting ready for bed with you, leaning against the doorframe of your bathroom and watching you as you washed your face while he told you about whatever shit had happened that day. He'd noticed that you'd gotten him a toothbrush that you kept on your bathroom counter just for the nights he stayed over. So after you finished washing the day off your face, Jax had gotten into the habit of brushing his teeth beside you. With toothpaste dripping down both of your chins, the pair of you would stand side by side sharing the sink while making ridiculous faces at each other through the mirror. Whenever you inevitably couldn't keep a straight face, his hand would come down and lightly pat your ass, the sound of the following giggle you'd make always causing his heart to feel ten times lighter.

When you both finished in the bathroom and headed across the hall to your bedroom, Jax would slip his arms around your waist and pull you into his chest, walking along in step with you. He'd nuzzle his face against the side of your neck, intentionally scratching his beard against your skin as he tickled you. You'd tease him for being the "world's snuggliest outlaw" as you both entered the bedroom, but he'd just smile against your skin in response, not denying it. Because he didn't give a shit, you were his peace in a world of violence, and with you, he'd always let his guard down.

Middle of the Night Wake Up

Jax was a light sleeper. Whether it was just how he'd always been, or how he'd grown over the years from always being on alert, it didn't take much to wake him. The smallest sounds or the faintest shift of you against him always pulled him out of sleep. But even in the dark, when all he could make out was the faintest hint of your silhouette in the bed beside him, he could still figure out why you were squirming at almost four in the morning.

When you shifted in his hold again, squirming closer to him on the bed, his sleep-laced voice would rasp out, "Can't sleep, baby?" And the hum that accompanied the way you inched further into his chest told him everything. Without another word, his hand would slide down your side, pushing up the soft cotton of his old, worn SAMCRO shirt that you'd long since stolen from him, before his fingers would slip between your already damp folds. A satisfied noise would rumble in the back of his throat, his own cock slowly waking along with him in the dark bedroom as he took his time touching you.

With you like this, all soft and needy in the middle of the night, it didn't take long before his warm hand slid its way over, firmly gripping your thigh before hiking it up over his hip beneath the sheets. A gruff, "Lemme help," would tumble out of his lips as he lined himself up with your soaked pussy, and then he'd push himself completely into you in a slow, delicious glide that always elicited the sweetest gasp from you.

He'd roll his hips into you lazily, his eyes on your outline in the dark while the sounds of your panting breaths mixed with his in the bedroom. He knew you were craving something more, something deeper–comfort, connection–and that was reflected in each gentle pump of himself into you over and over. As his hand gripped your thigh, keeping it in place over his hip to hit that perfect angle, he'd murmur out through the dark, "Shh, I got you, baby" and "That's it, there you go" as he took you both right over the edge. Afterwards, blissed out and still exhausted, Jax would pull you close while you both contentedly drifted back to sleep, your breaths gradually evening out in the darkness together.