jaxteller87

[jaxteller87]

I could have used a warning on how much I was going to end up falling for Lin Ford.

[jaxteller87]

Charlie Hunnam as Jax Teller ⤷ Sons of Anarchy, S01E01 | 2008

[jaxteller87]

jax is the type of guy who silently stares when you fall asleep on the couch, before carrying you back to bed with a cigarette still dangling from his lips. the type of guy who quietly refills your coffee every morning, without you having to ask. the type to buy you stupid little things he sees in gas stations; a pink lighter, cheap silver earrings, cherry chapstick he licks off your lips. jax is the type of guy who whispers “be good” before pulling your panties to the side in the garage while the boys are still out front. the type who whispers filth in your ear as he buries his fingers inside you, begging you to come for him.

[jaxteller87]

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

[jaxteller87]

Talk Poetry to Me

Jax’s POV

Amber and I were on the phone, talking about our day like we always did when I was at the clubhouse late or she was stuck at home recovering. It was normal— her tucked into bed, me pacing the lot out back with a smoke in hand, worrying about her and dealing with club business.

Just as I was about to say goodnight, she hit me with a rather blunt request.

“So… how about you talk dirty to me, Papa.”

I froze mid-step, staring out across the asphalt with a wrench in my hand like I had wandered out on center stage at some talent show.

“Wait— what did you just say?” I chuckled, caught off guard in the best possible way.

“I— shit— I didn’t mean it like that. Or maybe I did. I mean— ugh, I’m gonna shut up now.” Her voice was this mix of mortified and adorable, and I could practically hear her burying her face in the pillow. “Feel free to say anything…”

I didn’t know what to say— or I guess, how I should ‘start.’

“Say something… geez!... okay… shutting up now.”

“Nah, angel,” I laughed. The short stint of silence while I replayed her endearing request in my mind was comical. “You don’t have to shut up. I’ll do anything you want. This voice kink thing… been a hell of a ride.”

There was a pause, soft breathing on the other end. I imagined she was lightly playing with herself. Hopefully, I didn’t kill the mood too much with my hesitation.

“It has, and I love it! I just don’t know how to ask for it without sounding like a cornball,” Amber finally admitted. “You weren’t even talking ‘dirty’ like people normally do. It was more like…”

“Poetry?” I interrupted, lighting my cigarette.

Amber did her best to laugh off her embarrassment. “Yes. That’s it! Sweet poetry.”

And that was the moment when ‘sweet poetry’ became code. Our little thing. It was our way of saying ‘talk dirty to me’ but without running the risk of sounding like we were just quoting Poison’s hit song.

So I leaned against the side of the clubhouse wall, kicked one boot over the other, and let the gravel of my voice do the rest; just like my little darlin’ wanted.

“We’re in bed,” I started slowly, “you’re lying on top of me— skin to skin, nothing between us but heat. My hands are trailing your back, fingertips running slow like I’ve got nowhere to be and all night to touch you…”

Her breath hitched. I could feel it even through the phone. A few quiet seconds passed, and then—

“Don’t stop… please.”

I didn’t.

I told her how her legs felt tangled in mine, how her skin smelled after a shower, how it felt to have her chest pressed to mine, rising and falling together like waves on the ocean.

And then, eventually, I heard it— that shift in her voice. Her breathing became ragged, whispered pleas for just a little more, and then soft gasps like sweet music that only I got to hear.

“I’m here, baby,” I murmured. “I’m not hanging up until you come down from this high.”

“…thank you, Papa,” she whispered, voice shaky but calm now. “I mean it.”

“If you got a drink nearby, take a sip,” I said softly. “Hydrate. Even aftercare over the phone’s gotta be solid, right?”

She let out this quiet laugh. “Even your aftercare is on point.”

I could hear the smile in her voice now. That grounded calm she got when everything in her world clicked back into place. When all the noise died down and it was just the two of us.

“This voice thing’s been a damn game changer,” I muttered, watching the smoke curl up past the moonlight.

“You can say that again,” she chuckled, finally sounding like herself again.

I took one last drag from my cigarette, flicked the ashes onto the gravel, and smiled.

Who knew that in the middle of SAMCRO chaos, porn-level chaos from Tig’s latest dating disaster, and club politics that never slept—my girl would just need a little sweet poetry.

And all I had to do was speak.

Amber’s POV

It had been three nights. Three long-ass nights.

Jax was on a club run— Arizona, I think— doing whatever shady, necessary thing they had to do this time. He’d tell me the details if I wanted to hear them, but we learned a long time ago that a lot of what the ‘club’ did— didn’t sit too well with me. Plus, this was kind of Jax’s way of not having to share all the skeletons in his closet with me— which I was thankful for. 

Regardless, Jax texted when he could, called once or twice, but I still hated how the space between us felt like a mile-wide canyon when he wasn’t home.

So I decided to do something about it.

I shuffled around the bedroom, pulling out this little black satin nightie I’d stashed at the bottom of my drawer. Something I bought half on impulse, half hoping I’d get the nerve to wear it someday. Tonight was someday.

I snapped a mirror selfie— nothing graphic, just enough leg and a touch of shoulder to leave no doubt— and sent it off to my old man with a caption that read, ‘Just saying hi…’

A few seconds passed.

Then my phone buzzed.

JAX: ‘You look… scrumptious.’

I snorted when I laughed. Scrumptious?

ME: ‘You just didn’t say that 😂’

JAX: ‘Sure did, my love. You look beautiful. I’d have my face buried in your chest if I was there. No lie.’

God, that man. Even when he was states away, he could still turn my whole body into a puddle with a sentence. My cheeks warmed as I lay back on the bed, fingers lazily playing with the edge of the nightie, staring at my phone like a lovesick teenager.

ME: ‘I miss you, Papa.’

JAX: ‘I miss you too, baby. I’ll be home late tomorrow. And I swear— we won’t leave the bed for the next few days.’

My heart fluttered. Not from the promise of sex (okay, part of it was that)— but the comfort in his words. The way he always made me feel like a priority, even while enthralled in the wild MC world that he was smack dab in the middle of. That’s just how Jax Teller was— he could weather storms for a lifetime that would break a regular man in a day. He was built different— and he was mine.

ME: ‘You promise?’

JAX: ‘I promise, my angel. I’ll be all yours.’

I set the phone down against my chest, staring up at the ceiling with a dumb smile spreading across my face. You know the kind— like I’d just landed the lead in the school play, but mine came in the form of a biker with bloody knuckles and a gravelly voice.

I loved the way Jax could make me feel like the only soul on earth with just his voice in my ear or his hands on my body. When we were together, like really together… it was intimacy in its purest form.

He didn’t need to flip me around or yank me into some position like we were trying to impress a camera— it was nothing like what went on at Cara Cara. He didn’t perform for effect— he performed for me.

And that’s what made what we have so powerful.

It was in the way his hands explored me slowly, like he was memorizing me for the first time. The way his lips grazed my temple and didn’t rush to my mouth. The way he whispered things he loved about me— my skin, my laugh, the way I looked when I was holding in a smile— before ever mentioning my body.

I pulled the covers over myself, still in that little satin number, just in case he sent another message.

There’s no doubt in my mind that I was still smiling when I finally drifted off.

[jaxteller87]

[jaxteller87]

Jax x Tara (Sons of Anarchy 05.02)

I had never felt more alive than I did at that moment.

[jaxteller87]

this convict makes me fuckin FERAL

[jaxteller87]

[jaxteller87]

Every unhinged fic writer needs an equally unhinged friend who "yes ands" their ideas and encourages them to write all their most far fetched and insane stories.

[jaxteller87]

[jaxteller87]

My way has always been through fanfiction ❤️

any advice on how to find my place in fandoms..?

Honestly, I think it’s down to the people in them. The SOA fandom is honestly the most easiest, appreciative, kindest fandom I’ve ever been apart of (though I haven’t been active in that many since like proper adulthood so this is just coming from me) but honestly everyone is so fucking kind (apart from the anons who decide to get at you for the most dumbest shit ever - which is rare though and only seems to happen to me if I say an opinion on Tara 🫠) being active is a main part too! Talking to people etc. (which was scary for me!!!!! I’m so awkward talking to people but all the girlies I do talk to on here are so fucking kind and I love you all, and if you’re reading this you’ll know who you are hehe) 🍒🫶🏽🐦‍⬛🖤 if you find it easier, talking through reblogs or notes is easier hehe.

But that’s all I can think of really. Not that I look at it in the way of finding my place tho, if that makes sense I just type into the void and hope someone catches it on the other end 🤣🫣

[jaxteller87]

Talk To Me, Too

Teenage Years

Jax’s POV

There’s a quiet sort of peace that comes from making your bed. The kind of peace you don’t really get around the club— or anywhere near Charming, for the matter. It’s the kind of mundane thing I’ve started to enjoy more lately. Especially today, with Amber coming over.

It wasn’t date night in the romantic sense. She’d just been cleared to go out again after weeks recovering from her shunt replacement surgery. We hadn’t been out-out in almost two months, and she’d been going stir-crazy ever since the staples came out. Saying she was dealing with a spout of cabin fever would have been a massive understatement.

A few days ago, I caught her trying to organize the pantry from her chair— she pulled the whole damn shelf of canned beans down on herself, trying to reach the top. The next morning, she rearranged her sock drawer three times because, quote, ‘the vibes weren’t right.’ And yesterday, she dead-serious suggested we repaint my entire room ‘to achieve maximum energy flow.’ I told her that was a very specific form of madness and that maybe she needed to go to the park and get some sunshine or something. So yeah. It was time.

I was halfway through tucking the corners of the blanket down military-style when Ma popped her head into the room.

“Jackson— don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What are you talking about, Ma?”

“Don’t play coy with me, young man— you cleaned up around here, put on fresh linens, and properly made your bed.”

“So?” I shrugged.

“So— no funny business.”

I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly fell out of my skull. “Ma…”

She sauntered in, crossing her arms as if she were a prison guard, and it was her day to run the inspection. “I’m serious. No slipping up. You keep saying you’re not ready— but when you are, you better be smart. Protection, Jackson.”

I groaned and tossed the pillow down with more force than necessary. “Jesus, Ma. Please. I’m begging you. Stop talking to me like this.”

She smirked, enjoying watching me squirm. “You can’t stop me from being your mother.”

“Can I at least stop you from being a pervy mother?”

“Nope. If I don’t say my piece now, I might just end up being a pervy grandmother.”

“Ma!”

“I’m just sayin’, Jax.”

“Yeah, whatever. Noted, alright, now can you give me a hand with the corner here?”

She helped me finish the bed without saying much after that. But as she straightened the pillow, she mumbled, “You’re a good man, baby. She’s lucky.” And then she left before I could say anything back.

That night, the couch was full of takeout containers, and the living room smelled like sweet and sour chicken. Amber had one leg pulled up, balancing her carton on her knee, the other tucked under her. Her sunflower bucket hat sat tilted on her head. She’d started wearing it more since the surgery, said ‘it helped her feel like her again.’

“So,” I said between bites, “are you at least a little excited this is our last year in that hellhole?”

“Which one? High school or this town?” she asked, half-laughing, taking a long sip of her iced tea.

I grinned. “Yes to both of those.”

She chuckled, but there was this flicker in her eyes— like she wanted to believe it. That something was waiting on the other side of all this.

“Hey, is it cool if I take this off?” she asked, gesturing to the hat.

“You don’t have to ask me that.”

“I know. But...”

“Cutest mohawk ever,” I said, meaning it as she pulled the hat off and rubbed the side of her head. “Stitches still itchy?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, running her fingers gently near the scar. “They come out next week. Can’t wait. I’ve been fighting the urge to scratch like a junkie.”

“Well, you’re a cute junkie.”

Suddenly, Amber’s eyes shifted. “Wait a sec— what’s that?”

She pointed to the lamp table, where I had stupidly forgotten to hide the book.

I tried to look nonchalant. “That? Oh... just something I picked up.”

“You’ve been reading ‘A Walk to Remember?’ No way!” Her laugh was pure shock and pure delight, all wrapped in one.

“You like the movie so much,” I shrugged, picking at my chicken, “figured I’d see what all the fuss was about.”

“You didn’t!” she gasped, grinning ear to ear.

“I did, though.”

“Yes! You did!” she blushed and chortled.

“I can see why you’re into it if I’m being honest,” I told her. “It’s not just some sappy drama. It’s... it’s got heart.”

After dinner, we curled up on the couch with the book between us. I read aloud while she nestled into my side. Her voice chimed in every few pages with questions or comments; her excitement was childlike and sincere.

“She’s gonna give him her Bible, isn’t she?” she guessed, pointing at the paragraph I’d just finished.

“I’m not telling,” I smirked, but her smile gave her away. She already knew.

Amber had fallen asleep by the time I reached chapter ten. Not just dozing in and out, but totally gone— prancing around Dreamville with the Sandman. Her head was resting on my chest, and her breathing was slow and steady. I could still feel the smile on her lips. She always told me there was something about my voice that calmed her down ever since we were young bucks. Maybe it was just because I never raised it around her. Or maybe, in a world that gave her a lot of noise, I just knew how to speak soft when she needed it.

I put the book aside and pulled a blanket up around us, tucking her in close against me. Her body relaxed completely— no tension in her shoulders, no scrunched-up face. No discomfort. Just peace.

“Night, my love,” I whispered against her temple, kissing her gently.

Ambers POV

It was a Thursday morning, and I was buried in a pile of half-zipped backpacks, school paperwork, and a hoodie I hadn’t washed in three weeks but absolutely had to wear today because it was ‘the comfy one.’ You’d think prepping for high school senior year would get easier, not more complicated. Well, whoever spouted that bullshit was wrong— at least in my case. When I was a freshman and sophomore, I remember watching the seniors practically ooze senioritis as if it were a contagious disease. Some of them barely showed up; others just floated through the day like background characters in their own lives. One guy in my grade even pulled the ultimate move— he crammed all his required credits into his first three years, so now, as a senior, he just shows up, coasts through four straight hours of study halls, and heads home. On the surface, that sounds kind of amazing— especially when I’m buried under assignments and deadlines. The idea of mentally checking out while still technically ‘doing school’ is tempting. But honestly? The thought of being stuck in a building for half a day with literally nothing to do sounds like a special kind of slow, silent torture. I’m not sure if I’d find it freeing… or if it would slowly drive me insane.

I was mid-rummage for my earbuds when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

New Voice Message from ‘Teller’

Duration: 10:32

My eyebrows shot up. “No way,” I laughed under my breath, swiping the notification open. “Didn’t even know they made voice notes that long.”

My heart was fluttering like an overly caffeinated butterfly as I sat back against the wall of pillows on my bed. There was just something about hearing his voice. I hadn’t even hit play yet, and I could feel the tightness in my chest from the morning rush start to loosen.

Click.

“Hi, Kemp...” His voice came through the tiny speaker like velvet. “Since you said you like these note things, figured I’d send you a long one. Maybe keep you company while you’re trying to wrangle your mess of a backpack.”

I smiled so hard it made my cheeks hurt.

From there, it just got better. He didn’t say anything earth-shattering—he told me about what Tig did at the garage yesterday (spoiler: it involved peanut butter, a missing wrench, and Chibs threatening to exile him) and about how Gemma made him take out the trash mid-meeting because she said he wasn’t “too much of an outlaw for house chores.”

He even told me he started A Walk to Remember over again because he missed my reactions. Said reading it on his own just wasn’t the same without hearing me gasp and guess plot twists ten pages early.

And all the while, his voice wove around me like a warm blanket. No matter how chaotic the day got— or how many bruises life handed out— there was always this little pocket of peace between us.

By the time it ended, I was lying on my bed, phone pressed to my chest like a total sap. I sighed, blinked away a couple of misty tears, then sat up and hit record.

Hey, teller, I whispered. “You didn’t just make my day— you reset it completely— in the best way possible. Thank you. Thank you for talking to me like I matter. Thank you for making something so small feel so big. I love your voice. And not just because it makes me feel... calm. It makes me feel seen. Like I’m not just here— I exist. To you.”

I hesitated, then added playfully, “Also? You’ve officially ruined peanut butter for me forever. I don’t even know the whole story, yet I feel like I know too much.”

Send.

And just like that, my morning was brand new.

[jaxteller87]

Bonus:

That swagger.

[jaxteller87]

[jaxteller87]

[jaxteller87]