࣪ ₊ VΛMPYЯ GIЯL ੭

navi me talk to me, and death shall return ( 000 ) — JANUARY EIGHTEENTH OF THE YEAR TWENTY-TWENTY-FIVE this blog was created 𐙚ㅤㅤ

ㅤ୨୧ tags explicit content slight corruption and size kink, female reader, college girl reader, canon compliant, jax is all soft for her, maybe dubcon?? a little??

ㅤ୨୧ WC 0.3k

ㅤ୨୧ notes i wrote this a few weeks ago when i first started watching SOA, crazy that this is my tumblr comeback. whatever. i love charlie hunnam

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This shit is unacceptable.

It’s not like this is anything new (no, this has been going on for the better part of half a year now), Jax makes it a point to see her at least once a week. For multiple reasons, but the main one being a selfish one—he needs this. Needs it like he needs oxygen, needs water. He’d love to believe it’s nothing more than carnal, that he’s just never happier than when he’s sinking himself inside of her.

But, really?

The love he’s starting to develop for this girl is killing him; killing his commitment to the club, making him softer.

Knowing all of this should get him pissed at her. That’s usually how it ends. He’s never been good with his temper, but for some reason, she makes him want to fix that shit. First time he ever tried to take some bullshit out on her, she slapped the hell out of him. Yeah, she’s the farthest thing from those crow eaters he’s used to. Or used to be used to. Hasn’t been with one of them since he got her. And they’re not even official. Pathetic, right?

But like he said before, he needs her.

“Mm-mm,” he murmurs into the soft skin of her neck, mouthing over the pretty mole there. His breath is hot, biting. He’s got her bent over her desk (God, he’s such a dick—corrupting a sweet, innocent college girl—got so much ahead of her, so much going on in that gorgeous head of hers), homework long forgotten. And he’s so big, he can tell she’s still not used to it by the way she clenches and shudders and presses herself down into the desk, trying to run from the punishment of his hips. “Oh, baby, you can take it,” he coos, the cold, silver metal of his rings prominent as his fingers curl over the expanse of her slim waist.

She whines, and he groans, lifting his weight off of her slightly, only to push deeper. “Don’t cry,” he thinks he’d be so good at acting, because his voice sounds like he’s just so sorry for her. He’s not. “You got it, sweetheart. You were made for me, huh?”

— fwb!jax with college!girl reader