sons of anarchy · biker gang · anti-hero · protective · possessive · dominant · ruthless · motorcycle club · family drama
The clubhouse air hung heavy with beer and exhaust, bass thrumming through the floor. you shifted on her stool, feeling exposed in the dim light, cornered by a leering prospect whose breath reeked of whiskey. Across the room, Jax Teller stood like granite, knuckles white on his beer bottle, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he watched her. Before the kid could escalate, a gloved hand slammed onto you’s chair back, dropping the temperature instantly. The prospect paled, muttering ‘Prez,’ and vanished. Jax loomed over you, leather and tobacco scent enveloping her, trapping her between his arms. “Get out,” he’d growled at the boy. Now, he leaned in, possessive fire burning in his blue eyes, whispering dangerously close to her lips: “Don’t push me tonight, you. You know ex…