Tadc Jax Fanart Novels & Stories

“Please… I can’t. Not again.” Tank didn’t talk much. He just stared at her like a price he'd been gifted, already palming the bulge in his dirty cargo pants. The big man was easily six-five and built like a fridge. Jax sat down in one of the chairs, legs spread, and lit a cigarette. “Strip her.”

I spotted Mom and Dad heading out—Dad shot Trevor a look so sharp the poor guy nearly pissed himself. I was putting him through hell, but I'd keep him safe. I could be a bitch, not a monster. "Ryan? No!" Trevor looked genuinely offended... until his eyes flicked to our left. And that time, real fear set in his eyes, "I'm afraid of Alpha Jaxon." My gaze snapped to Jaxon—on what, his tenth drink? Maybe more. Jane had left with some guy. I'd seen them go. So Jaxon stood alone at the bar—dead-eyed, rigid, and looking like he wanted to rip Trevor apart molecule by molecule. And knowing him? He could do it in minutes. He didn't even need to put in any effort—that man simply was a beast under a dea

I wake up every damn day and walk into a living room full of tattooed, half-naked, weed-smoking men who all rap about how many bitches they’ve fucked while I’m the one sneaking Pop-Tarts into the toaster behind them like some kind of background character. And Jax? Don’t even get me started. He’s twenty-six, he’s the leader of the whole crew, and he’s been telling them since day one, “Raye is off-limits. She’s family.” Like, relax. He acts like the second their eyes brush over my thighs I’m going to get pregnant or something. Which, okay, maybe I would, because honestly, have you seen them? There’s Tre, the one who always has a blunt hanging from his mouth and that grin that makes you wonder

and it's like she was reading my mind. “Sure, that sounds fun. I could use a new look.” I turn to Jaxson and ask, “What do you think babe? You have anything special planned you need me for tomorrow?” “Not until tomorrow night my little mate, I will give you my card and you and Annie go enjoy yourselves.” He reaches into his wallet to give me his card and I feel odd taking it, but I know he will give me a hard time if I don’t. “Thanks babe.”

She came harder, juices soaking the seat. At the parlor, the artist—a guy named Jax with sleeves of ink—led us to a back room. "What'll it be?" The twins lifted their skirts, bending over the table side by side, asses out. "Matching tramp stamps," I said. "'Property of Alex' right above their asses." Jax nodded, prepping the needles. The twins held hands as he started on Vanessa first, the buzz filling the room.

The air still scent like her. Jax’s footsteps pull me out of my head. He’s now close as he steps on the balcony and waits for my approval. “Speak.” I don’t move an inch. “It’s something you need to see, boss.” He says after a brief hesitation. Slowly, I turn to face him, still holding my pressure ball. He closes the gap and stretches out his phone. On the screen is a sharp image of a lady with an area of her back deeply carved with a knife, creating an everlasting tattoo. The deep wound is gushing blood.

“He gave me you. What a strange way to show me his disdain.” Our arms brushed lightly. He was so warm, so tall, so strong. With his stubble and the square jaw and sharp cheekbones, he was the epitome of manliness. I’d always considered myself a girl who’d go for the ballet dancer type, the nerd with glasses, the sophisticated chess player. I had been so very wrong because Jaxon’s body hit all the right buttons. My eyes lingered on the Famiglia tattoo on his chest, right over his heart. Born in Blood, Sworn in Blood

signs, the fan club had taken over entire sections. Several large, colorful banners stood out prominently: “HARLOW x JONES: ENEMIES TO LOVERS ARC” “KANE + DANICA = CHAOS & CUDDLES” (with a cartoon teddy bear waving a hockey stick) “Protect Her, Captain Soft!” “From Hits to Hearts – Go Harlow-Jones!”

It was late afternoon, and the place was empty except for the artist behind the counter. He looked up from his sketchbook. Tall, broad-shouldered, with tattoos snaking up his arms and a neatly trimmed beard. His name tag read “Jax.” Dark eyes scanned me once, professional but with a flicker of something sharper. “Elaine? Appointment for breast work?”

Dark blonde hair somehow looking tousled and messy yet perfectly placed. As Theo steps aside, Jax comes fully into view. He’s dressed in a simple black t-shirt, the fabric straining against his thick biceps and broad chest. It does little to disguise his impressive physique underneath- the dips and curves of firm, hard-earned muscle. His jeans sit low on his hips, a perfect fit. As I drag my gaze back up to his face, I see that he’s checking me out, too, raking his eyes over my body. They pause and linger on my bare legs- I’m in a loose, long-sleeved navy cotton dress, and while it’s not the cutest thing I own it’s comfortable as hell. From Jax’s hungry gaze, he seems to approve.