a story in which timothée and norah become highschool sweethearts
or rather a story where timothèe and norah geek over each other to the max
*all lowercase is intended*
*contains mature content/triggering themes*
(disclaimer: this isn't a timmy chapter but i love jj so much and i think this chapter was needed)
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liked by 456 amberharrison: starting a petition to put @/jjsully down for being too damn sexy all the time
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thatgirlnorah: i'd sign it liltimmytim: me too
~
jj
"you can't tell me that you don't think that mona lisa wouldn't be a good shag. that smirk she's got going on—you know she likes it dirty," amber declares.
i laugh, so entangled in every word that falls from her perfect pink lips that i can barely breathe. she licks her lips with a smile, unknowing that her small subconscious action is unbearably intoxicating to me.
she lays against me completely naked. her breasts press against my bare chest, and her delicate fingers cradle my neck. her bronze skin contrasts my own perfectly, and the sight of her makes my arm hair stand up every single time. her tight, defined curls tickle underneath my nose, but i can't find a single bone in my body that would want to push her away.
"what about david? the michelangelo sculpture? homeboy is just hanging out with his cock out, no cares in the world. him and mona should get at it," i retort back. she just beams with my comment, and i would spend every dollar in the world to hear her laughter for the rest of my life.
i think it's kind of funny we're talking about renaissance artworks, when amber's the most beautiful masterpiece at all. she's sculpted by the gods, and i'm truly unworthy of her. i'm the mere pile of discarded marble, while amber's the fucking venus de milo.
"we should go to italy and see david's chode in person," amber suggests, walking her fingers up my chest. she could make it happen easily; her parents wouldn't even notice her, or the funds were gone.
i often wonder if she'd run away with me. i don't need a label, no matter how much i want her to be my girlfriend—i just want to be with her. i'd give up acting for her. i'd give up fucking anything for her; anything to wake up next to her for the rest of my days. we could see the world together. we could travel in an old volkswagen van and smoke pot until our lungs gave out. we could build a life together, and she wouldn't ever have to admit that we're a couple.
even though that's what we are. no matter how many times amber tells me she "doesn't date", a large part of me can't seem to grasp it. she does date; we're fucking dating. i see her every single day, and i take her on dates frequently; they may not be 'typical' dates, but they fit who we are. and god, there's something special there when we have sex. i've had sex with a few girls before her, and nothing ever came close to what we do behind closed doors. there's this outlandish desire for each other that we can't ever stop chasing. i met her parents; i took her to prom; i went to her piano recital. she didn't fucking sleep with anyone else when i left for a month, for fucks sake. the split joints; the late night calls; the pillow talk... it's not all for nothing—we're together.
