#sebastian amoruso

[patovpran]

#pretty boy

[not-so-rosyyy]

"Call me Jet."

SEBASTIAN AMORUSO in Netflix's Avatar: The Last Airbender (2024)

[goodsirs]

Sebastian Amoruso as Jet in Avatar: The Last Airbender — 1.03 "Omashu"

[natlacentral]

New stills via EW

[atlaswav]

FIRESIDE ✦

INFO: atla jet x gn! reader drabble, 1.4k words...... (bad writing i'm not proud💀) SYNOPSIS: you're the damsel in distress that falls for your saving grace. or: delusion WARNINGS: tiny bit of blood AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read (it wasn't supposed to be this long), I wrote this post without making it a proper fic to make up for the lack of jet fanfictions anywhere please take my contribution 😞 listen to fireside by the arctic monkeys 👍

You're a travelling merchant dealing in handmade weapons. Your craft is passed down in your family, and you recently left your hometown on your own for the first time to travel to Ba Sing Se to make a living there.

The day you two first met, you'd been on your horse all day, dragging behind you a creaky stand containing your life’s worth of materials and weapons (rattling with each step – it was beginning to grate on your nerves) with no signs of the glaring sun easing on your weary limbs. So when the forest suddenly falls far too silent for your liking, you don’t even notice in your heat stricken malady.

It’s only when a group of bandits abruptly seizes the reins of your horse, sawing loose your saddle straps when you realise you’re under attack. But by then, they’re already beginning to rifle through your belongings as you fall unceremoniously onto the hard dirt path, wincing as a bandit grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you up. 

You reach for the sword at your belt – the one that you crafted yourself under the guidance of your father once he’d deemed you skilled enough – but you didn’t even need to draw it before a bird call sounded amidst the cacophonous riot.

Emerging from the thick treeline, a band of – kids? Jumped out, wielding perilously sharp and comically large weapons for their ages and sizes. The bandits scoffed at their appearance, brandishing their vicious looking blades at the children who charged at them. 

Then the vice-like grip on your shoulders eased, and a hand appeared in the peripherals of your vision.

As you took the hand being offered – calloused and rough, yet warm – your saviour gave you a cursory glance, checking you for injury. When he finally met your gaze, you both froze in place.

Warm eyes, tanned skin, dark, unruly hair that loosely framed his face. In his other hand he held two long, hooked swords that gleamed in the harsh light. 

Jet couldn’t tell whether you were simply shocked or there was something wrong – either way, there was a fight surging around you, and there was no time for greetings and formalities.

(if you looked for any longer, you’d have seen the slight blush dusting his cheeks)

“Behind,” You had no time to process his meaning before he stepped in front of you, meeting the serrated blade of the bandit with his own weapons in a deafening clash of steel. You quickly drew your sword and slashed at the arm of another bandit whose club soared a high arc above Jet’s head, eliciting a howl of pain as they dropped the club onto the ground and scrambled for the trees.

You two seemed to make a pretty good pair. 

After the dust had settled, he offered you his flask of water, chest heaving, hair clinging to his forehead with perspiration, with a grin playing across his face.

“Thank you.” You take it, drinking your fill before capping the container. “But who are you?”

“We’re the freedom fighters.” His companions wave at you as they attempt to salvage the wreckage of your goods (which you supposed you should’ve also been doing, but you’d had a long day).

“And you?”

“They call me Jet.” he smiles, a glint in his eyes. “But you can call me whatever you want.”

I hate myself for writing that line but I can’t think of another thing for him to say

Anyway time skip a little, he showed you to the freedom fighter’s hideout, and you decide to pay them back for saving you by giving their weapons a little maintenance

They offer you further kindness by inviting you to stay for dinner, to which you accept – what choice did you have after the bandits spoiled most of your food on the ground?

You sharpen some swords, polish some daggers, and share a meal with the ragtag freedom fighters around the fire, laughing along with crude jokes shared about clumsy bandits. 

Then Jet comes up to you with his hooked swords hanging loosely from his grip – offering them to you for maintenance – and your curiosity gets the better of you.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” You observe the craftsmanship of his swords, testing their balance, running your finger along the blade’s hooked ends.

“Pretty neat, huh? They’re Tiger Blades. Traditional weapon.”

“Where’d you get them?”

“Stole it from a firebending soldier.”

You raised your eyebrows skeptically. “You fight off firebending soldiers regularly?”

A grin. “When the job calls for it.”

“That’s not… dangerous?”

“You’ve seen me fight, haven’t you?”

In the firelight, his eyes are alight with molten gold. 

“So your job isn’t just saving random people from bandits?”

He laughs, and the sound fills the air between you with warmth. 

“I wouldn’t say you’re a random person,” you look up, but his gaze is cast into the fire, unreadable. 

When he doesn’t say anything further, you sustain the silence, only rummaging through your bags to find another stone to sharpen his blade with before the thought occurs to you. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, I’d rather not try to sharpen this blade. I don’t know how.” you attempt to hand it back, but he stops you.

“I can show you,” he leaves the unspoken question hanging in the air, watching you with a certain hopefulness in his eyes.

You nod wordlessly, and you hand him the stone, watching him tie his hair up. His brows furrow as he angles the blade, quickly running the stone along its edge. But you can’t focus on the blade – not really – as the firelight illuminates his features, basking them in a soft glow. 

“It’s not that hard – well it won’t be, for someone as experienced as you.” 

You’re grateful for the dim light, or he would’ve seen the blush highlighting your cheeks. 

“You just guide the stone along the edge as usual,” he absently says under his breath, “and use more force here.”

You nod blankly as he turns back to you, handing you the blade and the stone. 

“There you go.” 

You move to grab the handle of the blade, but your finger catches on its edge, drawing blood.

“Shit,” you lick the blood off your finger, wincing slightly as it rapidly flows out. 

“Sorry, I –”

“No, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t careful.” you shake your hand, grimacing at the throbbing pain. 

“Smellerbee, could you fetch the bandages?”

“What? Why me?”

“Just – do it. Please.”

Smellerbee grumbles something under his breath as he leaves.

You nurse your injured finger as it pulsates, face drawn in pain.

“You have a little something –” 

“Huh?” your gaze flickers between him and your finger, unsure of what he means. 

“Here,” his fingers graze your chin as he wipes off blood from your face – from the initial injury, when you tried to lick up the blood from your wound. 

Your face heats up as his touch lingers, skimming across your chin to your cheek. 

He’s utterly captivated, it seems. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

He snatches his hand away with a look of guilt, and you turn away. “Ah. Smellerbee.”

“...I’ll leave the bandages here.”

“Thanks.”

“.........Don’t mention it.”

He bandages your finger with deft movements. Neither of you speak a word, but nothing needs to be said. The tension between you is electric, and any onlooker can tell with a mere glance (especially after Smellerbee went and groaned about the two of you to Pipsqueak and Longshot).

After he bandages your finger, he gets up from his place at the fire. 

“You’re staying the night, right?” 

You nod.

“Smellerbee will show you to your tent.” your disappointment must be visible on your face, because he huffs a laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t. I have duties to attend to. But you’ll be here for breakfast, right?”

You nod. He seemed to have that speechless effect on you.

“Right then, uh, goodnight.” he smiles, appearing to hesitate for a moment before walking off. 

“You guys are gross.” Smellerbee mutters from beside you. 

“What?”

“Gross. Look at what you do to him. And don’t you give me that clueless look or I swear.”

Neither of you could sleep that night.

(but when you woke up there was a bright basket of fresh berries arranged with little flowers throughout it at the door of your tent. You can only wonder who sent it, and why there was a note reading “sorry about your finger, please let me make it up to you.”)

written by @atlaswav, published 3rd of March 2024

[starkeyboy]

men looking to the left>>>

[lilrainbowcloud]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Pairing: Jet x Earth Bender Reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers

Word count: 1.85k [masterlist]

a/n: theres not much fic for him, why? also this is based on dwoht and am currently listening to it rn.

Taking a deep breath, your foot came down on the earth, making four medium sized rocks burst from the ground.

Focusing your energy towards the wooden circular target that was mounted on a tree trunk, you let out the breath you held and along went the rocks, flying towards the target. Transforming into sharp spikes before impaling themselves into the wood.

An annoyed sigh left your lips. Two of them missed, one went into the outer ring and the other one hit the tree trunk above it instead.

"You're getting better."

Shocked, you turned around to see Jet standing a few meters away from you, in his usual armored attire and hair free from a tie. Didn't even realize he was there watching you the whole time. Didn't even hear his footsteps coming.

"No. I don't know. I guess?" Flustered by his presence and comment, you shook your head trying to clear off the thoughts and went to sit on one of the logs. He joined you right after.

"You are though. It's better than last week." He was watching you. You could feel the weight of his gaze but you just couldn't look back at him.

Were you shy? Yes you were.

To be honest, it was kind of random how you two met.

One day you were practicing your bending by the river. Setting up river stones on the big boulders and trying to hit them with your bending. But, to your luck, or unluck, one of the spikes flew straight past the head of Jet as he was walking to the city.

The day you met was the day you almost potentially killed him.

After that, you had joined his little secret club. It was awkward and it still was with him. Was it guilt and embarrassment that held you back from him? But that was months ago. It was something else here.

You just didn't want to admit it.

Your feelings for him, that is, grew over time. With every time you spent with him, with every encouragement he gave you during your practices, he made you feel safe and secure yet there was a wall separating you from him.

It was you who made that wall. He couldn't see it.

"I almost hit pipsqueak last week," a smile formed on your lips as you recalled the memory. In your defense, he was in the way.

That emitted a chuckle out of him. The sound was lovely to your ears. Your smile remained as you stared at the bonfire in the middle of the pit.

"Hey, come on," Standing up, he offered his hand to you.

Humming in confusion, you looked up at him and took his hand regardless.

"Try it on me," He gave you that smile that just tugged at your heartstrings, playing it like a harp. A melodious sound ringing in your ears.

"What? As in, fight you?" You stared at him as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Yeah, fight me." Picking his swords up, he gave them both a swing.

Oh he was serious?

"No, I'm-I'm tired already," Rose bloomed on your cheeks as you once again looked to the ground, avoiding his eyes.

"Aw come on. You've been practicing with non-moving objects," Stepping closer to you, he lowered his voice even though you two were the only one there, "If you're worried about hurting me, don't be."

🗡️🪨🍃

With every hit he blocked, he took a step forward forcing you to take a step back.

It was a sort of dance. Your feet mirroring his. At times you moved forward, he moved back. Neither gaining or losing as it was balanced. He matched your pace well.

The intense look of his eyes made you realize that he was learning your fighting style and movements. The moment it clicked to you that you had been using the same movements too. Smart on him but careless on you.

Your spikes and dics clashed with the sharp blade of his swords. Dust filled the air between you two as the rock burst into tiny pieces.

Pushing your arms forward, your discs flew in random directions towards him at rapid speed, more quicker than you had done before. Adrenaline pumping in your veins, you could hear your heart beating in your ears.

He blocked all of them swiftly, with every hit he moved forward closer to you but this time you didn't step back.

The last one he crossed slash it about one meter away from you. Some of the little rocks landed in your hair.

You were mesmerized by him. His chest rising and falling with every breath matching yours. His hair matted on his forehead. That was the end of that session.

For a moment it felt like time stopped. With only the sound of rustling leaves in the atmosphere, you both stared into each other's eyes. Dropping his swords carelessly on the ground beside him, he stepped towards you.

You've never been left alone with him before. This was a new situation you had to adapt to. But he was Jet. You know him to an extent, he was your friend and you were his. So why is your fight or flight reaction kicking in?

Even then, you stayed glued to your spot.

Lifting his hand, Jet brushed his fingers through your hair, cleaning the debris, "That was really good," As his eyes trained on the rocks in your hair, you had a chance to look into his. A proud smile on his face, "I told you, you're getting better."

Returning his smile, you thanked him. Silence followed as you looked to the ground again. The leaf covered earth was interesting to you out of all things. I don't know, like the boy in front of you that's looking at you with furrowed brows. But you didn't notice that because you were looking to the ground! Look up please!

"Is everything okay?" Concern laced his tone, "You're being very quiet around me lately." His voice low with the last sentence.

Raising your head, you now realize he was so close to you. So close that he was stepping into your personal bubble. You didn't move away so this was a welcomed presence.

Mouth falling agape, your mind raced to find an answer that wouldn't make him feel like you're pushing him away. You... wanted him to stay.

"What do you mean?" Crossing your arm across your torso, you tilted your head with the question.

"Well," It was his turn to avoid your eyes, kicking his shoe into the ground, "I saw you laughing with them and joking around but when you're with me you're, well," Once again he looked at you, "Quiet."

"Why?" Something in the air changed. It weighed heavy on you. Your heart beating irregularly as with that one word he stepped forward closer. The gap between you almost became nonexistent until you moved back.

Dead leaves crunched under your shoes until your back met the trunk of a tree. He saw it before you did and smoothly put his hand on the back of your head, cushioning it from hitting the hard bark. The gap now? Extinct.

To allow some control, you put a hand on his chest. That was the only little space you had left. You could push him away and he knew that. He moved no further into you and you didn't move away.

The answer didn't come sooner. Your tongue wouldn't move as you tried to focus on breathing with his chest nearly meeting yours. You felt his fingers at the back of your head slightly clutching your hair. How are you still standing up, you didn't know.

"You don't like me?" There was no place you could look except his demanding eyes. Trapped in your own world, you didn't realize it was sunset. The golden light reflecting in his iris and hair made a golden halo around him.

"I do," Emphasizing the last word, you cringe internally as it sounded desperate, "I do like you," You repeated softer.

A second passed.

"Then what? Do I make you nervous?" He was teasing you, his tone. Testing your limits, he pressed himself more into you. You allowed it, hand still on his chest.

Before it was just a single rose, now you were sure a garden was blooming on your face. Body temperature rising, you had to control your breath through your mouth. The oxygen wasn't getting to your brain fast enough, you felt light headed. You would've fell if it not for his other hand which you didn't noticed held your waist in place.

You seem to have lost your bearings with him. It was dangerous, being put under a spell that was tearing away at your guard.

"I," Almost biting your tongue to utter that one word, you gulped. Can he just stop? But at the same time you didn't want him to. If only you had the brain functions to respond to him properly.

A little chuckle vibrated his chest, you felt it in the palm of your hand. Thankfully he read your mind, because you wanted this as much as he did.

"You're adorable, you know that?" The hand that was pillowing your head came around your face as he cups your cheek. Thumb swiping over it once before he pulled your face meeting his and your lips connected.

It was soft, his lips. The kiss lasted a moment. Sweet and innocent. Your senses bursting into vibrant colors. Bright ribbons swirling all around your closed eyes. You could feel his smile against your lips as he pulled away first, still keeping close to you.

His arm that was on your waist wrapped itself around you, pulled your body to him.

Sensing you were comfortable and alright with it, the shy smile on your face told him all, he pulled you back in again. Back into a shared realm, where your heart beats in synchronized sequence, bodies fitting each other perfectly.

Looping your arms around his neck, your fingers mindlessly played with the ends of his hair. A soft hum emitted from him which made your body react in a way it never did before. The grip on your waist got tighter. You decided you loved hearing that little sound and the way his hands gripped your body.

It was you who pulled away first, him chasing your lips but you stopped him with a hand on his chest yet again. You were breathless. Looking up to his eyes as he was still trained on your lips, but he respected your wishes even though he was also out of air.

"I like you," You managed in between breaths. Smiling as you did as the relief of the invincible wall crumbled down and vanished between the space of you and him in your spiritual mind.

The space was established. Whatever force that was keeping you away from him had dissolved. Only his gravity now pulled you towards him.

He smiled too, loving the way your body melted into his.

"I like you too."

a/n: a little rusty on the writing after 2 years out of practice man.. i hope this is okay

[alphinias]

if bad, why hot?

[ecnmatic]

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER (2024) Omashu - 1x3 dir. Jabbar Raisani.

[sokkabackbender2021]

zutara this, kataang that, zukka queerbait maybe, WELL WHAT IF JETKO IS CANON IN THE LIVE ACTION?? THOSE TWO HAD THE MOST CHEMISTRY IN THE ORIGINAL SHOW I WANT TO SEE THEM IN LIVE ACTION NOWWW (the actors are also my pookies i’m biased)

[sun-snatcher]

🌾 ・ OF CLARION CALLS

summ. The rebellion runs into trouble, & Jet takes the brunt of it. In the aftermath, you fight to keep him alive. pairing. Jet x f!medic!reader w.count. 1.5k a/n. So little Jet fics/imagines around so i had to take matters into my own hands. Enjoy!

The moonlight casts a halo above your head, and for a brief moment, Jet thinks you’re a divine spirit, perhaps a goddess— or whatever it is his mother used to read to him before bed.

( In some ways, you are. )

…Jet, he hears, distant. He can’t pinpoint exactly where— every sound is either muffled or echoing, and the world keeps tipping in and out of a blur. All he can sense through the haze is the belt of dull pain creeping up his chest, and the cotton-numbness engulfing his head. Right. He’d been shot clean through his armor plate by a wayward arrow after he’d jumped infront of Sneers to protect him. He remembers now, vaguely. It had been an ambush on their way home.

...et, stay with me. 

Jet. 

“Jet!”

The world focuses. He inhales, sharp, and the pain blinds him white as he gasps.

“Easy there, handsome,” you joke (not really), holding his twitching body down and trying to meet his dazed look. The blood is thick enough to taste, and one look is enough to tell he’s walking a tightrope between life or death. He's growing colder, and losing colour by the minute. You make quick work to staunch the gaping wound in his chest, hope he can’t detect the shakiness in your hands, or the tears gathering in your eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Will he?” comes a voice behind the two medics crowding him. It’s Smellerbee, standing at the step of the medical tent; her voice sounds uncharacteristically frightened, and it sends a pang through your heart. I’m fine, Jet instinctively wants to insist, but you answer for him instead. “Yes. He will." ( And, well, surely such a small deception would not count against you, not when it was meant to give the others some measure of peace. )

Jet blinks, finally orienting himself enough to look at you and not through you— and blinks again. You’re lying. He could feel it. He could always tell, whenever it comes to you. 

…Stay, he thinks, suddenly and senselessly, and clasps his bloodied hand around your wrist. He calls your name, voice straining in pain. But he must’ve said it aloud instead, because you’d smiled at him as gently as you could— even when it looked as if the effort of doing so would wound you— and said, calmly, convincingly: I promise, I’m not going anywhere.

“With me?” he asks, again, even when he knows he must’ve sounded like a madman. Perhaps it’s the bloodloss. Likely, it was. It wouldn’t be such a bad end, though, so long as you stood by his side. He wants to tell you this— been wanting to for a long time, now— but the strength has left him, leaving him floating somewhere between the world of waking and dreaming.

“With you,” comes your reply. 

You catch the ghost of his trademark smile just before he slips away.

Jet survives.

That’s the first surprise. 

The second is that; you’re here. Just as you’d promised.

He must have been out for longer than he thinks, because the atmosphere in the medical tent seemed to have ebbed to something much more conducive than last he remembers. The tinctures of alcohol and sedatives surrounding him and his bloody bandages that night are now replaced with dry ingredients; yarrow half-crushed in a mortar and pestle, mixed herbs and colourful liquids corked in tiny bottles and tins he couldn’t begin to name. His armour had been stripped from him, lying above a chest by the corner.

Ever the leader; “Sneers,” is the first word out his mouth, once he’d stirred awake on his cot and recognition returned slowly to him. It’s early sometime in the morning, judging by the colour of the sky outside the tattered tent flaps and the still quietness in the air. Beside him, an incense of sandalwood burns. “Sneers—”

“Is alive, thanks to you,” you override. The faint bitterness in your voice is not lost on him.

Somehow, someway, seeing him conscious now seemed to make you bristle. You think— no, you know— that it’s unfair of you; that it’s simply the pent-up frustrations and stress overflowing from the night he’d been hauled back to camp with one foot in the grave. But Longshot’s harrowing clarion call for a medic from the trees still rings clear as a bell in your head, just as much as the cold shock that had seized you the moment you realised the birdcall was for Jet.

“Good.”

“Not good,” you correct, “Not when you of all people pay the price.”

( Jet doesn’t delude himself into thinking that there could possibly be another meaning to what you said. It would be impossible. ) “You would’ve done the same,” he bites back, and takes your silence as quiet agreement.

“You’re upset,” Jet points out, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

A sigh. “You just woke up,” you dismiss, if only to get him off your scent. “We can talk another day.”

“We’re already here, so let’s settle it now. The mission went well, and as far as I can see, I’m the only one in here, which means nobody else got hurt on the way back but me. Atleast, not as badly.”

It’s a debrief, you recognise. A coping mechanism for him— to spur himself into action and settle himself. Given the stress and trauma his body has been enduring the past days, you let it pass.

It’s only when you shift out from your seat by his cot, standing to begin putting away the bowls of medicine prepared, that Jet realises your fingers had been holding his wrist before. You must have stayed up for, what he can only imagine to be long nights, to keep track on whether his pulse was still beating. ( Something inside his chest burns. He can’t tell if it’s your doing or the injury being fussy. )

“I’m sorry,” he huffs, sighing out. “If that’s what you wanna hear.”

“For what?” You set the mortar down on your table with more force than necessary, and looked at him sharply from over your shoulder. Jet, damn him, still looks at you straight in the eyes, confident as ever. You want to kiss him. You want to break his nose. “For being a hero?”

“No.”

“Playing martyr?”

“No.”

“For saving Sneers? Everyone?”

“No—”

“Then what?”

“For scaring you,” he says, simply.

Your heart starts. 

A frisson runs through you, and you feel the back of your eyes begin to burn.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he emphasises, and doesn’t say, I’m sorry I made you cry, because your prideful self would have denied it instantly, even if he remembers it clear as day. “I’m sorry I put you through that.” 

He yanks at a loose thread on the blanket you’d laid on him a night ago. It must have been terrifying to see him be dragged to the table, half-dead with a broken arrow in his chest, and leave a mess of blood and horror in his wake. It must have been terrifying, indeed, to be the one responsible for him against Death itself— to carry the weight of his life on your shoulders, while the rest of the Freedom Fighters watched on. 

“It’s, it’s my job,” you turn away to close a drawer of medical instruments, because you’re not quite sure you can stand meeting his gaze. Not when it only reminds you of just how much he lived, breathed and bleeds chaos and revolution; not when you know this accident definitely won’t be the last.

You can’t handle him. Or maybe it’s yourself you can’t handle, when it comes to him. “Just, be careful.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he salutes mockingly, albeit with a wince. The flinch is what kicks you back into action.

“You’re staying in bed until you’re better,” you order, curt, ignoring his groan. His wrapped shoulder still seems painfully defiant despite all the numbing you’d given him; it would be a couple of weeks longer before he’d be fully healed, but knowing Jet— he’ll be up performing duties within a week. “That means no strain at all. No scouting or recon or hunting, got it?”

He lulls his head, but there’s a dash of humour on his face. “Since I’m bedridden, does that mean you’re at my every beck and call, then?”

Your face twists. He lets out a laugh when you answer, "In your dreams, Jet."

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

You roll your eyes, though without heat, and place a bowl of fresh water by his side. There is, at the very least, a smile on your face, and Jet’s sure he can sleep well tonight knowing you both are, at the end of the day, okay. 

“Hey,” he calls your name, once you've begun making your way out the tent. You try to ignore how much more sweeter it sounds coming from him. “I really am sorry. I’m serious.”

He had caught your sleeve when he spoke, so your fingers now brush against his. You try not to focus on the touch too much. “So am I.”

“We can’t lose you, Jet,” you continue, unsteady; because saying I can’t lose you would have been unthinkable.

[not-so-rosyyy]

"You comin'?"

S01 x E03 "Omashu" Netflix's Avatar: The Last Airbender ep dir. Jabbar Raisani

[uservaulty]

First Look at ARDEN CHO as June and SEBASTIAN AMORUSO as Jet in

Avatar The Last Airbender Live Action Series (2024)

[s1utlvr]

Free my boys they had the right idea ok????

[natlacentral]

avatarnetflix: Will be talking about the premiere of AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER for the next 100 years.

[favorite-characters]

𝔸𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕒𝕣: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝔸𝕚𝕣𝕓𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣

Sebastian Amoruso as ᴊᴇᴛ (S01.E01-08 • 2024)