is anyone watching? — matt sturniolo
warnings: SMUT, male masturbation, public setting, sexual thoughts of an ex/pining over his last relationship, releasing in pants 😳. okay wait sad themes actually, AND ANGST??
a/n: don’t get too excited guys i just saw this photo in my camera roll when clearing it out and i thought “you know what, i’ll finally write the idea before deleting this”. i’m SO terribly sorry i haven’t posted, i’ve unfortunately lost interest in watching the sturniolos 💔 hope you enjoy ahaha… i’m highkey just coming up with it as i write it (can you tell by the warnings)
ALSOO this makeup reminds me of the clowns from the circus tour (please tell me you guys know the band “take that”) and when they put on the clown makeup to “what is love”
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“the park would be nice,” he thought earlier on. he needed to clear his head of you.
he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. he doesn’t know why he’s back to thinking of you again. of what you two could’ve been. maybe it’s his missed call, or maybe it’s the wet dream he had last night.
and he only now thinks, as he sits on the park bench with the laughter of children from afar, that bringing himself to one of your old favourite spots to watch the sunrise on cold mornings, to feed the hungry birds and to pluck a fresh flower from the field wasn’t the best distraction. deep down he knew that his heart led him here just to drown in you. to listen to the birds who sing your songs. to remember that you wanted two kids and a cottage-like kitchen.
he feels a dull ache. it’s not too specific, it could be his heart? but it’s when he can see your smile in his mind that dull ache heightens. when your lips touch his and your hands rub his skin, or you’re taking off your clothes for him, all for him, and that’s when the throb strikes again from his cock.
that’s when he starts thinking of what he can do. he’s never seen someone jerk off to someone else in such an emotional way, let alone in public. isn’t it disgusting to picture your smile and innocence when pumping his cock with his fist?
his hand has already slipped under the black denim of his jeans. he’s just barely grazing his tip with his finger, being ever so delicate as if it were your hand instead.
he swallows at the people in the distance walking past. all he could see was their walking figures, but they could approach him at any time, and he doesn’t know if he’d be able to stop when he’s oh so close to spilling.
he hears your soft tone in his ear as a guide, he can almost feel your breath too. “i love you so much. you can do this-“ your lulling tone keeps him in a trance. he feels locked away from the world around him in the best way possible.
but his thoughts are rushing. he feels love, hate for himself, guilt, lust, desperation, and guilt. your sweet nothings shift to fit his darkened thoughts. your words become bitter by the second, and the closer he gets to letting go.
“oh, are you gonna cum? yeah…you got this baby. let go. throw away the kids we could’ve had and the life we could’ve spent together.” his breath stops in shock, but he’s so fucking close. his eyes begin to water at the overwhelming senses.
“no- no no no… i’m so sorry baby- fuck- i’m so fucking sorry i’ll stop right n-“
“don’t stop. drag your hand up your dick. i’d love to see your cum spill.” he whimpers at your words. what he’d envisioned had twisted into something evil. something manipulative. something just to make him feel like his life is over.
he can’t speak. he can’t swallow. he tries. he can only whimper. it’s so real that he can no longer convince himself that you’re not actually there. when your hand grabs his face and pulls it to yours as you speak.
“let go baby- let it all go. all your stresses, all your worries, i still have mine. from the day you left me, to the day i left this place. do you even know where i am?” he interrupts your words of shame with a groan full of everything he’s got left in him, his hot semen spilling into his briefs and through to his jeans. he pants. he looks to the spot next to him on the bench, but there’s no trace of you.
he’d been seeing someone recently about the frequent visions of you after your passing, but none of which he’d had before had ever felt so real. in fact, it wasn’t even fake. he knows that you were there, in some way, when his hand feels a warmth on the spot next to his, as if he was never alone on this bench.
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a/n: i just realised this is the first time i’m posting a fic with a taglist more than 3 people
@courta13 @rainyyy-weather @elliesturnx @whore4chris @pepsipoet @chrisssiren
