STURNIOLO FANFIC ⇢ POST-VIDEOSHOOT DRYHUMPING
sum. matt and y/n, caught in the heat of the "like me" music video shoot, steal a passionate moment in a cramped dressing room.
cw. dryhumping, sexual content, smut, nsfw.
the studio hummed with the aftermath of a long shoot, the air thick with the smell of coffee and warm lights. matt and nick had been at it for hours, filming a music video for a surprise diss track aimed at chris—just a playful jab, something to make their brother laugh. the set was mostly cleared now, the crew on a quick break, nick sprawled in a corner scrolling through his phone, oblivious. the chaos had dialed down, leaving a quiet that felt almost intimate, like the world was holding its breath.
matt didn’t notice the quiet. he couldn’t, not with y/n pressed against him in the tiny dressing room, the door locked, the space so cramped their bodies had nowhere to go but closer. they’d been together for months, the kind of couple that thrived on stolen moments—quick kisses between takes, her hand in his back pocket, his arm slung over her shoulders like it belonged there. but this? this was something else, a desperate edge to their need, the kind that comes when you’ve been teasing each other all day, brushing past, catching eyes, knowing exactly what’s coming.
the dressing room was a mess—makeup brushes scattered on a narrow counter, a chipped mirror reflecting their tangled shapes, a single chair pushed against the wall. y/n was up on the counter, her legs spread, matt slotted between them, his hips grinding into hers with a slow, filthy rhythm that had them both panting. her hands were in his hair, tugging just hard enough to sting, her breath hot against his neck as she arched into him.
“fuck, matt,” she whispered, voice low and ragged, her lips brushing his ear. “you’re gonna ruin me like this.”
he grinned, teeth grazing her jaw, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her tighter against him. “good,” he murmured, voice rough. “been thinking about this all fucking day.” he rolled his hips again, deliberate, the friction of his jeans against her thin leggings sending sparks up his spine. he was hard, achingly so, the bulge in his pants pressing right where she needed it, and the way she gasped told him she felt every inch.
they weren’t new to this—grinding like horny teenagers, stealing moments where they could—but today was different. maybe it was the adrenaline of the shoot, the way y/n had been teasing him all morning, brushing her ass against him when no one was looking, whispering dirty shit in his ear during a lighting reset. whatever it was, it had them both wound tight, ready to snap.
her crop top was rucked up, bunched above her bra, and matt’s hands were everywhere—sliding up her sides, cupping her breasts through the lace, his thumbs brushing her nipples until she moaned, soft but desperate. “you’re such a tease,” she said, but there was no heat in it, just want, her legs hooking around his waist to pull him closer.
“me?” he laughed, low and dirty, his lips trailing down her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. “you’re the one wearing these fucking leggings.” he punctuated it with a harder thrust, his cock straining against his jeans, dragging against her core through the layers of fabric. she was soaked—he could tell, even without touching her, the way her hips bucked, chasing the pressure, her breath hitching every time he hit the right spot.
“shit,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, scratching through his shirt. “matt, faster.” her voice was a plea, and it lit him up, made him grind harder, faster, the counter creaking under her weight. the mirror rattled, reflecting their mess—her flushed cheeks, his dark eyes, the way their bodies moved like they were made for this.
he slid one hand down, gripping her ass, squeezing hard as he pulled her against him, setting a rhythm that was almost brutal. the denim of his jeans was rough, perfect, catching against her leggings just right, and she was falling apart, her moans getting louder, needier. “fuck, you feel so good,” he said, voice low, almost a growl, his forehead pressed against hers. their breaths mingled, quick and shallow, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and her perfume.
“matt—god,” she whimpered, her thighs trembling, her hands clawing at his back like she was trying to climb him. “i’m so close.” her voice cracked, and that sound, that desperate edge, sent a shiver down his spine. he wanted to hear it again, wanted to make her shake, wanted to feel her come undone without even taking their clothes off.
“yeah?” he said, his lips brushing hers, not quite a kiss, just a tease. “come for me, baby. let me feel it.” he ground into her harder, angling his hips to hit her clit through the layers, relentless, his hands keeping her pinned so she couldn’t squirm away. she was panting now, her moans turning to sharp little cries, her body tensing, arching, so close he could almost taste it.
“fuck, fuck, matt—” her orgasm hit like a wave, her body shuddering against him, her nails biting into his skin, her mouth open in a silent scream that turned into a low, broken moan. he felt her hips jerk, her thighs clamping around him, her whole body pulsing as she rode it out, grinding against him like she couldn’t stop. the sight of her—head thrown back, lips red, eyes half-closed—nearly pushed him over the edge.
he wasn’t done, though. he kept moving, slower now, dragging it out, chasing his own release. his cock throbbed, trapped in his jeans, but the friction was enough, her heat against him, the way she was still trembling, still clinging to him. “shit, y/n,” he groaned, his hands tightening on her hips, his thrusts turning sloppy, desperate. “you’re gonna make me lose it.”
“do it,” she whispered, her voice wrecked, her lips brushing his. “want you to.”
that was it. he ground into her one last time, hard, and came with a low, guttural sound, his body shaking as the release hit, hot and overwhelming, his jeans damp where he’d spilled. he buried his face in her neck, breathing hard, her scent grounding him as he came down, their bodies still pressed together, sweaty and spent.
they stayed like that, catching their breath, her hands softening in his hair, his arms loosening around her. the mirror showed them disheveled—her top still pushed up, his shirt wrinkled, both of them flushed and grinning like idiots.
“we’re a fucking mess,” y/n said, her voice hoarse, a laugh bubbling up as she fixed her bra, tugging her top down.
“worth it,” matt said, stealing a quick kiss, his lips lingering on hers, soft and lazy now. “always worth it.”
she smirked, hopping off the counter, her legs a little shaky as she smoothed her leggings. “you’re gonna have to act normal out there,” she said, nodding at the door. “nick’s gonna know something’s up.”
“let him,” matt said, adjusting his jeans, still buzzing, still half-hard just looking at her. “he’ll get over it.”
y/n laughed, low and teasing, as she unlocked the door. “round two tonight?” she asked, glancing back, her eyes glinting.
“count on it,” he said, and followed her out, the studio lights bright, the crew filtering back, the world snapping back into place; but the heat between them? that wasn’t going anywhere.
©pokesturns any and all forms of modifications, reposts, and translation of my work are prohibited.
