happy pride to everyone in the community!! happy pride to those who are out, those who are not, those who aren’t sure of their identity yet, those who don’t use labels, those who don’t feel seen, etc, etc. stay safe and don’t be ashamed to be yourself.
summary: matty gets a little too excited while making out with you at a house party.
tags: dlid!era matty. (all parties are above the age of eighteen.) 18+ SMUT. established relationship. making out. dry humping. cumming in pants. exhibitionism if you squint. weed consumption. references to alcohol consumption.
word count: 1578
You’re at a house party, but you’re way too stoned to remember who the host is. You think it might be the brother of whatever girl Ross is shagging at the moment or something along those lines, but it hardly matters — you and Matty would have shown up regardless of who was hosting. Your boyfriend’s never needed an excuse to attend a good party, and you’ve never needed an excuse to spend a Friday night getting fucked up with him.
Besides, the steady thrum of house music had faded into the background long ago, replaced by the gentle splashing sounds of a backyard pool. It was really only a matter of time before you and Matty found yourselves out here, far away from the noise and the relentless mess of bodies and heat trapped inside. Whoever’s house this is, they’re rich enough to have a deck and a pool, which is something that you two are taking full advantage of. The space provides much-needed privacy and, as it turns out, doubles as a perfect smoking spot.
At least, you two had come out here with the intention of smoking. But that only lasted about ten minutes — just long enough for you both to get a little spacey — before you decided that making out was a far better way to pass the time.
The spliff sits off to the side, having burned out long ago. Matty’s sprawled across one of the poolside loungers, hands gripping your waist as you straddle him. Your own hands have found their way to his jaw, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him deeply. Everything’s gone hazy, thanks to the weed, and sensations blend together as you lose yourself in his lips and tongue.
Matty’s warm and pliant under your fingertips, all soft skin and eager touches. The two of you are in no rush, basking in the laziness of the moment. Matty kisses like he’s trying to melt into you, as though tasting your lips is infinitely more important to him than getting air into his lungs. Your boyfriend’s always been needy, but something about tonight has him extra hungry for you.
You can’t help but giggle as Matty’s large hands suddenly tug you forward, pulling your hips flush with his own. He grinds against you lazily, just enough for you to feel his growing hard-on through his jeans and the way his fingers tighten against your skin as he grinds against your clothed core.
“Matty.” You pull away from the kiss, though you don’t go very far — his breath is still warm on your cheek. “We’re at a party.”
He laughs at your words, looking at you with a lopsided smirk that tells you all you need to know.
“Never stopped us before,” he counters, as though he’s confused about why you’re choosing now to be worried about public decency. “S’just us, love. Might as well feel good, yeah?”
He’s not wrong. And you would have told him as much, if it wasn’t for the fact that Matty’s lips immediately press into the spot on the side of your neck that drives you crazy, and you swear you feel his teeth drag along your earlobe as he rolls his hips against yours once more. The sensation makes your eyes flutter shut, and your head tilt back, which Matty takes as an invitation to start sucking a mark into the newly exposed skin. You whine softly, hands dropping down to hold onto his shoulders. It’s partially to keep him in place, but it’s mostly so that you have an anchor — you feel as though you could float away at any second if you’re not careful.
The next time Matty grinds against you, you respond, rolling your hips experimentally. You gasp into the cool night air as the seam of your boyfriend’s jeans catches against your clit deliciously, making your toes curl in your shoes.
“Oh fuck.” Matty’s voice comes in the form of a broken whine against your neck. “Do that again.”
So, you do, beginning to rock your hips against his in a slow, steady rhythm. Each time you move in his lap, you can feel the bulge in his jeans steadily pressing against your pussy, making your brain swim with pleasure. You don’t think this really counts as making out anymore, not with the two of you basically dry humping, but it feels so good you can’t bring yourself to care, and any concerns of public decency fade away into the back vault of your brain, long forgotten.
The weed heightens everything, making you even more sensitive. Every drag of clothing against your skin and every press of Matty’s lips against your own makes you feel like you’re on fire in the best way. Judging by the soft little groans slipping past Matty’s lips and the way he’s grabbing you like he’s afraid of you slipping away, he’s on a similar plane of existence and enjoying every second of it.
“Just like that, baby, fuckin’ hell,” Matty pants against your lips, breathless. “Feels s’good. Wish we weren’t stuck here so I could fuck you properly.”
His words make you clench around nothing and quicken your movements. You’re essentially dry-fucking him now, mimicking exactly how you’d ride him if you weren’t stuck at this party.
“Later,” you promise, and Matty’s lips curl into a tiger-like grin against your own, before whatever comeback he was going to say gets cut off by a deep throaty noise.
You feel it before you see it. Matty twitches beneath you, thigh muscles becoming taut and rigid. His fingers tighten around your ass with a bruising desperation, keeping you pressed against him and providing him with the friction he’s chasing.
A second later, you watch your boyfriend’s lips part, and his head falls back, hitting the hard plastic of the lounge chair with far too much force to be comfortable. It’s a sight you know well… and a sight that tells you exactly what just happened.
You stare at him for a few beats, watching as his chest rises and falls almost hypnotically. Matty’s eyes are glazed and unfocused as he basks in the high of his release. He’s gone.
“Did you just..?”
Matty doesn’t need to reply — you already know the answer. Even with the faint glow of a deck lantern serving as your only source of light, you can see that your boyfriend’s face is bright red. Curiously, you reach down between your two bodies and watch as Matty jumps when your hand brushes against his crotch. He whines again, suddenly overstimulated, and you slowly remove your hand, not wanting to make things worse for him.
You’re flattered, honestly, though you’re not sure if you’re just that hot or if the weed is just that good… probably a combination of both. Either way, the result is the same — your boyfriend just came in his pants like he was back in secondary school.
“Oh God…” Matty finally groans, embarrassed. He’s doing everything but meeting your gaze, all that brazen teenage sexuality long gone, crushed by the weight of his own mortification. “‘M sorry, I don’t know what happened, must’ve been… fuck.”
He tries to cover his face with his hands, but is quickly intercepted by you leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his nose, which, of course, only causes Matty to grow even redder.
“It’s cute.”
“S’not,” he protests. “It’s embarrassing. Haven’t done that shit in ages.”
“You mean… I’m not your first?” you ask, scandalized. “Matthew. I thought we had something special.”
“Oh… shut up.”
No matter how disgruntled he sounds, your boyfriend can’t entirely hide the small smile that he’s trying so hard to fight off. You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin feels electrified beneath your touch.
“It’s okay, baby,” you say softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can head home.”
Never mind the fact that neither of you is in any state to drive – you’re sure there’s someone at this party who would be willing to give the two of you a ride. (Ideally, Ross, if you can pull him off of that brunette for long enough.)
But to your surprise, Matty shakes his head and timidly gestures down to the wet patch on the front of his dark jeans. It’s small, barely noticeable unless you’re really looking for it, but it’s clearly enough for him to be worried.
“You’re fine, baby,” you reassure him. “Everyone’s too pissed to notice. Unless they’re already looking down there, which they’d better not be.” You furrow your brows in a mock display of anger, hoping it will make him grin. He does, albeit ever so slightly. “‘Cause otherwise they’ll have me to answer to.”
“Ugh, fine.” Matty rolls his eyes, throwing his head back dramatically. “At least let me make it up to you when we get home.”
“And what exactly does that entail?”
“Mm…” He pauses, as though he doesn’t already know exactly what he’s going to say. “Let me tongue-fuck you ‘til you’re begging f’me to stop?”
“Jesus Christ, Matty.” Your boyfriend has a way with words that you don’t think you’ll ever fully get used to, no matter how long the two of you are together. You clear your throat, now painfully aware of the warm flush spreading across your own face. “Okay, yeah. Sure. You can do that.”
Matty’s face lights up like he’s a kid on Christmas morning. “Wicked.”
time for my annual post questioning Why The Fuck the 1975 aren't doing soccer aid. although ross kinda answered that for matty in that one interview ig. anyway! ross. george. adam. get the kit on lads
wait why don’t we like Gracie? Idk anything about her so genuinely not trying to start drama I’m just asking in general. Is it nepo baby stuff or something else?
no i just think she's musically a bit of a nothing burger i fear. but actually come to think of it her dad did fuck up star wars big-time so the disdain (it's not even hate i don't care enough to hate) is generational in a way lmfao
writing some bday party fluff to ease myself back into it all (they're my favourites Soz if you can't relate) BUT, and i cannot believe i'm about to say this, i am opening requests up also so i have stuff to work on after that. it might take a min for me to get to it, but feel free to send things in regardless <3
due to the hot weather i received like three asks about if i could write about spending it with ross so here we are:
today is unbearable. it’s so hot you can’t remember a day where it’s been like this.
ross has been outside since noon.
flat on one of the loungers by the pool, sunglasses low on his nose, one arm thrown over his stomach.
you’d gone inside ten minutes ago because the heat was beginning to make you feel delirious. the kitchen tiles had been cool beneath your feet while you threw together something vaguely cocktail-adjacent with whatever fruit was dying in the fridge.
when you come back outside, condensation slips down the side of the glass.
“thought you’d melted,” ross says without opening his eyes.
“nearly did.”
he hums as you press the drink into his hand. “cheers, darling.”
you grin a little to yourself and turn to head back toward your own chair, when he stops you.
“christ.”
you glance over your shoulder.
ross has pushed his sunglasses up now, squinting at you properly.
“how’d you manage to get burned this fast?” he asks. “come here a second.”
“i’m not burned.”
“your back’s gone fully red.”
“red is gonna turn into brown eventually,” you say as you try to convince yourself.
you wander over anyway. the paving stones are warm under your feet.
ross pats the space between his legs lazily. “sit down.”
you lower yourself carefully with your back against his chest, your legs stretching out between his. his skin’s hot from the sun, properly warm everywhere your arms brush his.
behind you, there’s the crack of a bottle cap.
“god,” he mutters, squeezing sun cream into his palm, “you’re gonna whine tonight.”
you turn your head immediately, grinning.
ross pauses.
then he lets out a laugh under his breath, head dropping back slightly.
“not like that.”
“didn’t say anything.”
“didn’t have to. filthy look on your face said enough.”
his hands smooth cool lotion across your shoulders before you can reply. you sigh despite yourself, leaning back into him.
“ow,” you mumble dramatically. “gentle.”
“i am being gentle.”
“you’ve got bass hands.”
he laughs, “what does that even mean?”
“good with your fingers but so rough with your palm,” you groan.
ross laughs again, low in his chest this time. “alright, sorry. i’ll try to be even more gentle.”
you hum.
his fingers drag slowly down your back, rubbing the cream into the spots that sting worst from the sun. you rest your hands around his shins absentmindedly, thumbs brushing over warm skin.
“your legs are so tan,” you mumble. “don’t know how you do it.”
ross shrugs behind you, “don’t know either.”
“hate you a bit for it,” you joke.
“you tan eventually.”
“it takes ages though,” you argue, “and i think we both know it’s gonna rain again soon.”
“probably.” his chin hooks briefly over your shoulder while he works the cream into the small of your back. you can smell chlorine and sun cream and the citrus from his drink all mixed together.
it’s stupidly nice.
the sort of afternoon that feels slow around the edges.
ross taps your side lightly. “lift your hair up.”
you gather it over one shoulder and feel his hands smooth another layer across the back of your neck.
“honestly,” he says, “an hour outside and you’ve packed it in.”
“english sun hits different.”
“that’s because nobody here knows how to behave when it appears.”
you grin.
ross finishes rubbing the cream in, then rests his hands briefly on your waist.
“there,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into the space between your shoulder and neck. soft. absent-minded. “let’s hope this doesn’t get worse.”
you tilt your head slightly at the feeling, smiling before you can stop yourself.
“thanks, nurse.”
“don’t mention it.”
“will you carry me inside later when i inevitably succumb to heatstroke?”
he shakes his head, “absolutely not.”
“ross,” you squint your eyes at him.
“i’ll drag you by the ankles, maybe.”
you laugh quietly, leaning back against him more fully.
he reaches for his drink again with one hand, the other settling lazily across your stomach.
“this is very nice,” he hums taking a sip, “lovely day.”
ross stays exactly where he is after that, all lazy and warm behind you.
one of his hands rests low on your stomach while the other drifts up through your hair absentmindedly, combing through the strands slowly enough that it nearly puts you to sleep.
this is so cozy. bees are somewhere in the flowers. water shifting gently against the edge of the pool. ross humming under his breath to whatever song he’s been listening to.
you melt further against him.
his lips brush the top of your head once.
“you’re very clingy today,” he murmurs.
“too hot to function properly.”
“ah alright,” he smiles.
ross chuckles softly behind you, fingers scratching lightly against your scalp in a way that makes your eyes flutter shut for a second.
god, you could probably fall asleep right there.
instead, after another quiet minute, you mumble, “god, i love you.”
he squeezes your waist gently.
“yeah?”
“mhm.” you tilt your head back against his shoulder. “i love how hot you are right now but it’s literally too hot. think i’m dying a bit.”
ross laughs immediately.
“bit contradictory, that.”
“you know what i mean.”
“do i though?” he laughs but squeezes your waist again.
you groan quietly. “ross.”
his grin presses briefly against your temple.
“dramatic thing.”
you turn your face enough to kiss somewhere near his jaw before sighing dramatically again. “i need to cool off in the pool.”
“good shout,” he says, sitting up slightly. “i’ll join you.”
you untangle yourself from him slowly, already feeling the heat hit your skin again the second you stand.
“race you,” you say.
“absolutely not,” ross replies. “it’s thirty degrees. i’ll die.”
you’re already halfway to the pool anyway.
the water hits your legs first, cool enough to make you inhale sharply, before you lower yourself all the way in with a relieved sound.
“oh my god,” you groan.
ross snorts from behind you.
“that nice?”
“i’m never getting out.”
you splash water vaguely in his direction just as he steps down onto the ledge.
sunlight catches on the water around him. damp curls already starting at the base of his neck from the heat. stupidly unfair-looking even now.
“don’t pose,” you accuse.
“wasn’t posing.”
“you were.”
“how?!” he raises his arms.
before you can answer, ross dives cleanly beneath the surface.
you barely have time to react before something grabs your hips underwater.
you shriek immediately as ross resurfaces with a grin, lifting you clean off your feet for a second.
“ross-“
you burst out laughing while he steadies you against him.
“you should’ve seen your face.”
“do not get my hair wet!” you say.
“i didn’t,” he looks at your hair to check, “don’t want to get into trouble.”
water drips from his hair into his eyes while he laughs, and you brush it back automatically before he can shake it everywhere like a wet dog.
“behave,” you mumble.
“can’t. holiday rules.”
“that’s not a thing.”
“is now.”
eventually he settles himself on the pool ledge where the water reaches just above his waist, tugging you easily between his legs again like it’s instinctive.
you rest against him without thinking.
arms winding around his shoulders. his hands settling comfortably at your hips under the water.
the sun warms your face while the cool water laps softly around you both. somewhere beyond the fence, people are cheering over something.
ross presses a slow kiss against your mouth.
another against the corner of it.
you close your eyes afterward, forehead resting against his.
comfortable.
his thumb rubs absentminded circles against your side beneath the water.
“could have so many days like this, darling,” he murmurs eventually. “just us being lazy in the heat.”
you smile without opening your eyes.
“with cocktails?”
“obviously.”
ross huffs a laugh softly through his nose.
then he kisses you again, slower this time, sun warm across both your skin while the water moves gently around you.
his arms around you. your cheek damp against his shoulder. sunlight turning everything gold behind your closed eyelids.
ross keeps drawing shapes against your hip underwater absentmindedly.
you tilt your head just enough to look at him properly.
wet hair pushed back. cheeks flushed faintly pink from the heat. stupid soft smile sitting on his mouth.
he catches you staring almost immediately.
“what?”
“nothing, just thinking you look fit.”
ross snorts quietly but doesn’t say anything.
his grin spreads lazily before his gaze drifts somewhere past you, toward the bright blue sky above the garden fence.
for a second he goes thoughtful.
then, “i can see us moving somewhere sunny one day, definitely europe, maybe italy?”
you blink, “yes?”
“mhm.” his thumb strokes slowly along your side. “somewhere where days like this aren’t rare.”
your eyes widen immediately.
“ross.” you pout.
“what?”
you smile so hard your cheeks ache. “that’d be dreamy.”
he smiles back at you then, “wouldn’t it?”
you shift closer automatically, your legs tangling with his beneath the water.
“life would feel like one big holiday.”
“absolutely,” he says easily. “at least until we’ve got kids running around screaming by the pool.”
you stare at him for half a second.
then lean forward and kiss him immediately.
ross laughs softly into it, hands tightening at your waist.
when you pull back, you grin. “don’t get me excited now.”
“excited?”
“little house somewhere hot?” you mumble. “you in linen shirts? little babies with your curls? that’s dangerous.
ross actually looks a bit flustered at that, which only makes you grin wider.
“linen shirts?” he repeats.
“focus on the important part, ross.”
he shakes his head, smiling against your mouth again before kissing you once.
“you’d spoil the kids rotten.” he says.
“absolutely.”
“they’d wrap you round their fingers instantly,” he says while tucking your hair behind your ear.
you beam triumphantly.
“well we’re still in england for now,” he says. “not to ruin anything.”
you groan and try to untangle your legs to go for a swim.
he pulls you back against him before you can, arms locking around your waist while you laugh helplessly.
“s’alright,” he murmurs against your damp temple. “we’ll get there eventually.”
“promise?”
“promise.”
and somehow, with the sun warming your skin and ross smiling against your hair, it feels easy to believe him.
