plz they argue abt it all the time and one night frank fucks you n afterwards you’re so weak n shaky that he has to carry you to the bathroom. he shoots matt a shit eating grin n taunts “correct me if i’m wrong, red, but doesn’t she usually get right back on her feet when you’re done with ‘er?”

or or frank fucks you so hard that literally all you can say are slurs of “yessir” and frank smirks and pats your cheek and assures matt. “There you go, man. Won’t be hearin’ any backtalk for a while. You’re welcome.”

sorry im jumping on this bandwagon hard rn u write him so juicy

GILLI THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVERRRR

he walks into the apartment to you riding matt on the couch n you look up and smile at him so sweet and happy to see him "hi"

frank drops his bag and walks up behind the ouch to grab at your jaw and drop a kiss on your spitty lips. when he pulls away he examines your face, tilting it left n right "you fucking her n she still talking?" pats matt on the shoulder and smirks when the younger man shakes his touch off with a huff. "you losing your touch, red?"

he starts walking down the hall toward the bedroom n calls over his shoulder "come find me when you're done, doll. I'll give you a good fucking."

+ alternatively;;;;; matt against the headboard jerking off to the way frank is drilling into you from behind. frank pulls at your hair with one hand n the other cradles your jaw pointing your wet face at matt. "tell him who fucks you best,, honey. go on, you won't hurt his feelings, ain't that right, red?"

You’re in the kitchen trying to decide what to bake. You’re between blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies, both delicious you just can’t seem to choose.

“Matty?” You call, staring at your ingredients like they’ll jump out at you.

“Sweetheart?” He’s home today, the one day that’s just for you and him- Sunday.

If he thinks about it too hard, the Catholic guilt will eat at him, but Sundays are your days.

“Would you prefer blueberry muffins or chocolate chip cookies? I can’t decide.”

He comes up behind you, smelling as he usually does; whiskey and vetiver, warm and inky. His arms wrap around your waist as he hums.

“The muffins,” he says thoughtfully, kissing the groove between your neck and shoulder. “We haven’t had those for a while.”

You smile, leaning back to kiss the hinge of his jaw; “Thanks Matt.”

He doesn’t leave you as you weigh the ingredients, no. Matt stays glued to you the entire time. He doesn’t make it easy to work either, he’s leaning all of his weight on you, kissing your cheek and squeezing your hips.

“Matthew!” You giggle and he laughs. “Ten minutes and then I’m all yours, you clinger.”

He laughs, “I’m not a clinger,” you scoff as you mix the blueberries in the batter. “Can’t a man love on his girl?”

You know Matt knows your heart skips a beat at his words. “You can love on me after I put these in the oven.”

Matt sighs all dramatic like and takes two steps away from you as you scoop the batter in the muffin cups, apply the streusel top and slide them in the oven.

He wastes no time in pulling you close to him after you set a timer. “All mine now,” you giggle as he kisses all over your face.

“You’re like a caveman.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he hauls you to the living room, kisses smattered to every part of you he can reach.