#johndo

But the grounds here are beautiful, the inside of the castle is filled with gorgeous architecture and rich history. All of it lets your imagination flourish, and as you twine your fingers through Doyoung’s, you can’t help imagining what it would be like to live in a castle. 

“Shall we buy one for you?” Doyoung asks, lips to your ear. “If Johnny and I pool our money, I’m sure we could afford you at least a small European castle in decent condition.”

Honestly, you can’t tell if he’s joking or not, considering how much your boyfriends tend to spoil you. 

But for the moment, you’re content to sit here with one of your boyfriends, gazing out at the water, a hot coffee in hand from a cute cafe in town. 

“I’m not ready to leave,” you tell him after a moment. “I’ve been having fun here, exploring all of these new places.”

While Doyoung has been busy recording the past couple days, you’ve explored Stockholm. You’ve also quite loaded up on souvenirs and Christmas gifts. You’ve tried new foods and sampled new pastries you’d never heard of before. You’ve explored museums, checked out the lovely subway art, walked the streets just to see the architecture of the city which is so different from what you see in Seoul. Sometimes you had Doyoung with you, a couple times a staff member named Ara came along with you, but mostly you’ve been on your own. 

At the present moment though, you’re happy to be here with Doyoung. For the moment, the vlogging camera he’s been using all day to film the trip to Mariefred, while exploring the town and the castle, is down in his lap, and Doyoung just has his face tilted back, tipped towards the warm sunlight. 

“So is this something you really think you’d like to do?” Doyoung asks you, “You want to travel?”

Yes. More than anything. 

“Maybe I should write for a travel magazine or something,” you say, “A travel blog? Something in some capacity at a travel agency.” 

“The company could hire you on as a travel staff, like someone who handles the finer details of international travel. An advisor or coordinator. Someone in charge of the visas, passports, permits, travel plans and reservations.” Doyoung draws you in a little closer as he says, “ Not just for Johnny and I, but for any of the artists. There are a few on staff, and one always has to come on any official international trip with us.”**

“Is that what Ara does?” You ask, referring to the staff that has come out with you a couple times on your excursions the past couple days. She seemed knowledgeable about the city, about how long it would take for you to take the ferry out to one of the islands in the archipelago when you’d mentioned wanting to go there. She actually rode along today, but she stayed in Mariefred while you and Doyoung walked over to the castle. 

Doyoung nods. “She pretty much has free rein to explore while we’re in whatever location. But she makes dinner reservations, organizes transportation. She basically is a manager, but manages plans rather than, like, our manager hyung who manages people.”

You look away from your boyfriend’s handsome face, gazing back out at the sunlight shimmering off the surface of the lake. “Do you really think they’d hire me? I have no experience in the field, and I’m dating two of their artists. Would that be a conflict of interest?”

“You can job shadow for a bit.” Doyoung stands, stretching his arms over his head. “Luckily for you, you’ve got two boyfriends who can pull some strings for you to job shadow Ara or any of the others. After that, it’s up to you if you want to try for the job.”

The light hits Doyoung just right then, and you take up your phone to snap a photo of him. A precious moment to treasure from this trip. 

Again, the return to Seoul wears you down. 

On the one hand, it’s nice to be home. It’s nice to have the creature comforts of your own bed and your own shower, your favorite take out place just around the corner. It’s really nice to have Johnny who wraps you and Doyoung tightly in his arms, showering you in kisses, and quickly whisking you both off to bed. 

On the other hand, now more than ever, going back into your job in the cafe is difficult. You’re more than over this part of your life. But you hang in there for the first few days after your return. Lia makes it bearable, and she feeds your ego a bit as she keeps asking you to talk about your time in Sweden, milking you for every detail. 

It’s a little over a week after your return when everything finally crumbles. 

The weather has taken a sudden downturn. Thick gray clouds, an ever present mist, cold and sharp wind that whips through the streets. Horrible weather like this always draws the customers in in droves, and you’re busy from the moment the cafe opens until forty-five minutes after you were meant to leave that afternoon. It’s only when your boss (who has also been working her ass off behind the coffee bar today, for once) realizes you’re still there that she makes you leave. 

You’re tired. Your feet hurt, you’ve not eaten more than a tiny piece of a pastry you shoved in your face when you were grabbing stuff to restock from the back. You’ve spilled more hot coffee on yourself today than you ever have before. You’ve dealt with so many rude and irrationally irate customers who have just bludgeoned your self-worth. You’re over it today, and if your boss wasn’t still busy out front, getting slammed with the constant influx of customers, you would pull her aside and tell her that you’re quitting. 

But she’s busy, and you just want to get home and get off your feet, so you leave. 

Your empty apartment is calling your name today. It’s drastically closer to you than Johnny and Doyoung’s apartment is. It’s got a bed and a hot shower, and you think that there’s probably some sort of nonperishable food there for you to heat and inhale before you sleep. 

The wind buffets you, beating your already tired ass on your entire walk back to your apartment. By the time you reach your building, you’ve added cold and disgustingly damp to your list of complaints for the day. 

You walk up the flights of stairs to reach your apartment, fumble with the key in the lock, jam your shoulder against the door to get it open, and you flip on the lights. 

And nothing happens. 

You throw your purse to the floor, aggressively kick off your shoes, slam the door behind you. You flip the switch several times to no avail. The overhead light remains unlit, so you tromp over to your bedroom to check the light there, prepared to have a full blown meltdown if it doesn’t turn on either because you know that you’ve been paying your bills for this place still. 

The lamp beside your bed flicks on; and a bit of your anger deflates. 

But only a little bit. 

Because as the light in your bedroom comes on, you see a stain spreading across the ceiling in the corner of the room. A water stain from what is most certainly a leak from your upstairs neighbor. 

You can’t and don’t want to deal with that right now, so you walk back into the main room to fetch up your purse, and that’s when you see a notice that’s been shoved beneath your door by apartment management at some point. 

Wind whistles against the windows. Somewhere you can hear your neighbors talking, a baby crying. And you hold a notice of a rent hike for this piece of shit apartment. 

You crush the paper in your hands and toss it towards the trash. 

You’re done for the day. Absolutely done. You’re going to shower and just crawl into bed. Forget eating, you don’t feel like even warming anything up. 

At least the hot water is hot for your shower. Steam clouds the air, blurring the mirror and muffling all the sounds of the world. You soak in the heat beneath the shower’s spray, letting it roll over your shoulders, down your legs, letting it drum against your lower back and your belly which both have the tender ache that’s a precursor to your period starting in a day or two. 

You take your time beneath the warm downpour, massaging your fingers over your scalp to ease the stress headache that’s begun pinching between your eyes. 

The towel you wrap around you is warm but scratchier than what you’ve grown used to at Doyoung and Johnny’s place. This is a cheap towel whereas theirs are like fancy schmancy thick and soft towels sent by some brand deal. You walk to your bed and just fall atop it, not bothering to dress, not bothering to even look at that fucking new water stain. You simply close your eyes and let sleep overtake you. 

The light coming through your window when you wake is dim, just street light reflected down the space between your building and the neighboring one. It’s night, and a bit of squinting at the digital clock on your bedside table reveals that it’s about 9pm. 

You slept nearly 6 hours. 

Your headache is gone though, and your body doesn’t feel as sore. Though your abdomen, lower back, and boobs have that tenderness that makes you dread the cramps that will plague you within the next few days. And your stomach growls, tired of begging for food, it now demands it. 

Your hair has dried, so you quickly tame it into something manageable to keep it out of your face. You change out of the towel and into a shirt of Doyoung’s that you’d forgotten you even had. 

There are in fact a few packs of instant ramen in a kitchen cabinet, so that’s what you prepare yourself for dinner. 

While that’s preparing, you find your phone. 

You have a few texts from Lia, several from a group chat with your other friends. You have a missed call from Johnny. A couple texts from him. A few from Doyoung. Neither of them used your groupchat. 

You read Lia’s first. Hers are complaining about how today went, and how it was kinda her final straw. She’s sent a few screenshots of jobs online that she’s putting in applications for. 

The group chat with your friends is just the girls messaging about the baby of one of the girls being cute. Someone suggests everyone get together again soon; it's been a while since you’ve gotten together. 

The texts from Johnny are short: “I need to talk to you” and “where are you?”

Then Doyoung’s: “what time are you coming home?” and “I’m making us something special for dinner that I think you and Johnny will like!” and “do you think you could stop by the market on your way over? I need some green onions and some peppers for dinner, and Johnny’s being an ass about it.” Then finally, “Pleeeeeeaaaasssseeeee” with a few heart emojis. A series of question marks. A short “where are you?” then “hello?”

That most recent message was from about an hour ago. As you’re looking at your phone, about to respond to him, your phone buzzes with a new text from Johnny. 

“Are you at your place?” Is all his message reads. 

You call him because it’ll be faster than messaging back. As soon as you hear him pick up, you say, “I’m sorry, I had a rough day at work, and I just came by my place because I was so tired. I fell asleep, but I’m up now, and I can come over for Doyoungie’s dinner, if it’s not too late.”

Johnny makes a soft, indecipherable noise. “I’m, uh, actually outside your place. Can I come in?”

You fly across the room and pull open the door. 

Johnny is huddled outside the door, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up to hide his face from the cool air and from prying eyes. 

As soon as the door is opened wide enough, Johnny slides inside, wrapping his arms around you and dragging you in against his chest. 

You hold him, and Johnny tucks his face against your shoulder, folding himself smaller to fit easily within your arms. With your arms braced against Johnny’s back, with his warm breath against your neck, you don’t think he’s ever felt so small to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, and you can feel the weight of Johnny leaning on you. He trembles, and that just about breaks you apart. 

Johnny has always been so big and strong, brave and loud and bright. But right now, he’s none of those things. He’s shrunken himself to fit in your arms, quietly holding you closer, and when you hear a sniffle and feel the first strike of a hot tear soak against your shoulder, your heart begins to race. 

“Johnny?” A slight tinge of panic colors your voice. You’ve never seen him cry. “What’s wrong?”

You pull him towards the sofa, and Johnny curls himself against you. You put a hand against his head, trying to soothe him with your fingers passing through his hair. He clutches at your shirt. 

“You’re scaring me,” you admit aloud to him, “I’ve never seen you like this, Johnny. What’s wrong?”

Doyoung. Where is Doyoung? Is something wrong, did something happen to him?

“We fought,” Johnny finally manages. “Doyoungie and I got into a fight. We never fight. And it was over something so stupid. But it got bad and he told me to leave.”

You hold him, letting Johnny just slot himself against you. His breath is hot and damp on your neck. Tears have dampened the shoulder of your shirt. 

“It’ll be okay. Couples fight.” You brush a kiss to the top of your boyfriend’s head. “What was it about?”

Surely not about the green onions and peppers, although Doyoung did call Johnny an ass in his message to you. 

“At first it was about dinner,” Johnny tells you, “I was on my phone trying to coordinate a schedule with an artist that wants to work with me, and I guess Doyoung just thought I was playing around on my phone, so he started getting irritated with me for ignoring him asking me to run out to get ingredients, and that just turned into us bickering about dinner, and then fighting about me ignoring him, and then I just started to get mad and I said some stupid stuff, but so did he and it just kept building. There was yelling. He burnt part of the dinner, which made everything worse.”

Johnny pauses for a moment, and he slides down so his head rests in your lap. You stroke his hair. 

“We don’t fight. Ever. Not like that. We’ve had disagreements of course, but… He was really pissed. He’s never kicked me out before.” Johnny keeps his eyes closed as he hugs your legs. “I don’t know why I’m crying; this is stupid. But I’m worried that I really screwed something up. What if he breaks up with me? I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, for tonight you can sleep here.” You glide the backs of your fingers against Johnny’s warm cheek. “And tomorrow we can talk to Doyoung.”

At a beeping sound from the kitchen, you remember the ramen, and you carefully extract yourself from beneath Johnny. You divide the ramen into two, and you start a second one. 

“Here.” You offer one of the bowls to Johnny. “Eat. And then you can go shower, and we’ll go to bed.”

Glumly, Johnny swirls his chopsticks through the ramen, not really eating it until you threaten him with making him sleep out here on the sofa. He pouts, but he eats. 

Johnny is just so uncharacteristically quiet, that it puts you off. You feel out of sorts as you move around your apartment, as you refill your bowls with a second helping of ramen, as you clean up afterwards while Johnny goes into your room to plug in his phone to charge, and then he disappears into the bathroom. 

As soon as you hear the shower start, you pick up your phone and you call Doyoung. 

It rings a few times before going to voicemail. You immediately call him again. Doyoung answers on the second ring. 

“Yes?” His tone is short. 

“First of all, don’t get an attitude with me, Doyoung.” You quickly snap, then ask, “What the hell happened? I had a shitty day, I come home and fall asleep, and wake up to a depressed Johnny on my doorstep worried that you’re breaking up with him.”

Doyoung huffs out a heavy breath then says, “We fought.”

“I gathered as much. That’s what he explained to me as he cried on my shoulder. He’s crying, Doyoung! I’ve never seen him like this.” You try to keep your voice quiet enough that it won’t carry to the bathroom. “But what happened for you to kick him out?”

“It’s been a long day,” Doyoung mumbles, “I snapped, and I shouldn’t have yelled, but I just— A lot of different things were just piling up inside me, and it just took one little thing to finally ignite me, and I just blew up on him. I know I shouldn’t have. But he was ignoring me on his phone, and then he started getting on me for nagging him, and then I showed him just how much I can nag, and it just… snowballed. He said some really hurtful things, and so did I, but I didn’t even want to look at him, so I told him to get out. As soon as he was gone, part of me wanted him to come back. Like, we don’t fight so I didn’t like him leaving like that really, but I was still so mad and I knew that if I went after him we would just keep fighting. So I stayed home. And stewed in my anger, especially since you weren’t answering me either. Which, I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve any of my anger.”

“And neither does Johnny,” you tell him, "Listen, we’re just going to stay here at my apartment for now, and I already told Johnny that you two can just sleep on it tonight, and we’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“But you’re talking to me now,” Doyoung says softly. “What’s he doing right now?”

“Showering. And I am talking to you right now, but the only reason I called is because I know you. I know that you and Johnny still love each other regardless of how you left things earlier, and even though you were still pissed at him, you would’ve worried about where he was. So I was just giving you the courtesy of knowing he’s safe with me.”

Doyoung sighs a little. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply as the shower shuts off in the other room. “He’s done showering. I’ve got to go.”

“I love you,” Doyoung says quickly. “And tell him I love him too. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I will. And I love you too. Goodnight.”

Doyoung softly wishes you goodnight as well before the line goes dead. 

Johnny steps out of the bathroom in a puff of steam, water dripping down his immaculate form. A towel is wrapped tightly around his hips. His eyes go straight to the phone in your hand. 

“Was it him?” He asks, turning to walk to your bedroom. 

“It was.” You make sure your apartment door is locked, that the light over the kitchen sink is off, and then you follow Johnny into the bedroom. 

He’s staring out the narrow window of your bedroom that looks directly into your neighbor’s apartment where a young mother is pacing with her crying baby at her shoulder. Johnny pulls the shade down to block the night out, and then he drops the towel from around his hips so he can use it to dry off the rest of the way. 

You would think that after having been with him for so many months now that you might be used to the sight of him naked, but you still feel yourself go a little weak at the knees, and you sink down onto the edge of your bed. 

“What did he want?” Johnny asks as his head emerges from the towel. 

“I actually called him,” you admit. “Even if you’re in a fight, I figured he might still be our normal Doyoung, that he might be worried about where you were, that you’re safe. So I let him know that you’re here with me. He said he loves you.”

Johnny snorts and drapes the towel over the footboard of your bed. He runs his fingers through his hair, combing it back from his face. “Oh, did he?”

“He did.” You pull the bedcovers back so you can slide beneath them. “I’m not going to tell you everything he and I talked about, just like I didn’t tell him everything you and I talked about because you two need to talk it out in the morning. It was one fight. A stupid fight, according to both of you. I don’t know if you’ve heard the saying before ‘don’t go to bed angry’ but it’s a good motto to live by. Don’t go to bed angry and upset tonight, Johnny. Clearly Doyoung feels the same as I do because before we hung up he wanted me to tell you that he loves you. He wants you to know it.”

Johnny settles in beside you, still naked since the only clothes he’s got are the dirty ones he’s been wearing around the city. You curl up on your side to face him. Johnny stares up at your ceiling with his hands folded over his stomach. 

Silence falls, broken only by the distant sounds outside of your apartment. The lights are still on in your room, so you can see Johnny’s gaze dancing around on the ceiling, his whirring mind clearly at play. You watch him for a few moments, wondering if you’re both done talking for the night. 

“This place really is a shithole, you know that, right?” Johnny suddenly says to break up the silence between you. Then he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Sorry, that was rude.”

You laugh a little. “No, I know it is. It’s a shithole with a new leak in the ceiling, noisy neighbors, and now a raise in rent.”

Johnny turns onto his side to face you now. “If everything goes well tomorrow morning with Doyoung, like once I apologize for probably being a bit of a dick—“

“Probably?” You question. 

Johnny just rolls his eyes, but keeps talking, “—And if he doesn’t actually want to, like, kick me out or break up, maybe you should move into our place. You basically live with us anyway. It’s as much your home now as this place. Probably more so. And I think we’d both feel better knowing that you never have to spend another night here. Doyoung and I want you with us every day, every night. Move in with us.”

You hold his gaze. “That’s a big move.”

“So was agreeing to date two guys who were already in a relationship, and look how that’s worked out for you.” Johnny smiles softly, and it’s easy now to look at him and forget that half an hour ago he was crying into your shoulder. “This isn’t some spur of the moment proposal, baby. He and I have talked about it every time that you don’t come home to us.”

You press a hand to Johnny’s chest over his heart. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

You nod. 

Johnny takes your hand from his chest, and he places a soft kiss to your palm before he returns your hand to his heart. He rolls back onto his back, reaching over to the bedside lamp to switch it off, plunging you both into the soft darkness. 

“Goodnight. I love you,” you whisper as you slide closer to him, resting your cheek on his arm. 

“I love you,” Johnny sleepily sighs. 

He waits until your breathing has slowed before he moves, reaching over to the bedside table for his phone. You’re not fully asleep yet, so the movement wakes you. Not that Johnny notices as he pulls his phone up so he can look at it. 

From your vantage point with your cheek on his chest, you can see that he pulls up a conversation with Doyoung. The last message is from earlier that morning, but you watch now through your eyelashes as he taps in the message bar, his thumb hovering over the characters on the keyboard, but he doesn’t type anything for a long few moments. The screen actually dims into sleep mode before Johnny moves again. 

You watch as Johnny carefully and slowly, with specific intention, types out “I love you too Doyoung-ah” before hitting send and quickly laying the phone back down. 

Don’t go to sleep angry, you repeat the phrase in your mind, tamping down a smile as you think of your boyfriends. You know they love each other too much to stay mad at each other.

Johnny comes prepared for an apology. He made you stop at three different places on the way from your apartment to theirs. Somewhere to get flowers, somewhere to get coffee, and somewhere to grab Doyoung’s favorite pastries. 

But the moment that he types in the code to their apartment door, it’s being opened from the other side. 

It’s a good thing you’d insisted on carrying the pastries and coffees otherwise they’d likely have all been knocked out of Johnny’s hands or crushed between him and Doyoung. The very second that the door is opened wide enough, Doyoung has thrown himself out of it to embrace Johnny in a tight hug. 

The flowers Johnny was still holding are definitely crushed between them, though neither of your boyfriends seem to mind much. 

“I’m sorry!” Doyoung apologizes. “I shouldn’t have kicked you out last night.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoungie,” Johnny apologizes, his face buried in Doyoung’s hair. “I said things I shouldn’t have, things I didn’t mean.”

Doyoung pulls back to look Johnny in the eye. His hands lift to cup either side of Johnny’s face, and he kisses him. 

And keeps kissing him. 

The moment that Johnny’s hands wander to Doyoung’s ass and Doyoung starts to lift his leg as if to wrap his legs around Johnny’s waist, you decide it’s time to interrupt. 

“Let’s move this inside, hm?” You suggest, pushing against Johnny’s back.

They stumble inside, untangling after a few more urgent kisses of apology pass between them. 

The ruined bouquet drops to the floor, scattered petals falling around it, but Doyoung still scoops it up and places it on the narrow table in the entryway. 

All three of you move over to the sitting area. They sit on the sofa, and you take your favorite chair adjacent to them. You pass out coffees and pastries to your two boyfriends, and you sit there as witness and mediator (if necessary) as they make their sincerest apologies to each other and discuss some of the problems they were having. Doyoung’s work-related stress, Johnny distraction also work-related. The comments about nagging, little things that have been bothering each other that the other could improve upon. The bigger things they’d said during the fight, the things that hurt.

It feels healthy, in your opinion. Healthy and very adult to sit down and have an open conversation about these issues. They even open the conversation to include you after a bit, to address any issues you might have with either of them, and you welcome anything they might have to say to you. 

In the end, everything that’s been said are easy fixes. Well, relatively easy. 

And then Johnny turns the conversation, asking, “Doyoung, baby, what do you think of our lovely girlfriend moving in here with us?”

“Like actually moving in? For real now, not this halfway here thing she’s doing now?” Doyoung looks at you with wide eyes. “Please do! We’ve been talking about it for months now, but we figured you just wanted your own space.”

That had been part of it for a while, and you were just locked in on your lease. But that time is coming to an end, and with the rent hike, you’re certainly not planning on renewing the lease. And you do love being here with your boyfriends, like over the months you’ve been in this relationship you’ve been spending less and less time away from them. You’ve made yourself at home here, and it’s about time you officially call this place home. 

So at last, plans are made. 

Doyoung is eager, offering to help you move out of your place immediately, but you inform him that you’ve got one last month on your lease. After that though you will be completely and utterly theirs. 

“Perfect,” Johnny declares, “Now that that’s all settled and we’ve made up, can I suggest some hot make-up sex?”

Doyoung laughs loudly as Johnny slides over him, pushing him flat onto the sofa, covering Doyoung’s body with his. His lips find Doyoung’s throat. Doyoung’s hands settle on Johnny’s hips as his laughter dissolves into moans. 

You happily watch on as your boyfriends make out, as they strip each other. You’re content to observe as Johnny’s hand disappears between Doyoung’s thighs, as he discovers that Doyoung is already stretched open, slick with lube. 

“I’ve always told you that you’re hot when you’re angry,” Doyoung gasps, clutching at Johnny’s shoulders while the elder of the two presses his fingers inside Doyoung’s hole. “And — fuck, Johnny! — I kept thinking about it this morning in the shower. How you looked while we were fighting last night. I couldn’t help touching myself.”

You touch yourself now too, slipping a hand inside your panties while your boyfriends fuck. You spread your thighs, and only fully lose your leggings and panties when Johnny looks over and demands to see you. He’s balls deep in a keening Doyoung, but he wants to watch your pussy swallow your fingers, to see your wetness dripping onto the cushion of the armchair you’re in. 

And after Doyoung cums on Johnny’s cock, quivering and crying out, shooting cum across his own belly, Johnny pulls out and heavily suggests that Doyoung crawl over to you on his hands and knees, that he should make you cum with just his tongue and fingers. 

“Come, Doyoung, eat me out like a good boy.” You twist your fingers through his hair as soon as he’s close enough, yanking him forward the last little bit. He braces his hands on your thighs, pushing your knees towards your chest, and he licks his lips, flicking his gaze up to briefly touch on yours in the moment before you tug on his hair, dragging his mouth to meet your pussy. 

Doyoung has always had a magical mouth, so it didn’t take much directing, but you want him to feel that you’re in charge of him. So you tug on his hair, roll your hips against his face, talk down to him a little bit in a way that makes him squirm and reach a hand down into his lap. 

After a few moments, as you can feel yourself getting close, you pull him back with a fist in his hair just for you to stand up, to turn him around so Doyoung’s head tips back against the seat of the chair, and then you straddle him, still with a fistful of his hair, as you lower yourself over his face. 

Doyoung moans heartily as you sit on his face, as you hump his face, rubbing your pussy against his eager lips and hungry tongue. 

“Fuck, Doie, your tongue is so sweet.” Your orgasm rocks through you, carving its way through you until you sink weakly away from Doyoung’s mouth. “You’re so good to me.”

You put your hand to his chin, guiding his mouth to yours, and you don’t even care that all you can taste is yourself as you lick into his mouth. Your juices wet your lips, both of you moaning into the kiss. 

Then Johnny is there. His warm, broad hands on your hips. 

“Can I be inside you, my love?” He kisses your cheek, grinds his cock against the curve of your ass.

“Johnny,” you sigh, rolling your head back against his chest as he fits himself against your back. “Yes, fuck me. I want both of you to fuck me.” 

Doyoung is hard again beneath you. You want both of them to cum inside you. You can handle it. You need it. 

Johnny fills you first, pressing his thick cock deep inside you. He thrusts a few times before pulling back and reaching beneath you so he can help guide you to sink down onto Doyoung’s waiting erection. You bounce slowly, savoring the way that Doyoung dazedly grins and moans at the soft, sweet warmth of your pussy wrapped around him. And then Johnny’s there again. The fat tip of his cock pushes in, the stretch makes your head spin, your heart race, your pussy drip. 

It’s only mid-morning and you’re being double penetrated by your boyfriends out in the open of the apartment. 

You clutch at Doyoung’s shoulders and crush your mouth to his again as Johnny thrusts in, spearing you open in the most delightful way, the pain a distant thing as your boyfriends envelop you. Doyoung’s mouth is busy with yours, his hands at your tits. Johnny kisses your throat, his fingers wandering down your abdomen to access your clit as he rocks his hips shallowly, letting you adjust to having both of your boyfriends planted deep in your pussy. 

“Move,” you demand with a whine. 

Doyoung pinches your nipples, twisting them between his fingers. Johnny bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. They both move; Johnny with powerful thrusts, Doyoung with his hands on your hips to rock you back and forth atop him. 

It doesn’t take long before Doyoung is spilling inside you. He throws his head back with a low moan as he cums, making the way even slicker for Johnny. Doyoung abandons your tits in favor of brushing Johnny’s hands away from your clit so he can take over. 

“Want you to squirt for us,” Doyoung says, flicking his thumb lightly over your clit. He lowers his head to catch one of your nipples between his teeth as Johnny fucks into you again, making you jolt forward, pushing your tits right into Doyoung’s face. He pulls back for just long enough to say, “Squirt on me and Johnny’s cocks, daddy.” 

Oh, fuck. That’s unfair. 

After their anniversary when you pegged Doyoung and he called you daddy, it’s something you’ve talked about a bit more extensively and you’ve explored the kink just once more. It’s something you thought he would only say when you’re topping him, which you really aren’t doing right now. But as you grab a fistful of his hair again and smother him with your tits, you think you hear him moan “daddy” again, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. 

“Fuck, that’s right, baby.” Johnny moans, fucking into you a bit harder now. “Squirt for us. Our baby’s begging for it. He wants you to make a mess of him, wants his daddy’s cum all over him.” This last part Johnny says with his lips to your ear, “C’mon, we’ll both make a mess of him, and we can take turns cleaning him up until he’s crying and pleading for us to stop.”

Doyoung’s spit slicks your tits. His fingers slip in rapid circles against your clit. Johnny pushes in harder, faster, deeper chasing his climax as yours rapidly rises. The knot in your belly grows hot and tight. Doyoung’s tongue and teeth catch one of your nipples, his fingers pinch your clit, Johnny hits deep and stills as his cock gushes hot cum into your belly, and your core liquefies, the orgasm erupting through you, and your body rocks, hips jolting as your body gives in to what your boyfriends both wanted. 

You squirt all over Doyoung’s belly, and again, he cums inside you. 

You lose all strength, collapsing against Doyoung. 

It’s horrible when Johnny draws out of you, the loss of his heat and the thick comforting weight of him inside you. Doyoung still suckles at one of your tits, your body shivering, clenching, dripping around his cock. 

As Johnny tenderly wraps his arms around you and lifts you, Doyoung drops his head back against the seat once more with a contented sigh. “Fantastic make-up sex. I hate that we fought, but, damn. This almost made it worth it.” 

You’re too satisfied to be able to muster up a response, happy to just let Johnny carry you off to clean up.

It turns out that Doyoung was incredibly correct about how easy it is to pull strings when you’ve got two boyfriends working for the company. 

In the aftermath of the fantastic make-up sex, as the three of you lounged around in the apartment, you’d complained to them about your awful day at work the day before, how you are just over and done with the cafe. So Doyoung called over to the company and got you the opportunity to job shadow Ara as a travel advisor for the company. 

And days later, there you are in the office with Ara, following her around, paying attention and asking questions, and realizing that this truly is something you’d like to do. After a few more days and an invitation to shadow her on a trip to Thailand with a pair of artists, you let Lia know that you’re going to give the cafe your notice, and then you call your boss at the cafe to let her know that you’re quitting. 

It feels freeing. 

Although you still have a passion for coffee and barista things, and though you did have some favored regulars in the cafe, it’s so nice to know that you are leaving that part of your life behind. You’re ready to start this new life here as a travel advisor, ready to completely move out of your old place and into the home you’ve made with Johnny and Doyoung. 

As an early Christmas gift, Doyoung and Johnny pay your last month of rent at your apartment, and then they say that your gift in return can just be to stay with them all the time. You happily acquiesce, perfectly pleased to spend your mornings and nights in their nice comfy bed without all the hubbub of your apartment’s neighbors and the street sounds and the creaky pipes. They help you sell the furniture you don’t want to keep, and what you do want, they find the perfect spot for — an opening for the horribly ugly vase your mother bought you (that you actually do adore), a bare spot of floor in the bedroom that is perfect for the area rug you used to have in your living room. You merge in perfectly in every possible way; it feels as if you’ve always belonged. 

They have a second bedroom which they really don’t use as a bedroom at all. It’s more of an office/studio/expansion of the closet, but that’s where they end up squeezing your old bed. 

“Just in case,” Johnny says, planting a kiss to the top of your head. “In case you just need a break from us, or if we need a break from Doyoung, we can put him in time out.”

Doyoung, who is still sitting on the floor trying to figure out where an extra screw was meant to go in the bedframe, scoffs. “More like when she and I need a break from you, Johnny Suh.”

But you truly don’t need any breaks from your boyfriends, though you get one in the form of a week in Thailand shadowing Ara as you and her help coordinate the travel plans of two artists working under Johnny and Doyoung’s company, Mark and Haechan. Typically they work as soloists, but their company has thrown them together for a duo project, to the great appreciation of many of their fans. And they’re friends of Johnny and Doyoung’s, so that makes things just a little bit easier on you.

Thailand is fantastic and eye-opening, and as soon as you’re back in Seoul, you formally apply for a role as one of the travel coordinators. 

Doyoung swears that he’s not even going to put in a good word for you, that if you get the job it’s fully on your own merit. Johnny tells you that he’s maybe going to let it slip to the right person that you’re amazing. 

Regardless of whether they do or don’t, you get the job.

And the position is the job of your dreams. You quickly realize it’s everything that you could have imagined and more. It’s fun and creative and allows you to travel and explore while you’re overseas with either your boyfriends or other artists. 

You are living the absolute dream.

Dream job. Dream apartment. Dream boyfriends. 

Love swells in your chest as you look around yourself, at the life you’ve built.

You watch as Johnny lifts a delighted Hajoon up in the air. The toddler screeches with laughter as Johnny spins both of them around in circles. Hajoon shrieks again as Johnny dips him before bringing him right back up, holding him as if the little boy is a plane soaring through the air of the sitting room. 

Doyoung sinks down onto the sofa with you. He passes you a cup of hot tea and then stretches his arm behind you. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks. 

You sigh and drop your head to Doyoung’s shoulder. “Periods fucking suck.”

Doyoung makes a quiet sound of commiseration. “I’m sorry, my love. Hajoon’s parents should be back soon, and then the three of us can just relax the rest of the day.”

Fortunately, Hajoon is the son of a friend of Johnny and Doyoung’s. The parents had plans today, and your boyfriends volunteered to babysit. And as wonderful and adorable as it is to entertain a toddler and watch your boyfriends play with him, you’re so grateful that you don’t have any kids. Hajoon is a whirlwind, a ball of energy, and today you are feeling a definite lack of energy.

Johnny cradles the little boy in his arms, tickling him until Hajoon is breathless. Finally Johnny lowers him to the floor, and Hajoon starfishes on the floor, still giggling, but in a way that leads you to believe that he’s about ready for a nap. Praise the Lord.

Doyoung and Johnny swap spots. Johnny flops onto the sofa, laying his head to rest in your lap. Doyoung sits on the floor and Hajoon crawls into his lap, curling up there as Doyoung picks up a storybook. The soothing sound of Doyoung’s voice fills the room, and Johnny breathes deeply and closes his eyes. 

Soon, Hajoon is napping. Doyoung carefully sets the book aside, shifts the sleepy toddler in his arms, and carries him to the bed in the spare room. 

“It’s so nice to just be a fun uncle,” Johnny mumbles, still not opening his eyes. “Because at the end of the day, we get to send him home with Mom and Dad.” 

You brush your fingers over his hair, pushing a few tendrils away from his forehead. “You don’t want kids?”

Johnny makes a noncommittal sound. “It’s up to you, really.”

“Me?” 

“You.” Johnny nods, and he opens his eyes to look up at you. “I mean, having children, like, you’re the one that would be putting your body through that, so it’s up to you if you would want to. I’m down for adopting too, but again, that’s not solely my decision either.”

His hair is soft beneath your fingers as you continue playing with it. You ask, “And Doyoung?”

“Doyoungie and I talked about it, before you came along. The possibility of adoption, of surrogacy.” Johnny reaches up and takes your hand from his hair, holding it within both of his against his chest. “We haven’t discussed it seriously, though. We always said we weren’t really sure how possible it would be for us to do either of those things since gay marriage isn’t really allowed here, and I’m sure gay couples adopting isn’t looked upon too favorably either. But we discussed kids, that we like the idea of having one or two.”

Johnny’s eyes focus on a spot behind you, and then Doyoung says, “I think being a dad would be nice. But, it’s up to you.”

“Me?” You ask again.

Doyoung comes around the end of the sofa, sinking down beside you once more. “Well, Johnny and I can’t very well exclude you from the decision, can we? We’re all three a part of this family. Intertwined lives and love. And with or without kids, I want to be with both of you. Kids would just be a bonus, whether they’re mine or Johnny’s or adopted. The only thing I’m sure of is you. Both of you.”

“Same,” Johnny agrees, taking Doyoung’s hand as well and holding it over his chest alongside yours. “My loves.”

Maybe it’s because of your period (you would love to blame it on your period), or maybe it’s just because of the genuine depth of emotion, but you find yourself smiling, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“I love you guys.” The quavering words leave you with a fresh wave of tears rising in your eyes, cresting and spilling over. “I love you both so much. And I don’t know what the future holds for us. I’m just taking everything in my life one uncertain step at a time, and I never thought that me quitting my boring job pushing paperwork at an accounting firm to follow my passion for coffee would lead me here.” 

A sob bubbles its way out of you. 

Johnny’s hands lift to your cheeks, thumbing away your tears. Doyoung wraps his arms around you, drawing your head to his shoulder. 

“Everyone told me that I was being ridiculous,” you blubber, “When I had one really good cup of coffee from the cafe, and decided to uproot everything to work there. But I told them it would be worth it in the long run, and it really was. I have you now,” you kiss Doyoung’s cheek, then turn to Johnny and say, “And you.” He lifts your hand from his chest and kisses it. 

“I remember the first time I came in there and saw you,” Johnny admits after a moment. “I remember the first coffee you served me. You were so smiley and polite. A little frazzled maybe, but still friendly. Your hair was braided back, coming loose, and there were strands of it hanging around your face, and I remember thinking how cute you looked as you tried catching up on the drink orders, trying to blow strands of hair out of your face.”

Doyoung laughs softly, squeezing your shoulder. 

Johnny continues, “And I was sitting at a table, lost in my thoughts, and I think I missed you calling out my name, but after a few minutes, you brought it out to me. You sat it down, said ‘a cup of coffee for your thoughts,’ smiled at me so preciously while I told you that I was stuck on some silly song I was producing, and I just… I got this feeling right then that I’d made the right choice in a coffee shop that morning. It’s the same feeling I had when Doyoung walked into that recording studio the night that we met.”

Now, Doyoung dips his head almost bashfully. You laugh a little, and tears of sweet emotion warm your cheeks.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Johnny muses softly, “A cup of coffee for your love.”

It’s all disgustingly mushy and emotional and teary. Your newest tears trigger Doyoung to tear up, and then Johnny is teasing you both, kissing you both, drying your tears. 

After Hajoon’s parents come to pick him up, Johnny pulls you and Doyoung into bed for a proper nap. You know you need to talk to them, a long deep conversation with them after you only really touched on the topic of kids earlier, but for now, you sink into bed, snug between the warmth of your boyfriends. 

You have had a lot of uncertainties in your life, cloudy moments and paths that you simply couldn’t see the end of. But if there’s one thing that’s clear, one thing that is certain, it is that this happiness, right here, is where you belong.

<- previous || THE END

a/n: it's over! This fic took me almost a year to write since I started it on Valentine's Day and am finishing it on New Years Eve lol but I'm actually pretty pleased with the end result. Johnny and Doyoung have provided me with plenty of inspiration over these long months, the most recent being Johnny's episode of Johnny Says at Kidzania, and my favorite being seeing them live and in person in front of my eyes back in March in Chicago.

If you've read this whole little series I really and truly appreciate you! To the anon that recently messaged me about where the final chapter is, thank you so much! Your message was what made me decide to actually resume writing and finish this thing!