Chapter Text
The second Rumi gets home she kicks off her shoes, yanks the tie from her neck, and shrugs out of the stupid vest they make her wear.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she is still a rational person who knows she’ll need to wear them again tomorrow, so she hangs the vest and tie up on her coat rack instead of setting them on fire and throwing them out the window. It is really the least she can do.
She tugs at her braid. She usually doesn’t mind wearing her hair back like that, often chooses to do it on her off days, too, but today it feels just a little too restrictive. She starts parting the strands as she tries and fails to not re-live the shift from hell.
Being a bartender is fine. Fun, sometimes. Neutral most of the time. A way to make a living until her singing career finally takes off, which would be any day now.
Being a bartender at a high-end hotel is less fun. She’d done it in a dive bar before switching here for the higher hourly rate, and honestly some days she’d trade the extra cash for some amount of fucking excitement.
She was used to a loose dress code, free shots if the floor manager was out of sight, and a baseball bat behind the counter to threaten rowdies with. Now, all she has is dry martinis and crisp dollar tips and old businessmen hitting on her. Poorly.
Rumi makes her way to her home bar, grabs a wine glass, chooses a random red.
At least her coworkers are fine, for the most part. None are close enough for her to call a friend, but they get along alright. Except for the two she’d been stuck with tonight.
Abby and Jinu.
Rumi grimaces and takes a swig of the wine as she thinks about them again. Fuckers.
Jinu on his own was fine. Perfectly pleasant, perfectly quiet and out of her way. But add Abby into the mix- Asshole Abby, they all call him that- and he was terrible.
The two of them were like stupid frat bros together. Abby found a way to have his shirt unbuttoned half of the time. He and Jinu would do dumb little “pranks” that were only funny to them, things like re-wiring the water valve to the lemonade dispenser so that when Rumi tried to wash out a glass it got sticky instead. The whole rest of the night, Abby would whisper “get pissed on” and run another glass under it, and Jinu would laugh like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Absolute children.
But tonight- tonight really took the cake. It had been a surprisingly busy night. Some kind of fancy science conference was in town and the hotel was the venue. After the talks, everyone adjourned to the bar. Rumi was running around (well, she was respectfully walking quickly) pouring drinks, refilling ice, taking orders, closing tabs. The other two were doing who the fuck knows, but at least appeared to be helping out and staying out of her way.
Then she noticed it was only herself and Jinu behind the bar.
She looked around, and yep, sure enough, Abby was there, sat down at a table with his shirt miraculously half-unbuttoned. He was flirting with some lady who was so devastatingly out of his league. Rumi wanted to shout to her that she could absolutely do better, she was way too pretty and too smart to get with Asshole Abby. But then Abby leaned in and said something, and to Rumi’s horror, the woman was laughing, and the two got up from the table and walked out.
Walked. Out.
In the middle of the shift. Full bar. Running out of ice. And Abby just left.
She turned to Jinu. He could sense that she was about to go off on him, as a proxy for Abby who was out of range. He shrugged, putting up two hands in placation, which looked to Rumi like red flags to a bull.
She charged (walked respectfully). By the time she was approaching Jinu’s end of the bar, he was already walking away. “Where are you going?”
“Gotta shit.”
Rumi bit back a scream. Whenever he said that, he was gone for 45 minutes minimum.
The only thing saving him was the crowd of witnesses, and he knew it. He scurried away before she could improvise a weapon.
And that was how she ended up manning the bar solo during rush for an hour and a half.
Rumi finishes her wine and pours another glass. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to release the negative thoughts with every exhale.
She considers what to do next. She needs stress relief, and fast. She could watch some TV. She could take a nice, relaxing bath. She could curl up and go to sleep early.
But she feels way too pent up to do any of those things. Too full of energy, too mind-wandery.
She rolls her head and shoulders, shaking loose some of the tension she’s been holding there. Runs a hand through her loose hair. Her glass is suddenly empty again. She is feeling better, warmer.
Restless.
Fuck. She should’ve brought someone home to help work off this energy. Should’ve made a move in the sea of people- if Asshole Abby could bag a scientist, she certainly could. But she’d been way too angry and focused to flirt, and she wasn’t really one for flings anyway.
Leaving the wine glass on her counter for future Rumi to deal with, she grabs her laptop and heads to her room.
She keeps the lights dim, shrugs the rest of her clothes off. Sinks into her bed. Opens the laptop.
She always feels a little skeevy, doing this. Not touching herself- that part was fine. Natural. Feels good. But back when she was first exploring this avenue of release, she’d realized she has a very hard time actually coming without a visual stimulus.
Therein lies the skeeve. Porn sites are notorious for mistreating their actors, and it was hard to know exactly what was online consensually and what wasn’t.
Still, Rumi has done her research at this point, and opens her browser to her chosen, trusted site. A place where certain usernames were starting to become familiar. Like this one, on the homepage.
MiZoSoup.
Rumi clicks the username link and is rerouted to their landing page. Instantly, she is greeted with a sea of lewd images, thumbnails promising fulfilling content in each video. They are arranged, unlike most other users, into three main playlists: Rough, Sweet, and In-Between. There are also a couple sparser playlists further down the page, named things like “Top 5 Times Zo’s Brain Melted” and “Mi Saying ‘Good Girl’ Compilation”, but Rumi has never gone for the more clickbait-y titles.
Today, she scrolls over to the In-Between playlist. Clicks a random video.
She relaxes into her pillow as the intro plays. It’s a silly one- that TikTok audio of someone saying “I really want some miso soup.” Their logo. “Oh my god, miso soup!” Almost funny enough to take her out of the mood. Rumi knows the timing of it enough to skip to the good stuff by now, but she watches it every time. It’s cute, humanizing. Reminds her that these are real people she can respect while also fucking herself to the sight of them going at it.
After the intro, the video starts abruptly, with the pink haired girl- Mi- already moving her head between Zo’s legs.
Rumi feels it already. Something about the way Mi’s mouth curls into a smile as she leans in to Zo’s core. It’s crazy how attractive she finds these two.
Even crazier considering the camera angle tricks and black bars edited over their eyes to hide their faces.
Still, Rumi can see enough to know that they were extremely hot. Their bodies are on full display, and Rumi’s eyes are currently locked on a freckle on Zo’s neck. The smaller girl is fisting the sheets, letting out little pants and moans that are slowly rising in volume and intensity. Mi’s head bobs in perfect, steady rhythm, her arm pinning Zo’s hips down into the mattress.
Rumi lets her hand wander slowly down her body, making a quick detour at her chest to place some pressure on her sensitive nipples. When her hips cant up as she watches Zo unable to chase her own release, she knows she’ll need a little more from them to really get going.
She uses her unoccupied hand to fast-forward a little, choosing a random spot on the time bar. She uses the short buffer time to spread her legs further, settling her hand between them but not allowing herself anything more until she has a proper show.
And what a show it turns out to be.
When the video loads, she is treated to the sight of the Zo on her knees, back to the camera, holding onto the headboard with white knuckles. Mi is behind her, draping her longer body over Zo’s, their hips flush with one another’s as her hand snakes between Zo’s legs.
She moves her hand slowly, smoothly, in stark contrast to the way Zo trembles. As though she’s waiting for Zo to break before she’ll give her any relief.
Rumi can hear Zo’s uneven breath, the kisses Mi places along her neck and jawline, and the obscene wet sounds of Mi’s hand working Zo’s center.
And she can hear with perfect clarity when Mi began speaking. She has a low voice, and the timbre of it always hits Rumi just right.
“Tell me what you want, Zo.”
With no hesitation Zo’s voice answers, words scratchy with effort. “Mm. More.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Mm. Please, fuck me harder baby? Please?”
Rumi can see, even with the view partially blocked by Mi’s perfect backside, that Zo’s body is shaking. Mi’s non-occupied hand clamps over Zo’s hip, keeping her in place so that she cannot give in to the temptation of sinking down and filling herself. Rumi’s own hand starts moving in lazy circles.
Mi lets out a dark chuckle, apparently not mollified. “You can do better than that, Zo. Think about all the people watching this, waiting to see you all filled up. Waiting to hear your pretty mouth beg for it.”
Rumi’s hand stills and her breath catches in her throat. She feels seen, somehow. She knows that they have hundreds if not thousands of viewers, but somehow it feels as though Mi had been talking about her. And she is waiting, would wait more if that’s what Mi wanted her to do.
“Fuck.” Zo trembles harder. “Please, please- god- please can you fuck me? Baby, I need to feel you inside me, please. Let me show them all how amazing you feel, how…how deep- you- can-“ her words lose their rhythm, her train of thought disappearing into a groan as the camera switches to a closer-up view of two of Mi’s fingers slowly sinking into Zo.
Rumi knows that she’s only really feeling her own need, but as she watches it really feels like it’s her fingertips sinking in- her hands making Zo shudder and gasp. She allows herself more slow circles. Her body wants more, and she nearly gives in as she feels her slick spread down her legs. But she can tell that it won’t take long, once she fucks herself properly, to come. And she wants to see more, wants to last just a little longer.
She imagines how Zo must feel, stretching around those perfect fingers, and how Mi’s voice would feel rumbling through her as she pushed inside. She teases two fingers at her entrance, but doesn’t let herself have them yet.
Zo’s hips are freed of Mi’s grip, now. She lets out a heavenly whimper as she starts to rock forward. But she is stopped once more by Mi’s voice.
“Hm. Did my good girl forget her manners?”
“Fuck. N-No. Thank you.”
“Louder.”
Zo complies immediately. “Thank you, baby! Plea-”
Her request is cut short by Mi, who thrusts forward abruptly. Zo whines as she starts a punishing rhythm- sliding her fingers almost all the way out, then back in. Rumi finds the same tempo with her own hips, feeling empty and desperate. She can’t stop staring at the twin dimples at the base of Mi’s spine. Wondering what it would feel like to hold her there. Press her thumbs into them.
“Good girl. And Zo?”
It takes visible effort for Zo to reply, her neck stretching as she tries to look back at Mi. “Mmhm?”
“Don’t forget to ask before you come.”
Zo whines again, and Rumi nearly does too. She finally curls her fingers inside herself as Zo is allowed to ride Mi’s fingers, trying to keep the same rhythm as the girl on the screen. She thinks vaguely of the strap-on she keeps in the bathroom, wishing it weren’t so far away as she feels a feverish need to be filled by something other than her own fingers, but she clenches around them all the same.
When Mi’s other hand snakes up the front of Zo’s thrusting body, Rumi mirrors the action with her own unoccupied hand. In tandem, they go for the neck.
Zo cries out, and her hips falter in their rhythm as Mi puts pressure just below her jaw, then slides her thumb across Zo’s cheek to come to rest on her lower lip.
“Open.” Mi commands. Zo and Rumi both obey. Zo is rewarded with Mi’s thumb on her tongue, and she starts sucking on it without needing to be asked. Rumi presses down on her own tongue with her own thumb, wondering what Mi’s would taste like instead.
“Good girl. You like taking me like this?”
Zo keens out a yes, and Rumi nods around her thumb as though she’s been asked as well.
“I know you do. I can feel you dripping on me. Fuck. So desperate to be full of me. Aren’t you?”
Another mindless moan from Zo, another nod from Rumi. She finds that a third finger can slip inside easily.
“I know, baby. I know you’re close. I can feel you shaking around my fingers. Fuck. You’re taking me so well. You want to come, don’t you?”
“Fuck. Yes. Please.”
“Tell me.”
“Fuck! Baby, pleasepleaseplease I need it.”
“Not yet.”
“FUCK. But you feel so good, I want-“
“We all know what you want. You want to fuck yourself on my fingers and you want to come because you feel good. Is that right?”
Rumi is walking on the edge of a cliff. Her legs tremble with the effort of holding herself together until Mi says she can come.
“Yes-“
“Mhm. You forget-“ Mi sits up straighter. Rumi can see the pressure of her grip tighten around Zo’s throat. She bites down on her thumb to keep from crying out, and still a weak moan escapes. “You’re lucky to have me inside you at all. You’re here-“ she punctuates her statements with hard thrusts up into Zo, who can do nothing but sit there with her hands on the headboard and take it. “-because I want to fuck you. You get to come-“ thrust “-if I let you. You are here to take me however I want you to take me, whenever I want you to take me, and for the whole world to see what a good girl you are for me. Now ask me again. And pray that I’m feeling nice enough to allow you to come.”
Zoey and Rumi whine at the exact same time. Close. So, so close.
“Please- I- I-“
“Come.”
Fuck. Rumi and Zoey hit their release at the same time, hips rutting forward and moans torn from their mouths in the same pitch.
Rumi thrusts up into her hand as she rides out her orgasm, letting her eyes fall closed and listening as Zo thanks Mi, as they kiss and reiterate their love for one another.
Her heart feels heavy and her body feels warm as she uses the last dregs of her conscious attention to close her laptop. She falls asleep still picturing that freckle.