To celebrate getting my Tumblr back, here's a toxic yuri one-shot with Rockstar!Femjo.
TW: 2.9k words, dubcon, drug-use, peer pressure, power imbalance, sleep-deprived writing
If Satoru had to pick her favorite part about being the lead singer of The Special Grades, it’d be all the women she had access to. Prior to forming a band with her closest friends, she kept her sexuality under wraps. Her wealthy, conservative family already looked down on her for being ‘improper’. She didn’t need to give them more fuel, so for the longest time, Shoko and Suguru were the only ones who knew what she was. The drummer and the guitarist never once looked down on her for being queer. Quite the opposite, as they urged her to live her truth. But, for so long, she was too pussy to do so.
Then, one of their songs was discovered by a record executive, he liked it, and the rest was history.
Signing that record deal gave Satoru freedom beyond her wildest dreams, and when they scored a hit record overseas, she was emboldened to come out of the closet. Japanese society might’ve commended her orientation—same sex marriage wasn’t even legal in Japan—but in more progressive countries, the move only got her more love. She could be her authentic self and fuck all the women she wanted to with zero judgment.
Yet, despite all the women currently throwing themselves at her, she only had eyes for you.
Following the band’s latest performance, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko decided to hit a nearby club, as had become tradition. The high of the performance gave them all energy, and the coke they’d snorted beforehand didn’t hurt. More coke was currently splayed out on the table, groupies helping themselves to the white powder as they vied for the band’s attention. Shoko and Suguru, freaky ass couple they were, were scouting a third to join them for a night. Satoru had a petite blonde on her lap, but her eyes kept drifting to you.
It was obvious this wasn’t your usual scene. Your clothing was just as risqué, your face just as pretty, but your demeanor was closed off. Two other girls were with you, both appearing more confident than you, both screaming to try to get their attention from the section they sat in. The only thing their loudness did was draw more attention to you, who was so quiet by contrast.
Satoru stood, not caring that the blonde landed on the floor, and strolled to Toji, one of their bodyguards. She nodded to you.
“Bring her to me,” she ordered, batting her lashes when he scowled.
“Be specific,” he stated, not moving an inch.
“Cheetah print dress with the braids,” she said, grinning when he nodded and set off. “Thank you, Toji.”
A minute later, Toji was guiding you through the prongs of people and into the roped-off section. Shoko and Suguru had already swooped in, whisking away the blonde Satoru had discarded. Slut that she was, she had no problem jumping from one band member to the next.
“Hey, cutie,” Satoru said when Toji deposited you in front of her.
You looked like a deer in headlights. Stars were practically bursting from your eyes, your pretty lips—painted a red color that complemented your complexion—were formed into a pretty ‘o’. Grinning, she patted the seat next to her.
Still not saying a word, you stumbled over your feet, plopping down next to her. Satoru wasted no time throwing an arm around your shoulders. “What’s your name, cutie?”
You whispered it, then cleared your throat, and repeated it with more confidence. Satoru hummed. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”
She knew her lines weren’t original, but when you looked like her, had her money and fame, pick-up lines didn’t need to be creative to be effective.
“I…can my friends get in, too?” you asked hesitantly, making her chuckle.
Some might’ve taken offense to your cheekiness. In the past, she had gotten annoyed by similar requests, but your shyness was too cute for her to get upset.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” she cooed, already imagining all the positions she’d put you in.
She waved a scowling Toji over and relayed the request. Moments later, your squealing friends were rushing her.
“We’re such big fans,” the redhead said, sitting on the other side of Satoru. “Like, I have every single one of your records.”
“Me too,” the brunette chimed, her eyes darting over to Toji, who rolled his eyes.
Toji, the fucker, had his own share of groupies. Apparently, people found him handsome, but he was loyal to his wife.
Satoru waved a hand at the table in front of them, laden with drugs and alcohol. “Help yourselves.”
The redhead poured shots, handing them to you and the brunette. All three of you threw them back, though the alcohol didn’t make you relax one bit. Satoru tsked and squeezed your thigh.
“Relax, sweetheart.” Reaching forward, she grabbed a rolled-up hundred. “Here. Do a line with me. It’ll help.”
“C’mon, girlie, don’t be a buzzkill,” the brunette said, pouring herself another shot.
Tossing it back, she stood and sashayed to Toji. Satoru looked away, not needing to watch to see how that story would unfold.
“I’ll do one with you,” the redhead said, already grabbing for the hundred.
Satoru snatched her hand away and tsked. “I want her to do it first.” Looking at you, she tilted her head to the side. “You want to make me happy, don’t you?”
Swallowing, you nodded and took the hundred. With a deep breath, you leaned forward and snorted the line. You inhaled sharply, reeling back and rubbing at your nose. Your eyes were wide, and your body began to tremble.
“You good?” Satoru asked, massaging your thigh.
You blinked, then shrugged. “I…I think?”
“You wanna get outta here?”
“I do,” you whispered, already standing. You looked at your friends. “Ready to go?”
“Dumbass, she’s asking you to leave with her. Go!” the redhead said, while the brunette sulked back with a pouty expression.
When the situation was explained, they both began urging you to leave with Satoru, saving her the stress of having to convince you. Grabbing your hand, she tugged you forward, guiding you through the crowded club. The music was booming, the lights were flashing, and the air was oppressive, stinking of alcohol, sweat, and too much perfume. You clung to her as she guided you to the back exit, still trembling. It was clear you weren’t used to hard drugs, and by the time you two were in the car, you were slumped against her.
“I don’t feel so good,” you said, burying your face in her neck.
“Don’t worry,” Satoru cooed, rubbing a hand over your hair. “We’re going back to my hotel room. I’ll make you feel all better.”
“I just…I think I should go home,” you said, your voice sounding wobbly, as if you were close to tears.
“Well, we’re already on the way to the hotel, pretty,” she said gently, though mentally, she was rolling her eyes.
She saw you staring at her throughout the night, and now that she had you where you’d no doubt fantasized about being, you were acting shy. She couldn’t wait to fuck the shyness out of you.
Satoru was nothing like she was in interviews. She wasn’t the playful, fun lead singer of your favorite band, but a dominant force of nature. Pushy, even. You’d known that your favorite celebrity wouldn’t be the same in real life, but you never anticipated her being so wildly different. Actually, you never anticipated meeting her. Nor did you anticipate doing coke, but peer pressure was a bitch. You hadn’t wanted to let your friends down, and it was clear they were expecting you to seal the deal. And God, did you want to, but the moment the coke was in your nostril, you felt fear and regret.
Maybe, just maybe, you never should’ve let that bodyguard guide you into that section. Perhaps, after the show, you shouldn’t have gone to the club The Special Grades posted about on their IG, and just headed home.
“What’s your favorite album?” Satoru asked when they arrived at her hotel suite.
The heavy door of the hotel suite clicked shut, the sound echoing through the space with finality that made your stomach flip. You couldn’t help but jump, making her laugh as she steered you toward the sitting area.
“I asked you a question, cutie. What’s your favorite album?”
“Cursed,” you said quietly, unable to meet her too-blue gaze. “I loved how it dealt with heavier topics. It felt real, and—”
“You saying our other projects felt fake?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
She laughed, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m messing with you.”
You forced your own giggles, squirming in your seat. With a yawn, she stood, her 6’3 frame towering over you. Her black crop revealed a strip of taut stomach, a silver ring glinting in her navel. Her height was something you found attractive, as you’d always been drawn to tall women. Right now, though, it made you feel small and had you shrinking into yourself even more. The drugs weren’t helping, as they turned the world into a blur of shimmering edges and distorted sounds.
You yelped when she grabbed your arm, hauling you up and over her shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Slapping your ass, she carried you to her bedroom, kicking the door open. She didn’t bother closing it, tossing you onto the bed.
“Dress up, now,” she ordered, any hint of playfulness gone.
For a moment, you were frozen. Your limbs felt like lead, and your head was spinning. Fear and anticipation had you dizzy. But ultimately, Satoru was your idol. Her music had gotten you through some of the darkest periods of your life, and while she wasn’t how you’d imagined her, you’d spent so many years worshipping her that you couldn’t squander this opportunity.
So, you lifted your dress until your tits were out, exposing your pink panties with a little bow.
“How adorable,” she cooed, staring at your undies, before ripping them off you.
“Shh,” she whispered, “I know you’re shy. I know you’re scared. But you trust me, don’t you?
After a moment of silence, you nodded, because what else could you do?
“Good girl,” she praised, her smile wolfish.
Leaning down, she slammed her lips against yours. Immediately, her tongue pushed into your mouth. You gasped, her lips swallowing the sound as one hand tangled in your hair and yanked your head back. The sting made your eyes water, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t soaking wet.
When your lips felt swollen and raw, she pulled away. “You’re shaking,” she murmured, burying her head in your neck.
“I’m just nervous,” you manage, hating how small your voice sounds.
“Why?” she asked, kissing your pulse point, before going lower. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Your answer—that you didn’t know—died in your throat as she sucked a nipple into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, and the coke amplified everything. You gasped, your back arching and hands flying to her white hair, and she sucked until the bud was hard and aching. At that point, she switched to your other tit, giving it the same treatment, before kissing lower.
“Just relax for me, cutie, and stop acting shy.”
“It isn’t an act,” you said in protest.
She snorted as she nudged your thighs apart. “Yet here you are, in a stranger’s bed, about to let her fuck you.”
The words stung. They made you sound easy, when apart from Satoru, only two people had been in your bed. Before you could defend your innocence, two fingers were buried in your cunt, making you cry out.
“You’re so fucking wet,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your inner thighs. “How long has it been since someone touched you here, sweetheart?”
“A—a year,” you whimpered.
With that, she lowered her head and licked, focusing on your clit. Your back arched, but she pressed a hand to your lower belly, forcing you to stay still as she sucked the bundle of nerves between her lips, while her fingers pumped in and out of you. She shoved them knuckle deep and curled, hitting your G-spot and making you cry out her name.
“Please,” you hear yourself sob, your entire body shaking. “Please, please, please—”
“Please, what?” She looks up at you through her lashes, her chin glistening. “Use your words.”
You didn’t answer immediately. You couldn’t, much to her annoyance. With an eyeroll, she slapped your thighs, making you yelp.
“Please make me come!” you cried, desperate for the orgasm you feel building to be unleashed.
She chuckled. “Good girl.”
Diving back in, she circled your clit with the tip of her tongue, flicking it in and out, before gently sucking. She continued curling your fingers, stretching you open while her mouth attacked your bud. The pleasure builds and builds, and soon, you’re coming undone. The room spins. Colors flash behind your eyelids as your wetness gushes out, soaking her fingers and face. You scream, but it seems to be coming from far away.
She keeps licking, keeps fucking you with her fingers, drawing it out until you’re sobbing with overstimulation. When she finally pulls away, your body feels boneless. You slump against the bed, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. Satoru stands, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks down at you with that wolfish smile and begins to undress. You watch, your mouth going dry as her beautiful, pale body becomes exposed.
But when she’s nude, she doesn’t come back onto the bed. She turns and leaves the room. Your brows furrow, but you’re too tired to get up. Instead, you lie there, wondering what she’s doing. You hear her rummaging, but you don’t know for what.
Moments later, you get the answer when she comes back wearing a large black strap-on. Your breath catches. The black silicone was curved and thick, bigger than anything you’d ever put inside yourself. You watched as she grabbed lube, coating the silicone with it until the fake cock gleamed. Still, it didn’t ease your anxiety.
“It won’t fit,” you blurted as she positioned herself at your entrance.
She laughed. “It’ll fit.”
“Shhh,” she ordered, her fingers gliding along your slit, gathering the slick that’d seeped out. “Did you ever dream about this, sweetheart? When you listened to my songs, did you ever dream about me fucking you? Did you touch yourself to the thought?”
“I don’t know,” you said, though you had, in fact, touched yourself to the thought of her.
She laughed again as she positioned the head of the dildo at your entrance, but her eyes were hard. “I think you’re lying.”
That was all she said before she pushed forward, filling you completely. You shrieked, back arching off the bed as tears pricked your eyes.
“Breathe,” she commanded, and despite yourself, despite the pain, you obeyed.
The sensation was so foreign. You felt full, the strap-on touching places nothing had ever touched before. You feel your walls clenched around the silicone intruder, trying to push it out, but Satoru’s hands grip your hips and hold you steady, preventing you from going anywhere.
“Don’t fight it. Take it.”
The tip presses deep, nudging your cervix, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
“Too much,” you whimper. “Please, it’s too—”
“It’s not.” She leans over you, her face inches from yours, her breath hot on your lips. “You can take it. You’re made for this. Look at how your pussy swallows me.”
The bed rocked beneath you as she began to move, her deep thrusts making your body jolt. You gripped the silk sheets beneath you, your vision blurring as she moved on top of you. As your body began to adjust to the strap-on, pain and pleasure blended.
The coke still had you sensitive, as did your previous orgasm, making tension quickly build in your core.
“I’m gonna—” you began, but she cuts you off with a hand around your throat.
“Not yet.” She squeezed, just enough to make you dizzy and to remind you who’s in control. “You come when I say you can.”
Her words did nothing to stop the pressure building. Your legs shook as you struggled to hold back your orgasm.
“Please,” you choked out. “Please, Satoru, I need—”
“I know what you need.” She released your throat and reached between your legs, her thumb finding your clit. She circled it while she fucked you, the dual stimulation pushing you closer to the edge. “You need to come on my cock, don’t you?”
She chuckled, then leaned down and kissed you, swallowing your cries. All the while, you struggled not to fall apart. When she pulled away, she spoke the magic words you longed to hear.
Her permission granted, you fell apart. Your body convulsed, back arching off the bed. A scream tore from your throat as you gushed around the dildo, soaking her thighs, the harness, the silk beneath you. She kept thrusting through it, riding out your climax, her thumb pressing hard on your clit until you’re sobbing, trembling, and utterly spent.
When she finally pulled out, you felt achingly empty. The room spun, the cocaine haze mixing with the endorphins until you can barely form a thought. So, you didn’t try to. You just closed your eyes, letting the darkness take you, drifting off to the sound of a camera snapping a photo.
