/vt/ - Virtual Youtubers

>>1863789

>>1201128
"Did you know that despite making up 13% of the population, black men commit nearly 52% of murders in the United States?" Korone called out.

Okayu slowly inched backwards towards the alley wall. It was over. She made sure to keep her eyes on Koro-san, who now stood hunched in front of her with a manic grin painted on her face. Okayu's chest heaved as she caught her breath, groaning at the spiking pain; she'd never been much of a runner.

Korone began taking slow, deliberate steps towards Okayu. "It's true, you know. Sort of astounding, isn't it? Considering that they only make up 12 to 13% of the population."

"K..koro-san... I'm really sorry for pulling that prank on you back there... I didn't know-"

Korone's hand lurched forward and slammed Okayu's neck against the wall. She winced and pawed weakly on Korone's, mewling faintly. Korone continued to monologue, maintaining an agonizing focus on the cat's trembling eyes that begged for mercy as she did so.

"It's even more astounding when you consider that the bulk of black men committing these murders are probably 18 to 40." It was like she didn't just run half a block; how did she do it? And what the fuck was she talking about?

"Koro-san... wha-"

Before Okayu could finish her sentence, Korone, without warning, shifted her entire mass up against her and grabbed Okayu's jaw with both hands. She began to forcefully kiss Okayu. Even though she was still catching her breath, Okayu couldn't resist; her heart began to beat like crazy, and she felt a flash of hotness from her very core, radiating out into her extremities. She whimpered as Korone intensely made out with her, forcing her tongue deep within Okayu's mouth. After what seemed like an eternity, Koro-san finally pulled away, leaving a stream of spit and drool connecting them both. She grinned wildly as Okayu panted heavily.

"That's an estimated 6 to 7 percent of the population, Okayu. That means around 7% of Americans are committing around 50% of all the murders." She took Okayu's sleeve and messily wiped away the wetness on her lips and cheeks. Okayu just stood there, filled with a mixture of awe, consternation, lust, and fear. Korone's face suddenly turned cloudy, and shot Okayu a look that froze her in place and sent shivers down her tail. "Don't make me do this again."

And just like that, Korone turned away and started skipping out of the alleyway, happily rambling about lunch plans the shopping they needed to finish. Okayu timidly started to follow the dog once again. She wasn't sure what just happened, nor was she even close to untangling the mess of emotions she was feeling. She shook her head as they walked together into broad daylight. What a girl she was...

Korone terrorizing the human in his small small human cage

small small human cage!

>rolling out the special guests...
y-yabe....

>>808608
Everything you see now is in your mind.
You're currently suffering from a severe head trauma caused by another Korone's tantrum, resulting in beating you up harder than usual.
V-tubers are just a way your brain reflects on your life you've lead, Korone being in the middle of it all.
Your mind perceives her as the cutest one, because when you first met her, you thought of her like that.
Your vision of Korone's innocent charm slowly start cracking beneath the memories of mental and physical abuse you've experienced after marriage.
Those copypastas about her beating you over forgetting to cook dinner? Those are just pieces of your detoriating memory of real events.
Breaking the cute girl archetype and talking about cutting fingers, torture and gore? Deep down you know she's dangerous, so her sweet facade crumbles, but you just shrug it off, just like all those red flags you've noticed but chosen to ignore before getting into this abusive relationship.
So you're lying there on the kitchen floor, unconcious, living in a hallucination made out of denial and beatings you had to accept. You need immediate medical help, but Korone's very unlikely to help you, probably being halfway through another glass of whisky already as your brain cells cease to function. The only way you can cope with this is just to indulge into the vision your mind has made for you, because even as sad as donating to v-tubers can get, going back to the hellhole you used to call "another Monday afternoon" is far worse option.
Sleep tight, Anon.