/vt/ - Virtual Youtubers

>>3235459

TFW you have weird, kinky S&M sex with the duck and then she spends her next zatsudan talking about it and making jokes with her subatomo

>>3235566
What kind of jokes would she make?

>>3235459
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5N1munYDnI


>Suddenly Pekora remembered that fateful night
>The night that her best friend betrayed her trust
>Miko and Pekora are sleeping next to each other in separate futons
>Suddenly Miko whispers: "Pekora...I..."
>Pekora being a sperglord says nothing
>"I've always loved you Pekora, in fact every waking moment I lust for your bunny cunny"
>"Please let me make love to you.."
>Pekora's sperglord mind starts racing she has no idea how to react to this because she's superstraight and hates gays
>awkwardly mutters "O-Ok"
>Miko is overjoyed
>Miko opens Pekora's legs and starts eating her out
>Pekora starts moaning
>Pekora's body is enjoying it but deep down she feels this is wrong
>"Mikochi, stop. I changed my mind"
>Miko starts aggressively fingerbanging Pekora
>Miko whispers in Pekora's ear: "shhhh just let it happen, it'll feel good in a moment."
>Pekora doesn't understand why she's feeling pleasure, she's not attracted to women
>after a few minutes of fingering Pekora, Miko presses her shaved pussy against Pekora's hairless bunny cunny
>Pekora feels a wet sensation enveloping her crotch
>She realizes it's Miko's love juices
>The feeling of Miko's hot skin rubbing against her clit is making her incredibly wet too
>She looks down and the entire futon under them is soaked in their nectar
>They scissor
>Suddenly Pekora cooms
>She tries her hardest to stay quiet but lets out an incredibly load moan
>Miko is overjoyed and french kisses Pekora
>The taste of her own juices mixed with Miko's saliva make her nauseous
>Miko embraces Pekora and falls asleep next to her
>Pekora is wide awake the entire night and is disgusted with herself
>Morning comes and Miko wakes up and kisses Pekora on the cheek
>"I love you Peko-chan"
>Miko is the happiest Pekora has ever seen her
>Pekora just acts like nothing happened
>Pekora goes home and showers for 5 hours straight
>Ignores Miko's calls and discord messages for months on end
>Suddenly Miko joins Pekora's mario party game
>ALL THESE MEMORIES COME FLOODING BACK INTO HER MIND
>HEART RATE SKYROCKETS
>IT'S A LIVE STREAM FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
>ACT LIKE EVERYTHING IS NORMAL

>>3235459
She looks happy.

shuba is for abuse

>>3235795
god that's hot

>>3235795
This is the real shit. Chuuba on chuuba is the best.

>>3235795
>Pekora goes home and showers for 5 hours straight

Imagine pekora spending every day after taking longer and longer showers but she can't ever wash away that feeling. Peko won't ever feel clean and safe anymore

>abusing chubas
broke
>chubas abusing other chubas
woke
>chubas abusing you
baroque

>>3236415
What about chubbas abusing other chubbas into abusing you

before i started watching hololive i saw some faggot posting with distorted pekora pics and he was a huge fucking faggot so i hated pekora from the start

>>3236582
yeah what a faggot, couldn't be me

>>3236582
ogey

>>3236522
I want to write a sequel to my shitpost where Pekora rapes Moona to cope with the fact that Miko raped her but I don't know how to start it.

>>3235795
good shit. if this counts as fanfiction, archive it to the writing general.

>>3235595
>"Ajimaru"
>"So yesterday, you know, I met with my boyfriend. He was choking me while we were doing it, and you know, he was doing it so hard, I almost passed out you know, hahaha, Yabakune?? oi! All of you guys out there, be more gentle with your girlfriends! eto.. I wonder how I would translate this for the kaigainiki"
>typing on google translate a bit
>"MAI BOIFURENDO, HE CHOKKU ME WHEN WE DO ECCHI. SUBARU ALMOSUTO DIE. BOIZU, DON'T CHOKKU TOO HARDO."
>Laughs some more

>>3236734
You can do it for me, too lazy to find the thread in the catalogue.

>>3236687
Start with Miko trying to sleep with Pekora again, but Pekora ends up enacting the gay panic defense and beats the shit out of her. Eventaully it she is on top of Miko, and loves the feeling of power she has over her rapist that she starts raping her and starts verbally abusing her as well, saying she never loved Miko, thinks all gays are degenerates, stuff like that. Miko is torn between the pain she is feeling from the beating and feelings of betrayal from Piko, while simultaneously reacting to the pleasure she is experiencing.

>>3236687
>Moona and Pekora finally have an off-collab
>After the stream they're hanging out at Pekora's house
>Pekora starts getting weird when it's time to sleep, having flashbacks to that night with Miko
>Moona goes to sleep only to be woken up by Pekora groping her
>Pekora's lust gets too much to contain and she holds Moona down until she finishes
Whether or not Moona comes to enjoy it or fights back I'll leave up to you, I'm not the writer after all.
>>3236776
I heard all of this in Subaru's voice, good shit anon.

The car, carrying a young woman streamer and her friend, I struck head-on. The friend, an assistant for Aqua with a Japanese company, was killed instantly, propelled through her windshield like a mattress from the barrel of a circus cannon. She died on the bonnet of my car, her blood sprayed through the fractured windshield across my face and chest. The firemen who later cut me from the crushed cabin of my car assumed that I was bleeding to death from a massive open-heart wound.
My chest was severely bruised against the steering wheel, my knees crushed into the instrument panel as my body moved forwards into its own collision with the interior of the car, but my only serious injury was a severed nerve in my scalp.
The same mysterious forces that saved me from being impaled on the steering wheel also saved the young streamer.
Apart from a bruised upper jawbone and several loosened teeth, she was unharmed. During my first hours in Tokyo Hospital all I could see in my mind was the image of us locked together face to face in these two cars, the body of her dying friend lying between us on the bonnet of my car. We looked at each other through the fractured windshields, neither able to move. Her friend's hand, no more than a few inches from me, lay palm upwards beside the right windshield wiper. Her hand had struck some rigid object as she was hurled from her seat, and the pattern of a sign formed itself as I sat there, pumped up by her dying circulation into a huge blood-blister - the triton signature of my radiator emblem.
Supported by her diagonal seat belt, Aqua sat behind her steering wheel, staring at me in a curiously formal way, as if unsure what had brought us together. Her cute face, topped by a broad, intelligent forehead, had the blank and unresponsive look of a madonna in an early Renaissance icon, unwilling to accept the miracle, or nightmare, sprung from her loins. Only once did any emotion cross it, when she seemed to see me clearly for the first time, and a peculiar rictus twisted the right side of her face, as if the nerve had been pulled on a string. Did she realize then that the blood covering my face and chest was her friend's?

The young woman was carefully steered from her car by an olive-skinned man in the midnight-blue uniform of an Arab airline pilot. A thin stream of urine trickled involuntarily between her legs, running down on to the roadway. The pilot held her shoulders reassuringly. Standing beside their cars, the spectators watched this puddle forming on the oil-stained macadam. In the fading evening light, rainbows began to circle her weak ankles. She turned and stared down at me, a peculiar grimace with tears on her bruised face, a clear confusion of concern and hostility. However, all I could see was the unusual junction of her thighs, opened towards me in this deformed way. It was not the sexuality of the posture that stayed in my mind, but the stylization of the terrible events that had involved us, the extremes of pain and violence ritualized in this gesture of her legs, like the exaggerated pirouette of a mentally defective autistic girl I had once seen performing in a Christmas play at an institution.


The draped body of the dead friend was lifted from the bonnet of my car. Seated like a demented madonna between the doors of the second ambulance, her friend Aqua gazed vacantly at the evening traffic. The wound in her right cheek was slowly deforming her face as the bruised tissues gorged themselves on their own blood. Already I was aware that the interlocked radiator grilles of our cars formed the model of an inescapable and perverse union between us. I stared at the contours of her thighs. Across them the grey blanket formed a graceful dune. Somewhere beneath this mound lay the treasure of her pubis. Its precise jut and rake, the untouched sexuality of this intelligent woman, presided over the tragic events of the evening.

>>3236776
kek'd at the google translate bit

>>3236687
>>3236846
Nvm I misread Moona as Miko. Ignore.

>>3237028
I know I entered the abuse thread and all, but what the fuck.....
I've been lurking these threads for awhile now and I have never really been disturbed by one of these stories until I read that. Its so oddly specific, realistic, and fetishized at the same time. If you were trying to weird people out, then good job. But if you genuinely enjoy what you just wrote, then seek meds and psychological treatment.

>>3236183
no

>>3235459
post vids of holos actually crying and having mental breakdowns

>>3237028
someone tldr this

>>3236734
Can you link me to writing general? Or some other anon reading this?

>>3236687
That sounds like literary gold. Where can i read the first part?

>>3240843
It’s in this thread higher up anon

>>3240874
Oh I thought anon meant he already wrote pekora raping mona and them he would write a sequel to that. The pekomiko up above was great

>>3240181
Anon gets in a car crash with Aqua and her friend. Friend dies, Aqua cries, anon gets a hard-on

>>3236687
Godspeed anon

>>3235459
Looks like she's enjoying it

My friend died yesterday in his last car-crash. During our friendship he had rehearsed his death in many crashes, but this was his only true accident. Driven on a collision course towards the limousine of the v-tuber idol, his car jumped the rails of the Australian Airport flyover and plunged through the roof of a bus filled with airline passengers. The crushed bodies of package tourists, like a haemorrhage of the sun, still lay across the vinyl seats when I pushed my way through the police engineers an hour later. Holding the arm of her chauffeur, the idol Kiara, with whom he had dreamed of dying for so many months, stood alone under the revolving ambulance lights. As I knelt over my friend’s body she placed a gloved hand to her throat.
Could she see, in his posture, the formula of the death which he had devised for her? During the last weeks of his life he thought of nothing else but her death, a coronation of wounds he had staged with the devotion of an Earl Marshal. The walls of his apartment near the film studios at the airport were covered with the photographs he had taken through his zoom lens each morning as she left her hotel in Austria, from the pedestrian bridges above the westbound motorways, and from the roof of the multi-storey car-park at the studios. The magnified details of her knees and hands, of the inner surface of her thighs and the left apex of her mouth, I uneasily prepared for him on the copying machine in my office, handing him the packages of prints as if they were the instalments of a death warrant. At his apartment I watched him matching the details of her body with the photographs of grotesque wounds in a textbook of plastic surgery.
In his vision of a car-crash with the idol, he was obsessed by many wounds and impacts — by the dying chromium and collapsing bulkheads of their two cars meeting head-on in complex collisions endlessly repeated in slow-motion films, by the identical wounds inflicted on their bodies, by the image of windshield glass frosting around her face as she broke its tinted surface like a death-born Aphrodite, by the compound fractures of their thighs impacted against their handbrake mountings, and above all by the wounds to their genitalia, her uterus pierced by the heraldic beak of the manufacturer’s medallion, his semen emptying across the luminescent dials that registered for ever the last temperature and fuel levels of the engine.
It was only at these times, as he described this last crash to me, that he was calm. He talked of these wounds and collisions with the erotic tenderness of a long-separated lover. Searching through the photographs in his apartment, he half turned towards me, so that his heavy groin quietened me with its profile of an almost erect penis. He knew that as long as he provoked me with his own sex, which he used casually as if he might discard it for ever at any moment, I would never leave him.
Ten days ago, as he stole my car from the garage of my apartment house, he hurtled up the concrete ramp, an ugly machine sprung from a trap. Yesterday his body lay under the police arc-lights at the foot of the flyover, veiled by a delicate lacework of blood. The broken postures of his legs and arms, the bloody geometry of his face, seemed to parody the photographs of crash injuries that covered the walls of his apartment. I looked down for the last time at his huge groin, engorged with blood. Twenty yards away, illuminated by the revolving lamps, the idol hovered on the arm of her chauffeur. He had dreamed of dying at the moment of her orgasm.

>>3240406
>>3017360
or >>3017360
idk why it never appears on the front page

>>3243663
fuck i linked it twice
well whatever

>>3237435
Lurk more.

>>3236776
Subatomos Cucked

>>3241210
Peak incel sociopath.

>>3242446