Back with more animation.
Lossless version: https://mega.nz/file/vlQHHQJB#6TrWoFstO6-W8ZxDi4so_txovriEKecjuQn6UnlTkr4

Some random idea I had.

I draw on this site https://www.pixiv.net/artworks/90461498

Oh sweetheart, how unfortunate. Luck does not exist in the underworld, in the catacombs forsaken by God, with their odious flowerless thorns, but in your case, I can only say that you were cursed for no reason. And here is your demon, right in front of you.

The boy does not understand what is happening. Unaware that he had been lured into a trap, a moment of carelessness sealed his fate: demonic claws dragged him from the light and the earth sucked the youth into his grave. Undeserved abuse and unjust violence, injuring a seedling so beautiful made my hybrid blood boil with delight. I can smell confusion and fear, vibrating in blue royal blood. Terror panted through his throat. Time becomes insignificant in a dark and cold room, in the darkness that is only found under two layers of worlds. I can see in the blackness, my eyes do not shine and my breathing is silent, but without a doubt he knows that I am there.

"Please... I beg you..." The boy pleads to the void, to the nothingness. "Who are you? I didn’t do anything."

Babbles, high-pitched and trembling voice, a heart squeezed by fear spewing his last hopes. I snap my fingers and the dungeon lights up with a breath of fire over the candles, pinches of flames shining on three red dots on the boy's glassy irises. His long hair shimmered with beautiful platinum strands over his shoulders. He lifts his head and his large fawn eyes meet mine, his complexion so pale that bruises were already beginning to tinge his face with red and purple flowers. His slender wrists were bound to two rings of steel welded to the armrests of the chair, his ankles shackled, his thin pink lips parted without being able to blurt out more words, choking on muffled sobs; a display of sheer horror.

The boy convulses and leans his chest forward, vomiting a single spurt of yellow bile. The liquid splashes on the stone floor, echoing off the four walls and into my eardrums. Explanations are a waste of time, anticipation is a crucial prelude to rituals, and Lilith, the chained and captured prince, a caged wild bird, begins to understand his hopeless plight.

“Please,” Lilith coughs and chokes on the acidity coating his throat, two black tears dragging his eye liner down his cheeks, and the chains of steel rattled around his trembling body, “have mercy.”

There is no oxygen in the underworld. His lungs contract and expand his silk covered torso, royal figure of pure innocence. The corners of my lips stretch my cheeks into a wide smile. My black leather boots shorten the distance between two opposites, soles stepping on the puddle of puke. The boy's entire body flashed bright colors, a distorted and undulating space over the contour of his body, golden eyes that shined in a way only I could appreciate; the art of volatilizing the soul and its magic, the core of life in its most divine expression, forcing it out of the mortal abode to capture it was a heinous sin, only possible through inducing pain, fear, and unbearably overwhelming feelings. A violation that was unforgivable even by the king of hell himself. The God I must betray… My doom is in front of me, wearing white garments adorned with lamé flowers. But in the end all will be forgiven.

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https://flockmod.com/r/mainstream
lets draw guro on flockmod

Humans are machines for repeating mistakes, forgetting lessons, and splurging everything within reach. I, in my position as a humanoid idiot, wasted time and energy in an infinite waterfall, in which all the rivers of the world came together and the water made a spectacle of its fall, destroying everything in its path. That waterfall is my wasted life. The bastard in front of me is a rotting carcass floating in my murky waters. He couldn't have asked for a more undignified and abhorrent way to die. At some lost hour of the night, without any witness to his life or death, murdered by a madman like me.

My dick had been erect since I wrapped my shoelaces around the man's robust neck. Every second after that had been pure ecstasy in the most spiritual sense of it, with this man twice as big as I choking on his own constricted tissues, by a surprise attack, from behind, unprovoked. Muffled cries, sharp and stabbing whimpers; I could feel his suffocated pulse throbbing through the elastics and heard the last beats of his heart, all under a gaze that expressed pure terror, eyes present at that moment, perhaps as they had never been; I saw the light of his life leave his pupils, which were now like two hollow gray marbles. The electric shocks running through my spine with each struggle brought me to the brink of orgasm, but the asshole decided that his heart should stop beating just before I could get some relief.

I dragged the corpse into my room, locked the doors, and got dazzled by an exquisite vision of death. Saliva bubbled out of the corners of his lips, his narrowed eyes communicated nothing but absence, his arms and legs sprawled on the floor... with that facade, an immaculate black tuxedo, gold wristwatch, short brown hair that still kept order, and a complexion so handsome and dignified, it was an intoxicating contrast. My home, a single room with moldy walls, a dusty gray cement floor, will be the place of his funeral and cremation.

First I undressed him. I undid the buttons, my breath was getting heavy, I loosened his tie, unzipped his pants and mine, his bare chest was a blank canvas, it was two in the morning, my nails were long and chipped, a siren sounded in the distance, far away from me. First I bit him. I bit into the silky skin of his neck, I heard and felt tendons bending under my teeth, the salty, acidic taste of his sweat permeating my tongue. I sink my teeth into his flesh, his skin is elastic and my teeth aren't sharp enough to break it, but prominent purple marks tell the tale. I throw myself on top of the corpse and I bite again, this time letting a violent wave of lust force its way into my jaw, like a wild dog, and liquid as tasty as it is indescribable mixes with my saliva, gelatinous clots, of the sixth flavor. I felt my penis twitch against his abdomen, that was losing heat but absorbing it back from me.

Oh Mother. How I miss the warmth. They always get cold, I'm the only one with a warm heart. I raise my head and stare in awe at his postmortem expression, so maddeningly impersonal. Who can imagine that behind those eyes there were feelings and energy. This man didn't deserve what I did but no one could help it. Nobody can help anything. I'm just searching for warmth and they never want to give it to me. I spit a mixture of phlegm and blood on the floor next to the corpse, get up, and walk to the kitchen.

What can be said of a mother that regrets her marriage? She lives her days in resignation, day after day of pure misery, remembering the past is agonizing because she only wants to change it, she regrets having sex with a foolish and unpleasant man and locking herself in an emotional and financial prison . That son, the recycled product of a wasted life, hated by his own mother, what excuse could he make? The ultimate waste, a child that was wanted at first but cursed be the moment of his birth after a few decades. Excuses? For whom? For the corpse in my room? My fingers grasp the wooden handle, a thread of steel, descending in a scathing edge and icy to the touch, cuts through the man's belly, penetrates his organs with viscous fluidity and in a single swing of my wrist the knife blade slices through his abdomen. Pale and beautiful. Red on white. I reach into the incision and grab a slimy lump of matter just like mine, bite, chew, and swallow.

Love. I feel love filling me up and overflowing. It’s an exhilarating, vibrant and living feeling. I put my hand back in and grab, force, stretch, twist, break. The taste becomes my reality, it's the only thing I feel, I can't see or hear anything. The place was starting to get dirty, my arms were red down to the elbows. There is a comforting warmth at my core. His face looked so peaceful. I lean in and kiss him. Cold lips, my tongue traces his teeth and the inside of his cheeks, delicious.

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schoolgirl needs someone to love her, even if it hurts.

This is an exerpt from my new story, available at https://denkira7.gumroad.com/l/buouis

In the fantasy world of Belial, a young Princess is looking forward to her royal wedding. When a charming, half-elf barmaid seduces her Prince, the ruthless girl will make her pay for it dearly.

Cover made by Demon-Man
Milu wakes up, yet again. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re entire body is constantly teetering on the verge of sexual climax. Her heart is always alert, pumping blood into that dreaded thing that has sprouted between her legs. Her face is permanently flushed with a wave of self-produced heat. The young elf knows this to be highly abnormal, but can’t pinpoint why. She always considered herself a generously sexual person, but her current state is way more intense than any “heat-wave”. This is clearly pathological. Something is very wrong. She believes her permanently lustful nature has to do with the transforming alchemy performed on her genitals.

But lust dehydrates you. She needs more water. In her tiny room, it’s not too hard to keep track of her water bowl. She crawls a few feet towards the opposite longer wall. It’s always somewhere there. As she crawls on all fours, her tits sway from her chest, her nipples sometimes grazing the dirty floor and adding to her stimulating frustration.

She also used to feel her hair sway on her back and her sides, as she crawled. But after Princess Jessica’s last visit, a few days ago, their length is considerably shorted. Jessica had opted to give the elf an improptu haircut with her blade, Milu’s long, beautiful red locks annoying the Princess with their beauty. Now, Miluvae’s red hair barely reach the nape of her neck, cut crudely and unevenly.
The blinded woman slows down her crawling, sensing she’s very close to the wall now. She edges her head further and further until her forehead makes contact with hard stone. Now she just has to follow along the wall until she finds the bowl. Miluvae’s stump arms operate much like front-legs nowadays, but the girl currently uses them to blindly feel the air until they finally make contact with a tin object.

She has painfully learned by experience that she cannot pick up the bowl in order to drink. She had spilled her day’s worth of water trying out that method. That was a rough, thirsty day for her. Ever since, she has found the safer approach, lowering her head over the bowl, sticking her lips on the surface of the water and sucking in to clench her thirst. There’s not much left, the girl realizes, as her lips touch the metalic bottom of the bowl. But her lips are dry, chafed. Just one more gulp, she tells herself.

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This is a small excerpt from my new story, which you can find at https://denkira7.gumroad.com/l/cvdam

Cover made by Dr. Benway.


Taking away her hair seemed to only be the start for Elena. That pretty slut only had her looks to show for in this world. It would be “interesting” to see what was left of her if you took that away. At least that’s what Elena told herself. The 37 year old woman failed to see how much her deep insecurities about her own beauty played a factor in this course of action.

The surgeon’s field of work would certainly come in handy with her plans. Plans she never shared with her slave-sibling. Elena wanted to hit 4 birds with 2 stones. In Elena’s eyes, Lola never had anything of merit to say. It was only mundane, shallow things: fashion or stupid gossip of friends and celebrities, rinse and repeat. As for her actual voice, it was feminine and seductive, just the right kind of high pitch, but not too high. It’d be a pity if she couldn’t lure men in with her flirtatious laughter or more importantly, with words that made their imagination run wild.

Even muffled and gagged, Elena was getting tired of her sister’s annoying yapping. It would have to go.
The second thing that would go was Lola’s feet. Well, not all of them; Elena needed the bitch to be able to stand and walk. But the pretty parts, the attractive parts. Unlike Elena’s chubby toes, Lola’s were perfectly pedicured, slim, delicate. Lola had even gotten some cash for her “admired” feet. Elena hadn’t forgotten how bad she felt when Lola boasted about selling photos of her sexy feet to about a dozen guys online.

If only to confirm her thought process, cutting off her toes would drastically hinder the girl’s attempts at running away, should an opportunity ever arise. She “needed” to do this, to ensure her own freedom. Lola was not gonna like these alterations one bit, but that paid no factor in Elena's decision.

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I started my Pixiv account the last year and I didn't care about tags since I was just posting things for fun (and the fact that you can only use 100 tags didn't help), so I used just a few words. Then I saw that people are actually interested in my account and I'd like to use better tags from now on. Since my pc is broken and I can't play anything, these evenings I'm browsing TONS of Pixiv images and saving the most used tags for each kind of pics (hanging, strangulation, drowning, etc) and I found out that I never used most of them. What are the tags you usually use for your works?

Come draw or chat together!
https://flockmod.com/r/mainstream

Hello gurochan, last iteration had a very useful thread right in /art/ for sharing artists that accepted guro commissions, lets help make a new one, it would be very helpful for peeps looking to pay for guro commissions (and for artists here to advertise themselves).

A potential format you could follow is this one: share an artist name that you know would be ok with guro commissions, their personal page (twitter, pixiv, deviantart, etc..), their rates or an estimation and optionally some notes like if they specialize in one specific kink or if you know they are very trustworthy

I'll start this thread with an artist:

Snipermare:

https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/13517769

a single fully colored character is around 60 usd

classic artist for guro commission, accepts almost any kinks and works fast

this is pretty specific, but any pics of girls getting punched so hard they pee/poop?

I do requests for anyone, just nothing complex, i can not draw naked people very well so advice would be nice

manjjitnyeo

hey, I'm that one guy from /kaki/ and one of the guro-tan contestants, thought I'd actually get posting here

was a bit scared to post this first one, but then I remembered nobody here gives a shit

feel free to request things, I don't have much on my hands atm

Kids Gamera (or Yuta_AGC) tweeted a polling if he wants to share scat content on his NSFW blog.
https://twitter.com/HlJicchan/status/1438303555819954180

Q&A:
>who?
He's a very talented traditional/digital Japanese artist that draws a lot of Splatoon art and some western-related content. He's a huge westaboo as well.
His "nudity practice blog" is where he shares his NSFW art for leisure. It used to be a locked blog, but he opened it as soon as he wanted more people to see his stuff.
He later on started to share his enema art where either the girl shits liquid or something gelatinous matter, which gotten a good reception. That was when the scat question started to arose...

>Okay cool! and Uh...that's a very massive voting difference...
Yeah, it's very bleak. But this would only matter if we're not speaking up on the matter.
We need to at least RESPECTFULLY ask him to share on a different public platform.


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btw is there any way to know if youre posting a duplicate

more guro at scrolller com/r/guro

I currently have no internet and really itchy hemorrhoids, so I drew an /f/'d up chick on lined paper. Posting this at a burger king bathroom. Draw your own groovy /f/ artwork.