Figured id try and revive this thread
Name : Jacob
Age:13
Personality:timid
Appearance:see picture
Apparel: naked
Consent: no to sex no to death
Type of death: burned at the stake for disobeying his father
Setting: a small town the 1800s. The law states that any child over the age of 13 can be volunteered to be put to death by their parents Jacob disobeys his abusive single father and because his dad is a highly respected member of the community he is sentenced to a slow and agonizing death being burned at the stake. Despite his terrified pleas for his life Jacob is burned alive in front of a raucous jeering crowd in the town square.

Since it's been over a month, revival time ad infinitum.

Name: Claire Burton
Age: 11
Description: Appearance as pictured. She is an easygoing girl who likes to live a casual life, with no understanding of nudity and the etiquettes surrounding it. She loves to go to public spaces in mini bikinis, maybe naked if dared.
Type of Death: Strangulation/Drowning/Unseen murder
Scenario: Claire is seen wading through the water in her mini bikinis as she readies for a swim, not knowing someone(or something) has taken interest in her.

>>7451
Claire always loved swimming, she felt free when all she had to wear was a mini bikini, the fresh air breezing past her skin felt soothing and when the waves floated past her, it was the best feeling she could ever ask for. So it's no surprise that she was once again at the beach wearing her famed bikini. She gathered those previously mentioned feelings and prepared to go swim not knowing that a pair of eyes were following her, and they had been for a long while now. Those eyes showed an intense lust for blood. Those eyes watched her every move, her every change in body movement and most importantly every bit of her bikini slipping to reveal more skin. Claire managed to pick up a stalker who has been watching her for weeks, he knew everything there was to her, of course he knew where she lived, but he also knew each little detail about her life at home and even in school. He loved watching her, but he always kept his distance, except for today. Claire was finally ready to swim and she didn't hesitate, her feet lifted off the ground as she ran towards the water, her stalker following behind, blending into the crowd. Once Claire left the eyes of the other people and dissappeared behind some rocks, her stalker of course went with her and that's where he was able to lunge at her and wrap his hands around her sweet throat and squeeze it shut. Her eyes opened in up to show many different emotions, but they all shared one thing. Fear. She was scared and didn't know what to do, she couldn't defend herself, she never had a need to, so she was weak against his strength. Glistening tears were streaming down her face as she tried begging her stalker with her eyes, but all her attempts failed. She held on for a good few short minutes until she finally went limp and the stalker was able to do what he wanted with her.

Name: Chara
Age: 12
From: Undertale
Type of death: Decapitation
Scenario: Chara gets decapitated by a boy her age who followed her into an alleyway and then proceeded to fuck her corpse and head.

In the streets of the Underground, Chara and Asriel race around in the open, playing games and roughhousing, while Asgore and Toriel keep a close eye on their children. However, hidden in the shade of an alley, a bitter dog-like child no older then twelve watches Chara with a scathing glare.

Din gritted his teeth, barely able to keep his contempt under control as he watches the prince playing with the invader while the king and queen watch them with a smile. He couldn't understand, her kind had imprisoned them here in this hole, her kind had killed scores of their friends and family and people, her and her kind had taken everything from them, and Din knew that she would be just like the rest of them. So, why? Why had King Asgore and Queen Toriel taken in one of their sworn enemies as their own? Din could forgive Asriel, the prince was young, naive, and hadn't suffered from the war, but the King and Queen should know better. Asgore and Toriel had been in the war, they should know that it would have been better to kill the girl on the spot then let her presence put their people in further danger.

Din's body trembles with anger as Asriel and Chara play in the streets, laughing and having fun, and something snaps in him. Perhaps it's the realization that the royal family had truly betrayed their kind and had no intention of ridding them of the girl, or perhaps Din's own anger had become too much to keep locked away, or maybe Din realized he could have been the same, that maybe in another world he joined the pair, but Din knew the truth about Humans, they are heartless, bloodthirsty savages right down to their core, every last one of them.

Din walks out from his spot in the alley and follows Chara and Asriel as they play, keeping far enough back that no one notices them being followed. Din didn't really have a plan; he simply followed and hoped for an opening to finally rid the underground of its new infection.

Din keeps up tracking the family for some time, though he has no idea for actually how long. Then, by pure luck, Din hears the voice of Chara calling out, "Let's play Hide-and-Seek, you're it!". Toriel look like she is about to stop the kids, but before a word can get out, Chara has already run off. Asriel then covers his eyes and begins to count, while the Toriel frantically begin looking for their now lost child and her husband tries to ease her concerns with nonchalant laughter. However, Din had been keeping a close eye on the filthy surface dweller and knew where she had gone.

Din quietly caught up to the Dreemurr family and slipped down a cramp alley while Toriel and Asgore were busy looking another way, and Asriel continued counting. Din moves as fast and silently as he could down deep into the alley, well into the shadows where even stern eyes wouldn't know what to make out. Deep in and rounding a corner, Din sees a homeless-looking monster sitting in the middle of the alley, and the filthy fleshbag standing a few paces away from him. The Human takes a step towards the homeless monster, reaching into her pockets for something, and Din strikes.

Din pulls out a kitchen knife and runs at Chara, screaming, "YOU FILTHY, SOULESS, FLESHY, WHORE!", and thrusts it into Chara's neck. The momentum knocks both to the ground and Din hears the homeless monsters gasp and then begins running away, but that didn't matter. Din gets to his knees and stares down at Chara, already blood pours from her neck and soaks the ground and her cloths. Din grabs the handle of the knife and yanks it out before turning Chara over onto her back.

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Name: Jean Danielle
Age:11
Description: Jean is quite spicy for a girl her age, and likes older men. She is both sadistic and masochistic, and a bit of a brat.
Type of Death: Random murder.
Scenario: She is laying at home, imagining twisted scenarios as she games. Maybe playing with herself. She's home alone, and the door is unlocked. Unbeknownst to her, someone she pissed off hired a hitwoman to shoot her in the pussy, then kill her slowly. She barely "resists". Bonus points if they force her to play the game distracted, shooting her only when she dies in game.

Bump

JoeBobSlim does some fun ones on Pixiv :)

Thanks but i'm afraid i consumed most/all his stuff, anything more niche? also a bit more graphic?

bump

So because of how he talks, does that mean he secretly is a swiftie because he says he doesn’t like her music so for him that means he likes her music very confusing

This is the first time I've used thiswebsite

Welcome! Do you take requests?

This is so cooollllll keep going

"Feels different this year," Ginny muttered, rubbing her thumb along the edge of the parchment strip. The Great Hall was quieter than usual—no clatter of cutlery, no chatter bouncing off the enchanted ceiling. Just the rustle of students scribbling their names and the occasional sharp intake of breath.

Harry glanced at her, then at his own blank strip. "Different how?"

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe the way Filch keeps looking at the Goblet. Like he’s waiting for it to bite someone."

Across the room, Neville dropped his strip, fumbled to pick it up, and nearly knocked over a first-year in the process. A few stifled laughs rippled through the hall.

The Goblet flickered with an eerie blue flame as the last few students shuffled forward to deposit their strips. Harry watched as Ginny's fingers lingered over the edge before letting hers fall. Something about the way it vanished into the flames made his stomach tighten—no sound, no spark. Just gone.

"Ever wonder why it's always seven?" Ron muttered behind him, voice low enough that only Harry caught it.

Before Harry could answer, the Goblet erupted in a burst of emerald fire. Strips of parchment shot upward, spiraling like leaves caught in a whirlwind before arranging themselves in a neat line midair. The hall held its breath as Dumbledore stepped forward, his wand tracing the first name.

Comment too long, view post No.30210 to see the full comment.

Ginny stepped forward.

Ginny's stool wobbled as she stepped onto it—just once, a brief unsteadiness that made her freeze for half a second before she found her balance. The wood was smoother than she'd expected, worn down by generations of students. Absurdly, she wondered if this very stool had once held Flitwick during some long-ago Charms demonstration. The thought almost made her laugh, but the noose brushed the back of her neck like a spider's thread, and the impulse died.

Dumbledore's fingers were dry and cool as he adjusted the rope. It settled against her throat with deceptive gentleness, the coarse fibers catching on the fine hairs at her nape. When he cinched the knot, Ginny felt it press against her carotid artery—a steady, insistent pressure that made her pulse flutter visibly beneath her skin. Behind her back, her wrists crossed automatically, the bones aligning as Dumbledore bound them with twine that smelled faintly of hay. The knot binding wasn’t cruel—just firm enough to hold, the knot tucked where her fingers couldn’t pick at it.

She didn't wait for the kick. Ginny inhaled deeply—filling her lungs with the scent of candle wax and iron and the metallic tang of Daphne's blood still drying on the flagstones—then hooked her toes over the stool's edge and shoved. The wood toppled with a clatter that echoed off the vaulted ceiling, but Ginny barely heard it. The drop was short, brutally so, just enough to snap her head back as the noose jerked taut. Her vision whited out for a second, her trachea collapsing under the sudden pressure, and when her sight returned, the Great Hall swam in and out of focus like she was viewing it through warped glass.

Her legs kicked automatically, her bare feet scissoring through empty air in frantic, uncoordinated motions. The muscles in her thighs stood out in sharp relief, quivering with the strain as she twisted against the rope's inexorable hold. Every thrash tightened the noose further, the hemp fibers biting into her windpipe until her breaths came in wet, ragged gasps that did nothing to fill her burning lungs. Six minutes in, her movements lost their violence, her kicks slowing to weak, spasmodic jerks that made her hips roll obscenely with each aborted motion.

Harry couldn't look away. Ginny's body was a study in tension—her shoulders straining against the bindings, her ribs flaring with each futile attempt at breath, the tendons in her neck standing out like cables under skin gone mottled and red. At minute eight, her entire body seized, her spine arching violently as a shudder ran through her from scalp to toes. Her thighs trembled—then parted slightly—as a slick, glistening trail of arousal trickled down her inner legs to drip onto the stones below. The scent of it—musky and warm and unmistakably Ginny—hit Harry like a physical blow, his cock twitching against his thigh in response.

Her final minute was agony. Ginny's body jerked in sporadic, uncoordinated twitches, her heels drumming against nothing as her oxygen-starved brain fired its last, desperate signals. When the last spasm passed—leaving her limp and swaying gently in the noose—her bladder released in a sudden, golden stream that pattered onto the flagstones beneath her. The sound was obscenely intimate, like rain on a tin roof, and Harry's erection throbbed in time with each droplet's impact.

Comment too long, view post No.30211 to see the full comment.

>>30210
>>30211

I'm sorry I've to say this, but this story was boring to me. With all the repetitions it seems to me it would be better placed at the AI-board. And like the first version it gives no real explanation ‒ beside "tradition" ‒ for what reason the executions take place.

There is still plenty room for improvements.

The first thing you’d notice about Minerva McGonagall wasn’t her stern expression or the sharp way her robes fell in perfect, unyielding lines. It was her hands. Long fingers, pale as parchment, with knuckles that clicked faintly when she flexed them. She had a habit of tapping them against her thigh in precise, measured rhythms, like she was counting down to something none of us could see.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was always loud, but that morning, the noise felt thicker, like the air itself was pressing against my eardrums. Draco Malfoy was laughing too loudly at something Pansy Parkinson said, his voice cutting through the chatter like a knife. Across the table, Luna Lovegood stirred her tea absently, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the enchanted ceiling, as if she already knew what was coming.

The platters of food vanished all at once, leaving the long wooden tables bare. That was when McGonagall stood. The room didn’t go silent so much as it *stilled*, the way a beast holds its breath before the kill. Her hands rested on the podium, those fingers splayed wide. She didn’t need to raise her voice.

“The Meat Lottery for tonight’s banquet,” she said, and the word landed like a stone in a pond. A ripple went through the students, shoulders tightening, eyes darting. Next to me, Ginny Weasley exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers digging into the table’s edge. McGonagall’s lips thinned. “As is tradition, seven names will be drawn. Those selected will report to the center of the hall immediately following the announcement.” She reached into the pocket of her robes, and the rustle of the parchment was obscenely loud.

The first name slipped from her tongue like a curse. “Daphne Greengrass.” A choked gasp from the Slytherin table, then silence. Daphne stood mechanically, her face blank as polished marble. Next was Luna Lovegood, who blinked once, then smiled faintly, as if she’d been expecting it. Hannah Abbott burst into tears before her name finished echoing, her sobs muffled by her hands.

Draco Malfoy’s name came fourth. His smirk faltered, then twisted into something ugly. “You can’t, ” he started, but McGonagall’s glare severed the protest midair. His throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing. Ginny was fifth. She didn’t move at first, just sat there, her freckles standing stark against suddenly pale skin. Then, with deliberate slowness, she pushed back her chair. The legs screeched against the floor.

When “Harry Potter” left McGonagall’s mouth, the hall erupted. Shouts, protests, Ron Weasley lunged to his feet, face purple. But Harry? He just closed his eyes, like he’d known. Like he’d always known. And then, then it was my turn. “Hermione Granger.” My own name sounded foreign, distant. The air left my lungs in a rush. Around me, students edged away, as if death might be contagious.

Comment too long, view post No.30495 to see the full comment.

>>30495

Once more boring.
No inspiration.
Everything repeating.
The most annoying are the 21 (in words: twenty-one) time specifications.

The whole story can be condensed into a few lines. I took a look at the fates of Daphne Greengrass (DG), Luna Lovegood (LL), Hannah Abbott (HA), Draco Malfoy (DM), Ginny Weasley (GW), Harry Potter (HP) and Hermione Granger (HG) and conflated them. Just read the bold lines, in between are only the lists of references.
Have fun.

The executions started with McGonagall kicking …
​ ​ ​ LL: Then, with a sharp jerk, McGonagall kicked the stool away.
​ ​ ​ HA: When McGonagall kicked the stool away, …

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>>19284
new work FP-11
https://www.pixiv.net/artworks/141950548

>>19284
EW01
https://app.unifans.io/posts/28d84b51cb1fe51987b1ff7e7c2de7b3

>>19569
EW02

Thanks for making these!

support me on SubscribeStar
https://subscribestar.adult/gnote

love the art my man but the faces look weird i understand the asthetic but they look like babies like a fat kid's face

>>46619
who gives a shit? lol. never seen an asian woman's face?

my bad

>>46619
>>46621
and thank xD

2

>>21279 Are you still active?

u got a discord?

>>22404
>>22346
>>21280
Please share your discord tags...

>>24682
Not willing to use discord, if you want to reshare session

>>21279
Do you have a teleguard or telegram?

Hi, man! Got impressed by your skills, want ask - do you read this?
https://necrobabes.darkfetishnet.com/kynk/captain/8bakers.htm
Might fit to your style.
Also maybe last of them shall be good too.
https://necrobabes.darkfetishnet.com/kynk/

We need more Drakboks in the world, his work is really good stuff. My only critique being I wish he'd go a tiny bit younger lol.

Could anyone make these same images but with the breasts not burnt?

Could anyone make these same images but with the breasts not burnt?

Bump

Could anyone make these same images but with the breasts not burnt?

yeah, I don't even get horny looking at it. Just depressed. I have a close attachment to characters I draw, so it figures I'd be upset subjecting something dear to me to this. So for a canonical continuation, she gets some pimpin robot arms and an eye that shoots lasers and kills her tormenters.

Hope y'all enjoy and get a wicked goon off though.

>>46262
Woah this piece is genuinely beautiful, reminds me of Aron Beauregard’s artwork in his books. anyone know the artist?

Do you take requests?

>>46482
i love his books my man