the-nasti-files

[the-nasti-files]

i guess i'll go fuck myself (skips away merrily)

[the-nasti-files]

[the-nasti-files]

Dancing With The Devil 💃🏻

@trinz.death on IG

[the-nasti-files]

[the-nasti-files]

unknown artist

[the-nasti-files]

need to kms

[the-nasti-files]

Carlos Schwabe (1866–1926) - “Bénédiction”, c. 1900

illustration for Baudelaire’s ‘Les Fleurs du Mal’

source

[the-nasti-files]

[the-nasti-files]

[the-nasti-files]

sry i wasn’t listening i was thinking about being manhandled

[the-nasti-files]

There’s two ends of the horror spectrum

[the-nasti-files]

babies

honies

pookies

tonight's high thots

ive been thinking about a little red riding hood type thing

yes?

naur?

lmk 👉👈

The forest had been loud with birdsong all afternoon, but now…

Now it was quiet.

Too quiet.

The path was barely a suggestion beneath your boots, moss swallowing the edges, damp leaves sticking to your cloak. You told yourself it was fine, the stories were only meant to frighten children, and you weren’t a child. Wolves didn’t walk on two legs. Wolves didn’t speak. Wolves didn’t—

A low growl rolled through the trees. Not near. Not far. Low enough you felt it in your ribs.

At first you thought it was a shadow. Then it moved. Eyes lit gold, and between the ragged edges of his breath you saw teeth, too sharp, too many.

“Lost, little one?” His voice was a rasp, a rumble that dragged over your skin. He started walking toward you without waiting for an answer. “Or did you come looking for me?”

You backed up a step, clutching your basket tighter. “Stay away—”

He laughed, a sound like stones grinding together. “Oh, no. Too late for that.”

The forest exploded into motion. You ran, cloak snapping behind you, breath tearing from your chest. Branches clawed at your face, your hood flew back, and still you heard him — claws raking tree bark as he leapt from trunk to trunk, growl swelling until it was everywhere.

Something hit you from behind. You went down hard, the basket spinning into the underbrush. A massive weight pinned you to the cold earth. Clawed hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in.

His breath burned against your ear.

“You smell afraid,” he growled, dragging the tip of his nose along your jaw, inhaling like he meant to pull your very soul into him. “But there’s something else under it. Sweet. Tempting.”

You tried to twist away, but he effortlessly dragged you back into the heat of his body. His claws hooked the edge of your cloak and ripped, fabric shredding.

“I warned them,” he murmured, tongue swiping over the curve of your neck before teeth closed, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make your pulse kick. “Told them what I’d do if I ever caught you in my woods.”

You whimpered, the sound muffled as his hand — massive, hot, furred along the knuckles — covered your mouth.

“Shhh, little red,” he crooned, hips pressing forward, the solid heat of him leaving no doubt of his intent. “Run’s over. Mine now.”

He bit down again, growl shuddering through both of you, and you realized the stories hadn’t been warnings.

They’d been promises.

yes? no?

(⁠;⁠;⁠;⁠・⁠_⁠・⁠)

[the-nasti-files]

sorry i started drooling when your shirt rode up i wanna paint your stomach with my tongue

[the-nasti-files]

it's ok to be horny! it's good to be perverted! your sexuality isn't shameful and the things that turn you on are good and should be celebrated!!! even if its weird!!!! especially if it's weird and fucked up!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK!

[the-nasti-files]

detail of "poppaea sabina" | school of fontainebleu, 17th cent.

[the-nasti-files]

"Wow you bruise easily" dude just fuck me already

[the-nasti-files]