dog—gone blues. (@meatjawed) header
dog—gone blues. (@meatjawed) profile picture

𝖘uffer ⠀does ⠀ ᵀᴴᴱ ⠀ 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 ⠀ crawling ⠀T꩜ ⠀ https://teapaw.org/t.co/vOAe9lfcLv

horror.
Joined January 2016
Photo by dog—gone blues. (@meatjawed)Photo by dog—gone blues. (@meatjawed)Photo by dog—gone blues. (@meatjawed)
𝗛𝗢𝗪𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 in s͟h͟a͟d͟o͟w͟s, living in a ᴸᵁᴺᴬᴿ spell; he finds his 𝖍𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 spewing from the 𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵 of 𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻.
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there are teeth marks on everything he loves.
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this is the time of night when the moonlight shines down, & we can reveal who we truly are within the darkest, most depraved of joys.
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the wolf——that fucking dog.
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cursed … always & forever.
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⠀ built like an old fence post: solid, weathered, rooted in dirt. shoulders take the hit and give nothing back. he turns fast, boots scuffing, and looks down at the thing that bounced off him like a june bug off a windshield. giving » ⠀
a pickpocket's misstep; ⠀ ⠀ shoulders collide with @meatjawed, ⠀ ⠀ taken nothing but bruising. ⠀ ⠀/ ⠀ ⠀ 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠. ⠀ ⠀ misfortune weighs smile to pout. ⠀ ⠀"walk with y' head outside your ass."
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⠀ « the empty—handed pickpocket the opportunity to backtrack, the good samaritan his mama raised. “what’d you say, boy?” ⠀
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⠀ “tellin’ fibs.” teeth sucked, scolding only to watch him pout. punishing nip of cheek fat / forgiving squeeze of waist, his wretched, sweet thing. soft like rot, spoiling on his tongue. “c’mon, baby.” already sitting up, steadying the » ⠀
only emitting a staggered, slurred little whine as his lips detach. an indecipherable complaint. he’d melted into the stained mattress. he’d forgotten he even had a body——a wretched, inked thing. something that only functioned to carry …
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⠀ « body dragged along with a palm splayed over back. he soaks the kisses up like a drought——head tipped, neck bare, a pleased rumble working out of his chest with every press of lips. “there’s a diner off the highway, ten » ⠀
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⠀ « minutes. i’ll buy you somethin’ hot.” ⠀
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if you take shots w no chaser you’d eat people idk
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beware of the wolf’s teeth, he’s known for snapping.
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cruising (1980) dir. william friedkin
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baby, i’ll do things to you i wouldn’t do to a farm animal.
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⠀ kisses tasting like tobacco and metal, all teeth and tongue. dog—like and delicious. a pleased rumble low in his chest, practically purring as he’s pressed down into the creaky mattress. catching lower lip betwixt dentin and giving it » ⠀
his body limp, adjusting to each grasp and drag of his limbs. straddling each side of the others hips. his body weight normally akin to a weighted blanket of sorts——he allows himself to fully relax on top. he can handle all of that. …
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⠀ « a good tug. they pass some time like that, reacquainting with the taste of each other’s mouths, before the rumble of a stomach has him drawing back. “y’hungry, doll?” ⠀
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Oh, I get it. So I'm the bad guy just because I'm the one hurting people with my unkind words and irresponsible behavior? I see how it is.
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 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀☾ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀@rotdogd⠀ ⠀ ⠀… 
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⠀ hands find the meat of his thighs, squeezing as he hoists the shorter boy against his chest. liquid hot under the weight of his lover, sprawl spilled across the gaudy floral bedspread like blood over linoleum tile——loose and » ⠀
feet pad along the old flooring, allowing himself to be tugged along, not protesting much——even when he’s abruptly tugged down until he fell forward. “𝑚𝑚𝘩𝑚——don’ fuckin’ make me get a damn dictionary.” mumbling as his lips mindlessly …
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⠀ « scarlet, face ruddied by the kisses scattered across it. lips find mouth and he meets them in kind, surging up to claim a real kiss. smiling into it. who needs words? ⠀
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