disgusting
Anyong haseyo (that means 'plan' in Japanese).

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@jowoimagines
disgusting
Anyong haseyo (that means 'plan' in Japanese).
Hi, umm👉👈🥺 I just really like your blog 🥰 *runs away and dives back into the ocean*
great, more pollution
Hello. Why is it you do not take this blog seriously? Why can you not enter my inbox, leave a decent, respectable ask, and then leave? Do you despise my existence, or just my sanity? Would you deny me my right to offer you the love and gratitude you deserve, my darling? My sweetheart? What is it you desire, if not a decent piece of prose or pipedream poetry to tide your tick-tocking, complex brain over for the few seconds you allow me to hold your attention? I just want to treasure you, and you deserve something nice, don’t you? But it is sabotage you are addicted to. It is the chase of it, the game that we humans make of love. Love, a most serious matter, one that has launched legions, launched battalions, launched poisons in the heart to infect the mind with madness. I just want beautiful things for you, my soft darling, as I know you are suffering, and yet you push me away like this. What has become of us? What has become of what we once had? I once admired everything you were, and yet I was blinded only by what you were not. My sight has returned, beloved, and with it comes a clarity in the heart where once your vapid, bitter poison bled. Come to bed, sweet thing. Worry not for how the space where I sleep next to you will be empty and cold by morning, for you will surely, most clearly have a better life without me. Instead of focusing on my love for you (and indeed, your desire to inflict harm upon me for some reason I cannot fathom), you may flourish into the powerful creature you were always destined to be. - Yours devotedly, Mod Sable.
“Wow.” Joseph laughed softly to himself, throwing that ass in a circle, and doing so at speed. “I sure am d*mmy th*cc.” Dio, who was spying on Joseph from the shadows of the hotel room, waiting to strike, had launched himself forward at just the wrong moment. The ass that had been so enthusiastically thrown in a circle clapped into his face, the force of two cheeks colliding with his cheekmeat killing him instantly, sending his obliterated corpse through the window and out onto the dusty roads below.
Jotaro Fucking Gets You Imagine
Masochist reader, I guess. - Mod Pitch
Jotaro’s bluenette (blue but sexier) orbs focus on Y/N’s, blank and empty. So empty, like hollow ice chips of ocean ice. So cold. Y/N can’t suppress the shudder that wracks their body, trembling with ocean ice from their orbs to the empty pit of their stomach. Y/N had realised their mistake as soon as they said it out loud. They’d been joking, of course. This sexy cool dominant cool masculine top man Jotaro who was a notorious clingy bitch hater had fallen for only Y/N. It was destiny, he’d never fallen for any other clingy bitch, but Y/N had been special. “Jotaro’s Fucksexy Hotpocket” had been their twitter handle, and usually he would hate them for their cringy thirst, but... there had been a connection this time. And yet that connection had all been a lie, he thought. It was his first thought of the week. You see, reader, dearest reader (Mod Pitch pats Y/N’s eyelids and it feels good and comforting) he didn’t pick up on Y/N’s sarcasm. He’d only heard the words, blunt and piercing, more piercing than his chipping seasalt water eyes of ice orbs, and they’d struck him to his very core. Dolphins... lame? He scoffs, turning on his stiletto sharp heel, and swankily storms away, then turns again. He is only turning so his coat swings out in a dramatic swoop, and it is quite hypnotising. Y/N sees him approach and their knees tremble, thinking he was quite attractive as he approached. They were wrong, as Jotaro was most definitely quite lame, and hated them for their crimes of cringe. Love was not the feeling heating his blood, but a rage so great it had his appendix trembling. Y/N isn’t a stand user. They don’t see the great, beautiful apparition that is Star Platinum, and after that meaty purple fist connects with their handsome head, they reach a heaven so beautiful they can finally understand why all great people should some day pass on to the next world.
I’m suggesting to myself that I should follow this account when I log back in, thank you for your time-
You’re in her direct messages, and yet I am receiving passionate promises such as these in mine own, unbidden,
we are not the same.- Mod Pitch
Hit sixty-nine subscribers the other day. Thinking of doing something special. Would you like to see a follow forever, for me to actually answer all the prompts in the inbox, or take a request for some kind of photo edit?
- Mod Sable
Dio takes all of your blood then you die.
Is this a threat or a suggestion for an imagine?
- Mod Sable
Mod Pitch,
If you break my designated post format again by answering the ask directly instead of firmly, sensually inserting a screenshot of the ask into the upper folds of the post, I will put antifungal cream in five of your DVD cases.
Yours sternly, Mod Sable
Imagine being dio's dentist 😍😍😍 he got cavities
I love cute asks! - Mod Pitch
Dio squirmed in the dentist chair, looking up at Y/N with his red orbs orbily orbing into theirs. Y/N had been asked to do a checkup on their master Dio’s fine maw, but they’d found something terribly awry in all twelve of his teeth. Hesitant to be the bearer of bad news, they swallowed thickly before speaking up.“I… Dio-sama.”“Whrgh?” His plush lips couldn’t quite close around Y/N’s fingers that were stretching his mouth open to hunt around for naughtwaughty holes to plunge fillings into. One of his canines caught on Y/N’s fingers, cutting through the ten layers of latex gloves and leaving a gash, flesh parting and blood seeping quickly to the surface.Distracted from their admission that Dio had some seriously freakynasty cavities (probably because he was from old as dicks England and never learned what good hygiene was because he was too busy being a leotard-clad thot), Y/N let out a gasp at the pain. As soon as the blood hit his tongue, Dio’s jaw snapped shut, not hard enough to break anything but providing the delicious threat of it.
Y/N and Dio stared at each other, orbs widening into bigger orbs the longer the silence stretched between them. Then, before either could act on the promiscous orbish tension growing and thickening the air between them, one of Dio’s cavities swallowed Y/N whole with a wet, cracking ‘slorshpcricACK snrlurshpchkchkchkchkchkchk’.
Can I get a wholesome scenario of Jonathan doing wholesome things for S/O? Thanks!
Sorry, but we here at Tumblr Blog jowoimagines try to keep our imagines as in character as possible, so trying to write something like that would be going against our code of ethics and imagination. Thank you for the ask though. - Mod Pitch
I see you dislike the term 'dummy thicc'. May I propose the term 'ludicrously girthy' in its place?
You may try, but can you feel that? The stillness in the air around you? The way there is nothing watching you, I promise?
Yeah. Don’t let that stop you. You may try.
- Mod Sable.
Re: Blog Rec
Hello @ohjojo,
I see you mentioned this blog in a 'rec’, citing that we are a “good laugh”. Interesting. Step One is complete, your submission has been recorded and offered to the council for consideration. You know what to do. Kindest of regardigans, Mod Sable
Open Letter to The Person Sending in Asks Right Now, I am concerned. Please give me your bank account details. I am getting therapy because receiving your asks has been a direct cause of mental deterioration. These asks are scaring me. I am afraid. You are too, I know. Please.
Thank you, Mod Sable
Angsty Josuke Imagine
Oof! - Mod Pitch
“asdghfjkldasajkl;ds,” Josuke mutters in a scream.
“Please no,” y/n has time to plead, before Josuke’s thick meaty paw comes slamming into their head, knocking them out cold.
“WIG AHSJKSDJDSK.” Josuke thinks he’s murdered y/n, but instead of feeling guilty he feels a chilling fear. He doesn’t want to be caught; he’s too pretty for jail. “silence TOP,” he says, even as he realises... y/n is a top that has been silenced forever. He flees into the night, not knowing y/n is still alive.
The year is 2010 and y/n has a grudge. They’ve been hunting their ex-lover Josuke to settle the score since 1999. That’s a long time, but it’s a long grudge. Join us as Detective y/n struggles to balance their past, love life and job, who will come out on top?
(or, the crime AU imagine nobody asked for. Not good with summaries, just read).
Cute Narancia x Reader Imagine
I don’t want to thanks! - Mod Pitch
Narancia walks up behind y/n, a slim XP-55 with attitude even if it’s a little clumsy. Just a simple plane that’s not like the other planes. “Your so cute,” he hums happily, closing his eyes and stroking their fine, confusing empennage. His buff little manlet chest shivers in anticipation as he climbs into the cock. pit. and continues to stroke their yoke. Like an egg, gentle but consuming.
“It’s my first time, p-please be gentle,” y/n doesn’t say because they’re a plane. The intent is clear anyway, and Narancia gives a shy little grin, slowly bringing two fingers to his mouth. He sucks on them, then runs them over the dials in front of him.
“I’ve wanted this four to long,” he sighs. He’s so dumb. So fucking dumb. Y/n doesn’t buck their hips in response to the cooling non-sensation of saliva on their panels that have no nerve endings and no consciousness to comprehend the sensation of touch.
Narancia doesn’t know how to work a plane, though. Y/n’s wheel catches and both you and he are flung of the runway, taken over by flames (of passion).
I've never been a religious person until I saw your blog. Thank you for blessing us peasants with your wise words.
Yes. Join us haha :-] I could love you. I could show you the kind of love the new age knows only to dream of, and that the times of old could never have imagined. Thanks for the ask.- Mod Pitch
PASSIONE PEENGI HCS
Oooh! - Mod Pitch
Giorno
7 inches, slightly springy, dragon heatstring core donglerino.
Bruno
6ish inches but he rolls it up like a fruit roll-up because it’s really thin. His pongydongledinger is an anomaly, but he manscapes to a bob to match his hairstyle.
Abbacchio
Impotent, 2.5 inches soft.
Mista
Look at those pants; he’s hiding something, like it’s fucking gift wrapped. At least an 8-inch peengyweengy easy, but no bigger than 10. Does not know personal grooming, do not approach.
Fugo
His testosterone off the charts so you’d think he’d have a huge dinglepingledongerkong but he doesn’t because if he did you’d see it through the many many holes of his thotty outfit.
Narancia
Limitless dinglehongus.
Trish
An assortment of very creative strap-ons that strike fear into the hearts of even the most wangiest of lovers.