#I want this DILF to show me what that carrot do

[small-witch-big-hat]

It has come to my attention that some of you may be unaware that the anime Shangri-La Frontier has a bunny daddy voiced by Akio Ōtsuka.

And he SINGS.

[smuckersblr]

Clueless Part 1

Peter tapped his freshly manicured french nails on the marbled countertop. Italian music was softly playing on the stereo near the fridge, the TV in the living room across from where he stood was playing the muted news. Another attack in Manhattan taken care of by the red robot that everyone is calling IronMan.

Peter huffed and looked over the dieted food for his dad he had just packed for his lunch, and waited for the coffee to be done pouring. “Daddy! Hurry up you’re gonna be late for your meeting!” Peter’s dad, Tony Stark, was a world-renowned businessman/engineer.

And Peter was his ‘infamous child prodigy’, is what Dr.Strange, his dad’s close friend, likes to call him. Peter was the popular kid at school, the one who knew how to dress amazingly enough to be on the cover of ELLE with his famous everyday outfits, the kid that had all A’s and was on the honor roll each year and won many science conventions first place awards; and yet he was still known to be the most liked and admired at school.

Peter bit his glossed lips while examining his manicure, thinking about the dinner tonight that he had to go to with his dad, something about ‘linking up with old friends. Tony came into the room through the arch and was fixing his tie while looking at his watch.

“Pete don’t tell me you made that crap diet food for me today, I’m gonna have a long day of meetings and a burger already sounds amazing for lunch.” Peter scrunched up his freckled nose in distaste at the grease patty his father called heaven.

Peter poured his dad's coffee in a stainless steel coffee cup. “Daddy you know Dr. Strange said that it’s the best way to help if you want to live past fifty.” Tony rolled his eyes and took the packed food and coffee cup anyways. “So now you're going to listen to whatever that man tells you?” Peter pecked his dad’s cheek, rubbing away the gloss smudge with his thumb with a fond smile.

“I’m gonna listen to any man with a Bachelor's degree daddy.” His dad smiled fondly and hugged his son. “That’s my boy.” And before Tony left through the archway to the foyer he turned around and looked Peter up and down.

“You and the girls plan something for after school? Because you know we’re going out tonight kid.” Peter looked down over his clothes for the day. A Versace dual print button-up that reached down midthigh with white shorts. And a white Gucci belt to cinch his waist to show his figure and his white leather Prada pumps with his Speedy Bandouliere 25 to tie everything together.

“We’re matching today and it was Nat’s turn to pick the designer, and I know dad all you’ve been talking about is this dinner.” Tony hummed and sipped his coffee, rolling his eyes at his son’s attitude but, never-the-less hugged Peter and both walked out to the front of their round-about cobbled driveway and both went into their respectable vehicles.

----------

Once Peter rolled up to Natasha’s giant house with the same green patch of luscious grass and beautifully cut bushes around the property with giant gates at the entrance, Peter honked twice, and while waiting he checked himself out in his bedazzled hand mirror.

His curls for the day were in wet-styled auburn curls and his eyes were glossed with a wet shine and blush blended perfectly into his tan skin from his dad’s last business trip in Mexico. Peter smiled at the enchanting memory of mimosas being handed to him on the beach with the sound of waves crashing in the background and oiled pure white skin under the blazing sun and the sound of beautiful Latino music playing at the beach’s bar behind him.

Peter remembered the dream-like Hispanic men lounging around him in swimming shorts and glorious brown skin and bright white smiles. His dad finally enjoyed his time without work or stress at the bar, smiling and laughing with beautiful Latina women.

Peter snapped out of his loving memory when Natasha jumped in the front seat of his white topless jeep.

“Hey Pete, hurry so we can get to Shuri’s house, I don’t want to hear her complain about being late to class.” She rolled her eyes lovingly and looked at herself through the front seat mirror and pushed up her curls.

He snorted at Nat's teasing and pulled away from the curb. “You know that outfit will catch Steve’s eye right?” She looked me up and down with a devilish smirk on her red painted lips, Peter always did admire how she pulled off red so damn well.

Peter looked over at her once they hit a red light. “Every outfit I wear catches that man’s eye, Nat.” Then another burst of laughter came out from both of them.

Once Peter pulled up to Shuri’s house, he already knew she was gonna give them hell for the time.

Peter absentmindedly looked at the time on the jeep, only ten minutes ‘till the bell rings, they’ve got plenty of time. Shuri came in the car with a flourish of the door slamming shut and a huff that came from her lips. While Peter was pulling away from the curb he looked in the rearview mirror and smiled at Shuri.

“What’s got you in a fit S?” Shuri flung a strand of her box braid behind her shoulder in annoyance and sulked in the back with her Prada handbag clutched in her lap. “T’Challa was actin’ lame this mornin’, only because I asked him why he was acting out last night with his friends,” And once Shuri started talking about her brother, both Natasha and Peter tuned in, even when they arrived in the school’s parking lot, the deets on T was always juicy.

“Get this guys I overheard T talkin’ about you Pete and how he’s surprised your daddy hasn’t sent you to a catholic school already because he and his friends think you're easy, then somehow that turned into a convo on how he would totally--and I quote--"Tap that ass".” She said this conversationally while all three of them were walking towards the school with their heels clicking and bags in hand.

Peter gawked and Nat let out a snort. “Okay, but doesn’t he know that Pete is a total virgin?” Nat brought up while Peter was minutely speechless for the first time in forever and then he snapped back to life. “What a skeeze.'' Both girls nodded in resolution and then they split for class once they got into the school’s hallway.

———

At lunch Peter walked to his and the girls' table in the middle of the outside cafeteria with a lime popsicle in one dainty hand, sucking the tip of the icy treat while soaking in the glances he got from his peers. Peter sat with a flourish and waved at the girls in greeting.

“Pete whatcha doing tonight I wanna see if you could go shopping with us.” Wanda leaned forward with her chewing gum on one finger while she chewed on her apple slices.

Peter pouted, “Sorry Wand, I got this dinner thing with my dad and his friends tonight.” Wanda gave a humph and hunched her shoulders. “You know I find it weird how Pete’s dad is an actual DILF and his friends are just as fine.” Shuri brought up, which got the girls around the table nodding in agreement. Peter rolled his eyes and flipped Shuri off when she broke out laughing.

Lunch had just begun but usually, Steve would be right next to Peter with his macchiato in hand. “Looking for your boy toy?” Shuri swirled a baby carrot in the dollop of the ranch she only treated herself to once a month.

Peter grimaced and shook his head indifferently, sucking the treat back into his mouth with an eye roll from his friend's laughter. Peter knew that Steve had it for him and was at his beck and call even if he acted like he was just doing it to be nice.

Peter rarely felt guilty for using his crush to his advantage but he also explicitly told Steve that he wasn’t looking to date anyone. Besides his father would go ballistic on him, he distinctly told him he wasn’t allowed to date anyone, and I quote, ‘until you find a guy who has his own business that I can buy and make sure that I have control over him’.

Peter was drawn out of his thoughts when he realized there was a shadow cast over him. Peter turned and titled his head up, there standing was his saving grace in the hands of his best friend. “One almond milk macchiato with no foam and two shots of espresso for my very beautiful best friend, Peter Stark.”

Sam by Steve’s side made a face and looked at Steve hurt, “I thought I was your beautiful best friend.” Steve ignored him though and smiled beamingly at Peter’s plucked arched eyebrow. “You gonna give me it or are you also my handler.” Nat by his side snorted and shook her head. “Not until you look at my outfit Stark.” Peter rolled his eyes with an apathetic air to him.

Peter didn’t like playing Steve’s silly games, but he still wanted his coffee and he wanted it now. So he let his eyes roam up and down Steve’s body. A Classic Damier Pique polo and nice fitted dusty blue slacks. He wore a smirk on those lips every female seemed to love and his blonde hair was slicked back with a pair of black Gucci sunglasses on his head.

Peter furrowed his brows and glared at Natasha who was pointedly not catching his eyes. “Did Nat tell you we were matching with Louis today?”

“Just took a wild guess, cuz I know she knows what I like on you.” Peter rolled his eyes and feigned a vexed look. “You know I told you I can't have you flirting with me Stevie, I'm not allowed to date.” Steve shrugged his shoulders and handed over Peter’s drink.

“You know you can't keep me away from you, doll.” Sam scoffed next to him and shook his head, walking away from the situation and heading towards the benches where their friends stood.

“You better follow your only source of affection before he decides to not hold your hand anymore when your feelings get hurt.” Peter waved his hand in a dismissive way and turned back to the table.

Steve shook his head, even though Peter wasn’t paying any more attention to him. Sometimes Steve wishes he could just smack the sense into Peter that he would do anything to be with him. Maybe instead of a smack, it’d be a kiss.

----------

At Eleven Madison Park, Peter dined with his father, Rhodey, and Dr. Banner. The bright smiles and charisma felt like second nature to Peter, he was taught great mannerisms by his Nonna and Nonno when he used to stay at their condo in Malibu while his dad was out on business trips.

“Listen, all I'm saying Tony, is that Pete has the credentials to be a part of my branch.” Bruce held his hands up in surrender. Peter sipped the glass of champagne idly, pretending that he wasn’t the face of this conversation.

“Oh trust me, I know my genius son has the credentials to be a part of any big business. But I rather him not work for anyone,” Tony cut a piece of steak with vigor and popped it in his mouth.

“Besides he’s too much like me, he wouldn’t listen to you Bruce, he likes challenges.” Bruce laughed and shook his head, looking over at Peter with a smile.

“The kids gotta start somewhere Tones.” Rhodey pointed out with a raised brow, his eyes going over to Peter where he was cutting a sliver from his seasoned lamb. “Jeez, Rhodes you say it like my son can’t start out big.” Tony lifted his wine glass to his lips with a stubborn glint to his eyes, he always did get protective of his son.

“I never said that-” Rhodey was cut off by a phone's ringtone chiming. Tony grunted and pulled out his stark phone with an annoyed air to him. Rhodey looked over to Peter and gave a pleading look, “I never said that Pete.” Peter laughed under his breath and lifted his champagne flute towards Rhodey in a tribute to his faith in the man. “I know Rhodey.”

Rhodey smiled and saluted his glass back, sipping his white wine and looking over at Bruce trying to not grimace at his meal. “Whoever thought to themselves that, “oh yes lamb's tongue sounds like a great meal to serve” should be in prison.” that got Peter smiling wider and knocked the toe of his heel to Bruce’s shin lightly, playfully.

The rest of the dinner was spent with laughs and more teasing, but soon rolled into business talk like it usually trickled into with every event they go to. But before his dad started going on one of his rants on his current projects, Dr. Banner quickly set his wine glass down from lifting to his mouth and hurriedly said: “Maybe we shouldn’t get into details while Peter is still here?”. The words make Peter stop mid-bite and look up from his plate to see the shifty eyes of one Dr. Banner and Tony Stark. Rhodey seemed just as confused and paused in his own autopilot of taking a sip from his tumbler. But before Peter could try and butt in and demand a reason, the waiter came by and asked if they would like any dessert, to which Peter got distracted by his father shoving a menu of the small assortment of desserts the restaurant served. Tony knew his son had a thing for sweets and got lost in his own world easily once he focused on something else. One point to daddy Stark and zero to the poor spawn of the billionaire.

[wri0thesley]

Request ❤️ Can I please get fic or hcs for horny dilf!Jotaro trying to seduce Jolyne’s friend who is in like her 20s. When she finally gives in she just gently doms him with lots of teasing because she wants him a complete mess. I love sub dilf!Joot sksksksk

NOT SFW/ 18+ ONLY

warnings: afab reader, fem pronouns, sub jotaro, BIG age gap (20+ years, reader’s implied to be in her very early twenties, jotaro is a few years older than stone ocean jotaro). 

He’s pretending he’s not staring, as all three of you eat dinner again. You’ve been staying with Jolyne for a few days, now, and every single day her father’s eyes on you are a little more obvious. You’re not the oblivious kind at all; you’d seen the swallow when he’d been introduced to you, the darting of his eyes as he’d tried not to look at your body in your dress - you might not be the most experienced person in the whole world, but you’re certainly experienced enough to know that Jotaro Kujo’s interested. 

You flirt a little bit, when Jolyne’s not around. You wear your skirts a little shorter and your shirts a little lower, you smile and flutter your eyelashes, you accidentally bump into his chair with your hip when you need to leave the room. Jotaro makes an attempt to flirt back, too (that’s what keeps you going, pushing him just a little bit further). He asks for your help holding a ladder when he needs to do some DIY around the house (Jolyne rolls her eyes and sighs and asks why it can’t just wait). He holds your gaze a little longer. He passes you things over the table, his fingers brushing yours for just a little longer than they should--

He’s not subtle, but he never does it when Jolyne is watching. Their relationship is fragile, and even he has enough emotional intelligence to know not to knock it off its axis just yet. So it’s quiet, rushed little things. Your flirts are not as clumsy as his - you would never expect a man who looks like that, at his age, to be clumsy with love, but there it is - but they are undoubtedly there, simmering beneath the surface. It’s a fun game to play - not quite letting him catch on. Teasing him. 

And then, Jolyne is suddenly called away because her mother is sick and needs someone to look after her (“Nothing serious,” Jolyne chirps, “but she needs someone to handle the day to day stuff for a few days! No sweat!”), and after she’s checked several times that it’s okay to leave you there - your own home is a few states away, having college friends can be like that sometimes - you find yourself alone in the house with Professor Jotaro Kujo. And he . . . well. If you’d thought his attempts were clumsy when he was attempting to be covert with Jolyne around, they are clumsier when it’s simply you and him. 

He doesn’t come right out and say it, though it’s obvious that he wants you. He avoids you for a day, awkward, flushing when you greet him or need to ask him questions - and then, the day after, he seems to swallow his pride. He stays in your vicinity. He watches you, and speaks to you, and asks you questions - and when you come down for dinner one day in a dress that’s a little tighter than normal, he swallows. When he speaks to you, his voice is thick, and you know exactly why;

“That looks nice on you,” he says, a grunt. You know by now that he’s not verbose; if one word will do, Jotaro sees no point in using twenty. Still - it’s unusual of him to comment on. He doesn’t notice when Jolyne changes her hair to six different wild colours, or when she wears clothes with obscene (but hilarious) captions scrawled across them. You smile at him through lower lashes.

Almost provocatively, you run a hand down one side, emphasising your hip and thigh. 

“You like it?” You ask him. “I wasn’t sure--”

“No,” he says, and there’s the swallow again. His skin has flushed. You can tell that he wants to tear his eyes away from you, but they’re dark. “No, it looks . . . you look nice--”

“I was going to take dinner upstairs, if it’s alright--” You say to him, and almost immediately he starts, his hand reaching out towards you as if to touch your wrist, his tone dark and slow and attempting to be seductive despite the fact that he’s sweating bullets about how much he wants you--

“Eat with me,” he says, his words slow as if he’s trying to think about them before he says something he’ll regret. It’s the most animated you’ve ever seen him - his composure slipping, all because of a dress that shows too much thigh and the fact that you’ve been gently nibbling at the frayed edges of his composure to let loose his desire for weeks. 

Your lips curl into a smirk as you take the seat next to him, your bare knee nudging his leg under the table (he takes a breath in through gritted teeth). Your voice is very, very, very soft when you say; 

“Mr Kujo, I think there’s something you’re hungrier for then dinner.”

~

When you kiss him, he melts - for such a big man, he’s easy to tease and tug along behind you until you’re entering the forbidden domain of his bedroom. It’s easy to put your smaller hands on his shoulders and push him to sit on the bed, comfortably fitting your hips between his muscled thighs, kissing him with slow, burning hunger. Your teeth nip at his lower lip, suckle on the skin (he tastes like sea salt), your fingers wrapping around the nape of his neck and tangling in his dark hair. His hat is discarded - by you, naturally - with a good natured huff of laughter against his lips - and then, you give his hair a tug, and he groans. 

Oh, so he likes to be pushed around a little bit?

You’re not at all averse to that. 

Another bite, Your body presses closer to him, your pelvis pressing against the heat in his snakeskin trousers (he dresses so strangely - then again, it’s not as if Jolyne is the peak of normalcy). He groans again, his hips involuntarily flexing against you as if in search of more friction from your body - but, laughing, you pull away.

“Stay there and be good,” you tell him, smirking, stepping back. Your fingers go to the hem of your dress. You’re agonisingly slow in removing the tight fabric, your hips wiggling, your body feeling suddenly powerful and new under Jotaro’s worshipful gaze. His chest is heaving, his shoulders moving up and down as he tries to control himself, his eyes unable to be torn from every new exposed inch of you. Your bra. Jotaro bucks forward at this, straining as if he wants to touch you - but with a shake of your head and a click of your tongue in reprimand, he controls himself. 

He’s so obedient. What a good boy. You’ll reward him for that. 

And then, your underwear. Sliding over thighs, you look down and see the damp patch (you cannot argue that Jotaro’s bumbling attempts at flirting and the clear way he wishes for more of you is like a carrot in front of a horse for your libido) - and, a soft laugh escaping your lips, you make sure that Jotaro sees the dampness too. And that he tastes it, as you delicately pick up the underwear with two fingers and get onto your knees in front of him, fingers pushing your balled up underwear into his open mouth. 

“Don’t be too loud, now,” you tell him, earnestly serious. He makes a muffled noise of agreement, his knuckles tight on the edge of the bed as he watches you reach for his belts and the concealed zip of the snakeskin (those trousers are skin-tight - you wonder where he bought them). Innocently, as you reach into his underwear, you say; “What if someone comes home early?”

His cock - and Jesus Christ, that’s a lot of man to be handling - twitches in your fingers. Oh, so he’s getting off to the idea of you being a good two decades years younger than him. Cute. He’s flushed, so he’s obviously embarrassed by it - but it’s not like you can say the fact that he’s older and more experienced and your friend’s dad, reduced to putty in your hands, isn’t turning you on, is it? 

You pull him out of his underwear and you have to take a moment just to appreciate the size and weight of him in your fingers; the heaviness of his shaft, the way that his head is leaking precome, pink and needy - you reach forward and lick a slow line across him, relishing the taste of Jotaro in your mouth. The groan he lets forth is mostly kept quiet by your underwear stuffed in his mouth--

Mostly. 

You chide him with the clicking tongue again, circling that same admonishing instrument around the head, licking and suckling at him like an ice cream instead of doing anything so brash as taking him into your mouth and earnestly sucking his cock. You want to - but he’s so cute, flushed and needy and submissive for you like this! One of your hands slides up his thigh, keeping leverage on it (he groans when your fingers dig into muscled flesh) as you take more and more of him into the cavern of your mouth. 

He’s big enough you need the other hand to stay on his cock, leisurely pumping him at a pace that matches your lazy mouth. His hips twitch, his fingers flexing on the bedcovers, whimpers lost amongst the damp lace in his mouth as you give him your attention but simply not enough of it--

After a few moments, you pull back. Your eyes are lazy and lidded.

“Not enough?” You ask him, playing at innocence. Jotaro looks down at you with dark eyes framed with blacker, longer lashes than he has any right to. You know that the piteous look means; ‘more, please’ - but you still want to hear it straight from his mouth.

You rise to your feet and delicately pull the lace from inside his mouth. His cock juts forward, wet with your saliva, nudging needily at your bare thighs. 

“Well?” You ask him. His face, still flushed, looks into yours - he’s struggling with the words. He’s not articulate by any means - and you don’t think that he realises how cute he is. “Do you need more?”

He breaks the gaze. He’s almost bashful when he says;

“C-can I touch you?”

“What else are you going to say?” You ask, tossing your hair, challenge in your gaze and tone. He bites his lip but offers;

“Please?”

“Hmm,” you say, pretending to think about it. “Well . . . Alright. But . . . one condition.”

He nods, fervently, his hands already moving from the bed’s edges to hover over your hips. You smirk wickedly. Once more, your hands rise to his shoulders - but this time, you forcibly push him down so he’s splayed beneath you. Your finger slides over his lips as you say, very soft and quiet--

“You can touch me all you want, but I get to set the pace.”

Your knees are already on the bed, straddling him, his cock pressing against damp folds. There’s a roaring in your stomach; a need to have him desperate and clinging to you and panting as you fuck him. Oh, there’s something that makes you feel so powerful in the way he’s looking at you; the fact that he’s still hovering over your hips, too intimidated by your raw power to hold onto you. You’re sure that nobody who looks at Jotaro Kujo on the street imagines him being the submissive half of a relationship - but it’s so wonderful that he is. 

“What do you think?” You ask, biting your lip, arching your back and moving your hips just so, so the head of his cock (sensitive, slick) rubs against your folds and nudges your clit. He shudders at the sensation. “Do you agree to my terms?”

He’s breathless, his voice low and gritty, a voice that slides down your spine and makes your toes curl.

“Yes--”

Your grin is more ferocious than sexy, but as Jotaro’s hands land shyly on your hips and he blushes harder and turns his face away in embarrassment, just for a moment, you know that he has no complaints. 

His cock sinks an inch into you, slowly, as you lower yourself further and further down-- breathlessly, half-laughing, you reward him.

“Good boy.”

[boss-of-armadildos]

#shangri la frontier#not to be a furry but#okay that's a lie I am fully a furry here#severely furry#maximum furry#I want this rabbit to smash me harder than he hammers that blade#I want this DILF to show me what that carrot do#I want this absolute furry mountain of a man to tear the clothes off of me like unwrapping a candy bar#this rabbit FUCKS

It has come to my attention that some of you may be unaware that the anime Shangri-La Frontier has a bunny daddy voiced by Akio Ōtsuka.

And he SINGS.