#fluffy like a corgi butt

[syneilesis]

[fic] Pampertime

Pampertime

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | Explicit | 6.7k words | ao3 link

Butler Rule No. 1: From the moment you accept the role, be prepared to obey your lady’s every command. The bunny butler outfit makes a grand return. In bed.

Content tags: Established Relationship, PWP, Roleplay, Bunny Butler Xavier, Dom/sub elements, Sub!Xavier, Strip Tease, Hand Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Cowgirl Position, Riding, PIV sex, Creampie

A/N: My contribution to the bunny butler Xavier train. Only gave a cursory edit once, so any mistakes still my fault. I'm just glad I'm done, whatever. Divider by @/saradika

One bright and sunny afternoon, Xavier texts you: Emergency can U come up here to help me?

You're in the middle of cleaning your living room, after weeks of neglecting your household responsibilities due to the sudden influx of Wanderers in the neighboring city. The Hunters Association had been scrambling to send out their hunters due to the sudden invasion of Wanderers that resembled bafflingly like corgis—which was both a blessing and a curse, if one were to be asked. Blessing because, well, they were a breed that incited cute aggression and fluffiness, and civilian evacuation had resulted in minimal problems, if one ignores the influx of people into doglike Wanderers. A curse, because—well, they did look like corgis—fluffy like a bread with a cute butt, the kind that you would expect to see in the plushie line sold at Twinkle Toys Store. They're irresistible to drag your hand across their soft coat. A not-inconsiderable number of hunters realized the error of their ways in overlooking the fact that these floof of creatures were still Wanderers, and as a consequence, Linkon hospitals suddenly found themselves busier for a week or two.

Regardless, the corgi Wanderers were easy to take care of, once you saw past their clever ruse. The difficulty lay in the numbers. Like a relentless tsunami flooding the city, they undulate in droves, shaking their butts and bouncing around and generally making an oxymoronically cute menace of themselves.

As one of the hunters dispatched to the area, you valiantly resisted the siren cute-call and eliminated as many as you could. It took you and your team more than a week, and it would have been shorter than that, had Xavier been in the fray. But he had been sent in another region the week before, and was unable to join you in your fluff-filled resistance.

But now it seems that he's back and is in need of your assistance. Flashback to that time when his oven exploded due to his attempt at baking tarts, and you drop everything you're doing and fly outside, towards the elevator, fueled by fear and sheer panic.

When you burst into his apartment, using the spare key he left you, you cry out, “Xavier! Sitrep!”

A cursory survey of the area indicate neither fire nor flood, and his apartment seems undamaged. Fear subsiding, you finally take stock of the situation.

Perhaps it's not a kitchen emergency after all? There’s no smell of something burning, thank heavens for that. You do not want to apologize to his neighbors in his place again.

You call once more, “Xavier?”

“In here.”

His voice is coming from the bedroom, and that makes you waver. Why is he still in his bedroom? Maybe he's stuck in bed? Did he sleep for three days and wake up in an unusual position and in need of assistance to set back his limbs again? Weirder and weirder thoughts spiral in your head, and your lack of response prompts him to speak once more.

“You can go in, if that's what stops you.”

“Why can't you just go out?”

“I ... can't.”

The hesitation captures your attention. Xavier is probably entangled in the bed. You may as well help him.

“All right, I'm coming in then.”

When you open the door, you're expecting some sort of layers and layers of blankets, a sea of them, not just on the bed but also on the floor and other furniture. Xavier might be underneath in any of those blankets, and it's your duty to locate him and fish him out. You're ready to swim against these blankets, fight your way into it. Do your utmost duty as a combat partner.

Except.

Except it's not a sea of blankets that welcome you once you enter the room. It's—different.

So different.

So utterly different that you drop your phone. It clatters muffled against the carpeted floor, where it slightly nudges a gift-wrapped box. And that gift-wrapped box sits next to another gift-wrapped box, and another. And another. Until you lift your widening gaze to see that Xavier's bedroom is littered with a lot of them. And Xavier—

He's on the bed, all right. But he's—

He grins lightly, leaning back from his sprawled position. The pillows behind him sink under his weight.

“Kjalfjdsj?” you say, eloquently.

“I'm glad you came ...” A pregnant pause, before he drops the bomb. “My lady.”

Your brain short-circuits.

Xavier is sprawled on the bed, bunny ears on his head, waistcoat and tie, and—you just know, you can feel it in your bones—bunny tail on behind. It's exactly what he wore when you had your couple's photos back then. The fact that he's wearing it and, judging by the sudden change of interior design of his room, that he's replicated the decoration of the studio—actually, you don't know what you can glean from those points, because you're too busy picking up the remains of your brain matter to form a coherent thought.

He drops another bomb: “Why are you just standing there, my lady?” he says, and going by the quirk of his lips he knows the effect he has on you. Compared with the first time it happened, the shy reluctance is no longer present. “This bunny butler is ready to serve, just say the word.”

Your brain melts.

“Wha—I mean—um, guh—” You studiously reacquaint yourself with the concept of words. “I just—what is going on?”

Xavier blinks, and the bunny ears on top of his head twitch as if they are truly connected to his head. Your fingers twitch themselves in response, that urge to touch and feel them again.

“I just thought,” he begins, slowly at first as if testing the waters, “that you need to relax and get pampered after that difficult mission you've just had.”

The words percolate in your mind and you scrabble for an appropriate reply to that. To be fair to the man, Xavier is sweet thinking of your well-being like that. Or maybe he's guilty that he wasn't there to help during that corgipocalypse of a week. Regardless of his intent, you have to ask:

“You thought I need to relax and your solution is to dress up as a bunny butler?”

He has the gall to think about it at length. “Yes, my lady.”

You don't miss the way he spreads his legs a little wider at that.

And really—you're only human, with wants and needs and desires. It just so happens that the common denominator of those three aspects point to the ridiculous man before you, in that ridiculous bunny butler getup that you secretly love and hope to see again. Which—yeah, it's definitely the perfect solution.

Stomping your hesitation and pride, you stride towards the bed, and Xavier, watching your every step, reclines further, giving you space for you to place your knee on the soft mattress, between his legs.

The bedfoam dips, and he shifts to avoid sinking down the indent your knee makes. Your other knee follows, and you move towards him until the heat of his inner thighs touch the outer sides of yours.

At the proximity between the two of you, Xavier tips forward, and in spite of your positions he doesn't need to tilt his head much upward to meet your deliberating gaze. An anticipatory sharpness falls on his expression and, oh, you realize, he must've wanted this too.

Which is all that you need to fall into this completely.

And it's a transformation: a reshifting of limbs and the straightening of spine, something like a lock unlatching.

“Mr. Bunny Butler,” you begin, low and relishing and shy of being predatory, “bow your head.”

Xavier's nostrils flare at that. After a couple of seconds he complies, and seeing the sliver of his exposed nape opens something within you.

Against your shoulder the bunny ears snag, their length not allowing to fall along Xavier's pose. You bring one hand up to trace an invisible line across an ear, the fur short and soft. Xavier's quiet beneath you, but you can feel him stiffening at your every move. Braced a little behind his sides, his hands clench tightly.

“Can you feel it?” you ask, pinching the colored tip of the ear, pushing it back to observe its make. It's well-made, and you wonder if this one costs more than you'd expect.

Xavier shakes his head. You want to hear him, however, so you tap the back of his head in warning. He exhales loudly; breathes out, “No ...” and then tacking on: “Master.”

Your eyes narrow in pleasure, the flesh of your cheeks bunching from how wide your smile is. “That's my good bunny,” you praise him, caressing the curve of his head. He shivers—whether from the praise or the touch or both, you don't know.

To see him like this—a formidable hunter with centuries of experience, the force of stars pulsing underneath his skin, ready to rupture at his command—head bent low before you, hands closed in restrained fists, the lines of his body intersecting into a show of surrender. Yielding. It heats the core of your belly and your blood, and you can't help but bite your lip as you savor the image.

Leaning back and sitting on your calves, you catch Xavier's downcast stare. His brows furrowed as if concentrating, and when he notices you trained on him, his eyes do something that reminds you of the existence of the concept of puppy dog eyes.

Every time he does that, you think, you want to gobble him up.

Closing in on his face, you raise your left hand and cradle his jaw, tipping it up, gazes never leaving each other. Then you draw nearer, and nearer, until your lips almost brush against his. The sharp sound of his inhale is deafening in this lack of distance. Your eyes never leave his, but his drop down, nearly crossing, as he's distracted by your lips. His breaths are hot on your skin, and finally you aim at the corner of his mouth, and open your own to say:

“Don't move.”

And then you descend, trailing butterfly kisses along the edge of his lips, his cheek, his temple. Xavier goes spine-rigid at the first contact, forgetting to breathe for a second, before slowly exhaling, as if trying to hold himself together. His brows knit again and his eyes flutter closed, the line of his lips sloping downward.

He's controlling himself. And that delights you so much that you shift to kiss his earlobe and tug it once, then whispering directly to his ear, “That's my obedient bunny. Keep this up and I'll reward you.”

You stop to wait, and when nothing happens, you tug his jaw and take a bite at the shell of his ear—he gasps—and continue:

“What do you say?”

Xavier's shoulders lurch. He breathes once, twice, before answering.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Good boy.”

The first reward: a kiss on the lips. A quick, initial press before you pry him open with tongue, and he welcomes you eagerly from the way he surges to meet you. The hand on his face holds him back, but his own hands fly to your hips and plant themselves there.

You slap them away, he resists. You break the kiss, and he makes a disappointed sound, chasing you, and then realizes what he's done.

“I'm sorry—my lady,” he stumbles, putting his hands back in their previous position. He looks so properly chastised, you love it.

Outwardly, you sigh in disappointment, and he whips his head up, stricken. “After I said that you're obedient, you do this. What shall we do, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

“What—” He swallows. “What do you want me to do, my lady?”

In all the times you've tried to fluster him, Xavier doesn't really redden. At best his skin produces a soft sheen of pink across his cheeks that linger over his ears. Never tomato-red though.

But now, his face glows bright pink that gradiates to a noticeable crimson, ending at the tips of his ears. This is good development, you decide, something that you want more of. So you push further.

“Are you truly sorry, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

He nods meekly.

“Then”—a finger pokes at the center of his forehead and pushes, his head docilely tilting back, exposing his slender, beautiful neck—“don't move this time.”

You slip two fingers under his tie and pull it loose. The unobstructed slide of the silken fabric echoes around the room, punctuated by the hitch of his breath. The bunny ears jerk. To his credit, he's still as a statue, and the giddiness that you've been feeling for a while now mounts to a dull yet insistent ache that pools between your legs.

Then you unbutton his collar, which reveals more of that pretty neck. An alarmed sound forms in his throat, and you call his name in warning. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows whatever he's about to say.

And that Adam's apple becomes your next target: your mouth molds around it, sucking, and Xavier gives a full-body shudder. A groan bursts out of him. He's trembling, his hands—leather-gloved and creaking at the strain of his fists—his thighs, his shoulders. You can see how he wants to turn his head, to retreat from your hot mouth, but thinks himself the better of it.

You place your left hand under his head and kiss him under the angle of his left jaw.

“Ah—”

With your free hand, you trace down the outline of his neck to shoulder. His breath catches, he jolts away, his eyes shoot you a betrayed look.

“My lady—”

You plant another kiss in the dip of his collarbone. “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?” you ask against his moist skin.

He releases a shuttered exhale. Behind you, his legs move in a way that comes across as avoidant, as if he's hiding something from you. You glance down and realize the reason for his discomfort.

Saliva pools in your mouth.

But you swallow the surging desire ignited by the image of his arousal. It isn't time yet; you want to draw this out as long as you can.

Head still tipped back, Xavier doesn't see your discovery of his want, his eyes half-mast and his focus directed on reining himself in. If you remove yourself from the scene and study him from head to toe, you'd find Xavier the perfect picture of temptation, restrained, controlled on the surface but a collapsing star underneath, gravity pulling you to him and there's no way to escape.

Not that you'd like to escape in the first place.

You repeat your question, this time against his Adam's apple: “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?”

“My la—” He chokes. Tries again. “Whatever my lady wants.”

Ah. Such a good bunny.

Your hands drift down to the next closed button. His tie is loosened enough that you can remove it in one hard tug. And isn't that a nice thought: one strong pull and he's dragged along by the force, his lips inevitably landing on your lips, a welcome collision.

But you don't follow that path; instead, your hands drop lower, to the last button of his waistcoat. The sides of your hands brush against the seam of his pants, dangerously close to his already obvious bulge, and it dawns on Xavier that you're already aware of his worldly response, if the widening of his eyes is an indication. He whips his head to shoot you a meaningful look, as if begging you to ignore his lapse of control—as if that is an unwelcome development.

Sometimes, you think, Xavier wants to show you a side of him that only exudes assurance, a sharp blade and sturdy shield that envelop you in sidereal protection. Be it from outside forces and his own—and even yours. Physical dangers, most especially, but curiously enough: information. Knowledge. The matters of the past. The matters of the heart. The both of you may have confessed that day, the words of your promises embedded in your heart like an oath under the stars, but there are times when a shadow passes through Xavier's expression, and he seems so far away. Light-years away.

But right now, that thought isn't at the forefront of your mind: it is the way the redness climbs up his neck, his face, his cheeks, painting him a beautiful hue that reminds you of a recently blossomed rose. He truly is gorgeous this way.

One of his hands encloses around yours, stopping your ministrations. Minute tremors hum under his callused palm.

“I'm—” A quick breath. “I'm supposed to serve you, my lady.”

Ah. Truly such a good bunny.

You capitulate, hands retreating from the button of his pants, but not before caressing his trembling hand and squeezing it once. An indulgent smile unfurls in the line of your lips, and you make a snap decision.

The second reward: freedom. Xavier has expressed his desire to serve, to please, and you'll give him the freedom to choose how to enact it—

Under a specific instruction, of course.

“Yes, of course,” you say, tapping his warm cheek fondly with your index finger. “Serve me, then, Mr. Bunny Butler. Strip for me. Slowly.”

He catches that finger quickly with his mouth, bites it lightly, like it's a warning—or a promise. You let him nibble and lick your finger for a couple of seconds, the wetness sending electricity down your spine, and you can't stop the shiver that echoes throughout your body. Xavier narrows his eyes in satisfaction at your response, hints of a smirk around his lips, and that's insubordination if you saw one. So you snatch your finger away from him, and punish him by dragging your wet finger along the column of his neck.

He jumps at the sensation.

“Strip, Xavier,” you repeat firmly. “Make sure it's a good show.”

It just proves how dedicated he is at this roleplay: by this point he should have already ended this little act and would have taken over, but he's holding your critical gaze as his hands settle over the topmost button of his vest.

“I'll try, my lady.” His voice drops to a low, husky murmur, one that summons pinpricks down your nape and the back of your shoulders, crawling in a slow, deliberate tease.

He does try, indeed. He moves back, affording you space to see his torso without having to change your position. One hand to brace his weight, the other deftly maneuvering each button at a comfortable pace. For every button opened, he takes a deep breath, gives you a confident smile, albeit awkward at the edges. But the rhythm of it lulls you, and you find yourself playing with his bunny ears again—a right decision, because he makes a surprised sound, which morphs into a moan.

The returned proximity grants you the ghostly brushes of his knuckles against your clothed stomach when he opens another button. Because of this, the way your stomach contracts every time he brushes you becomes known to him, and Xavier huffs a laugh, and proceeds to be more purposeful with it.

You tug at his bunny ear, hard. “Mr. Bunny Butler,” you warn.

His shrugs his vest off as his reply.

Now, only left with shirt and tie, Xavier stares down at them, thinking about what to do next. You help him by pushing yourself flush against him, making sure that your thigh grazes his cock. He judders, shoving his face on the crook of your neck and groaning. Idly, you continue playing with the furred ears.

“My lady, my lady,” he mutters, and you feel him sighing, “don't tease me.”

You hum. “Then put more effort in your show.”

He peeks up at you under those pretty yet underhanded lashes of his, and you spy hints of a smirk in that mouth.

But before you can question him about it, a hand grabs yours and guides it to his tie, wraps it around the silk fabric, and pulls. Slowly, carefully. From this angle more skin is revealed under your wandering gaze—the tease of a nipple, flashing beneath that white shirt—and you gulp at the flutter in your belly.

Once the necktie is completely off him, he takes it from your hand and, indeed like a show, re-ties it around his neck, a ribboned gift. At this point you're ready to combust—and he's not even naked.

“Do you like it, my lady?”

“Yes,” you rasp, suddenly off-kilter, “very much.”

“Then ...” He resumes undressing, the buttons of his shirt easily extricated, his movements economical, and bit by bit his bare torso opens before your anticipatory eyes.

He stops at the tucked-in part of the shirt. Glances at you, bites his lip, and goes back to pull the front off so the shirt opens just below his shoulders, presenting you such a gorgeous view.

Xavier sinks into the propped-up pillows—and you unconsciously follow—and smiles. “All yours, Master.”

He knows—that little shit—the allure of incomplete nakedness. The gap, the gape, the patches of exposed skin surrounded by fabric. Xavier's using it to his utmost advantage.

By now you could have clawed his clothes away from his body, but somehow, this tastes more delicious, the promise of a tease, the prolonged heat-pulse that thrums in your core, and you're pretty sure, if Xavier's shallow breaths are an indication, that he's into this too.

Well. May as well take advantage of this luxurious present.

One hand descends on the side of his neck, and you see him tamp down the surprised jolt. This hand, light in its touch, ghostly, virtual, traces the edges of the necktie. You can hear Xavier's bated breath, waiting for your next step.

Then down, down, down to his collarbone, the dip of it, your index finger making laps twice, end to end.

Then further: his chest. And this time, it's not only your hand that wants to participate. You brace yourself on his shoulder and bend down to kiss the center of his chest. Xavier lets out a sound, and inhales sharply.

Next: his left nipple, with an additional teasing nip. His hips buck from the sensation.

You stay where you are, lifting your gaze to ascertain his expression. His head is turned away, hiding his face, a hand covering half of it. But it's useless for him to hide, because his ear is in your direct line of vision, and it's a glaring red.

This propels you to indulge more: the hand on his shoulder slides down to pay his other nipple attention. His legs shift, restless. The sounds of his gasps and moans occupy the room. You feast on him, laying your tongue flat on him and dragging it wetly until you hear him stutter your name.

“M-My lady—I—”

You surge forward, and the force topples the stack of pillows behind him. In the midst of this, you reposition your legs so that you're finally straddling Xavier, your skirt bunching up just below your waist, and—teasingly—grind against his straining cock.

He jerks, grabbing at your hips, attempting at more friction, but you remind him who's in charge, and he eventually relents, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“Sorry about that, my lady. I'm—I'm good now.”

“That's my good bunny.” Then you continue exploring his body with your tongue.

He tastes faintly of sweat but also the scent-taste of his body wash. He's showered just before calling you up. And for some reason, that does you: you rise to kiss him again, and your free hand sneaks itself under him—and grabs his bunny tail.

Xavier yelps, scarlet, shocked at the action, gaping at you and your smug face.

You squeeze the fluffy ball of a tail in response.

“M-My lady...!” he blurts.

“Shame that I didn't get to play with this last time,” you muse, feeling up the soft thing. It twitches under your curious touch. Delighted, you shift around Xavier's torso to lift his hips and study and poke at the tail repeatedly, entranced at the bounce and fuzziness of it. “A wasted opportunity, don't you think so?”

When you check Xavier's reaction, you have to hold back your laugh. He's clearly uncomfortable, but the discomfort is brought upon by embarrassment, as evidenced by his squirming and the persistence of his blush.

Words have left him, so he just averts your leery gaze, bury his face into the nearest pillow, and groans.

Taking pity on him, you release his tail—but not without giving it one last flick; he jolts—and slide your hands around the waistband of his pants. You're fumbling for the button and then the zipper when two gloved hands hinder your actions.

Xavier's face is rearranged into an indulgent yet mischievous smile. “My lady can enjoy me as long as you like. There's no need to hurry.”

But that's the thing, isn't it? You have already enjoyed him so much and enough that at one point things are bound to snap. He as your focal point of your want, the desire that thrums alongside your veins, almost like blood.

“But Mr. Bunny Butler,” you start, adopting a light, airy voice and tilting your head up at him, “there are a lot of things to enjoy from you. I'm not sure if one evening would do.”

Before Xavier can even get a word edgewise, you tear his pants open and yank his boxers down, freeing his cock.

“My la—”

His cock is a firm, solid weight on your hand, and Xavier bucks at the first contact, a halfway gasp ripping out of him. You watch his reactions as you stroke him slowly—painfully slowly, tantalizingly slowly—as your other hand crawl up his waist, flat palm spanning his side.

You know, intellectually and objectively, that Xavier is pretty. Gunmetal-grey hair that shimmers under the starry night sky. His smooth, unlined skin that you're harboring unholy envy for, soft under your curious fingers, almost pristine, untouched all his life. The column of his neck, strong bones underneath the layer of skin and muscle, the prominence of his Adam's apple. The outline of his body—even and proportioned, balanced like a finely crafted sword. And most of all: his eyes, the most expressive part of all of him. The color of an unperturbed sky, always clear and never lost. A steady glister in the darkness.

Right now, though, he's different altogether. Almost otherworldly in the way he's unraveling under your clever fingers. A shift of pressure and he's biting down the meat of his hand in a poor attempt to muffle his groans. A fleeting trail across the slit of his cock and his eyes flutter shut, his hips jumping off the mattress. He thrashes in chase of the pressure and pleasure you're providing him in crumbs, your need to see him lose that frustrating control of his. You keep stroking him and watching him blossom before you, petal by petal, limb by limb, nerve by nerve.

“My lady—” He's panting, running out of breath, his voice gaining that frenzied quality. It's music to your ears. “Master—Master, haa—”

He's coming, you can feel it. You can see it through his quickening breaths, the flush of his skin all over his body, the white-knuckled fist of his hands, the throb of his cock.

“My lady, I'm co—”

You release him, and the slow transformation of his face is such a fascinating phenomenon. From the crunch of pleasure, then crumpling into confusion. He raises his head to see you leaning back, hands away from him, his hazy eyes taking in what's happening—or its lack of. Then they widen, his mouth dropping open to release a sound of distress, round and full and cracking.

“Why did you ...”

You tug at the ends of the ribbon-necktie. He clicks his mouth shut.

“You said I can enjoy you as long as I like. There's no need to hurry.”

His gaze finally clears, and he gulps, nodding. Near your hips, Xavier's cock leaks.

“Then ...” You lay on top of him, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, your belly pressing against his pulsing cock (he freezes at this, and then continues to freeze), and place your arms on the sides of his head so your hands can reach the bunny ears. They still react delightfully under your roaming touch. “I'm going to enjoy these a little more. Don't move too much, okay?”

The room becomes pinched with quiet, and while you're intent on the furry ears atop Xavier's head, you can sense in your periphery his eyes on you. He's careful not to jostle you, the air he breathes catching on your skin, and you feel his arms snaking around your waist, settling on the small of your back.

“You really like the costume that much, huh.”

You hum in acknowledgment, rubbing the area where accessory meets scalp. You scratch it with your light fingernails, and Xavier sighs at the feeling.

When you leave the ears, you turn your attention to Xavier's expression next. He's still observing you, his flush now pale but enduringly distinct across his cheeks, and that entices you to meet his lips in a slow, patient kiss.

“It's nice, seeing you go through such effort to make me happy,” you answer him after you separate, punctuating the statement with a pleased, narrow-eyed smile.

A thought takes over Xavier, with the way his brows knit. Moments pass, you regard him, until he finally opens his mouth to articulate whatever has occupied him.

“My lady,” he begins, hesitant at first, but each word gains confidence, “there's something I want to do for you.”

“Speak.”

“I want you to”—and here his stare morphs into that puppy dog eyes again—“sit on my face. Please.”

You're stunned. The room continues to be quiet, and you're stunned. Xavier doesn't add anything after that; just waiting for your response. He's probably not sensing how you've finally shut down. You, felled by nine words, the last one an imperative period that brooked no refusal.

When he calls you, his face and his voice are tinted with uncertainty.

“Stars, Xavier.” You scramble up to reposition yourselves in accordance to his request. During this transitory moment, Xavier removes his gloves with his teeth. Now bare, both his hands come up to hold your thighs from behind, adjusting their spread and angle. You want to whine self-consciously, but glimpsing Xavier's eager expression as you move towards his head, you stamp that part in your mind. “Okay down there?”

He doesn't reply—instead he just goes for it.

Your hands shoot for the headboard, a surprised cry shocked out of you. Is this Xavier's way of revenge for denying his orgasm earlier? The way he confronts you is not unlike a battle, with his single-minded focus on his goal and his preciseness. He parts your folds with his tongue, pays attention to your clit first: sucks it lightly before dialing it up. You convulse, your hips digging down, and he moans, the vibration thrumming your flesh.

“Xavier,” you sob, “Xavier. Xavier.”

He laps around your clit like a thirsty man, hands kneading your thighs. He must've been thinking about this for a while now, with how methodical he's going by it, strategized to push you into becoming a complete and utter wreck. He kisses your clit then mouths it, moves his tongue in lateral glides that have you thrashing on your position. You grind against him, and he welcomes it wholeheartedly, and behind you his hips thrust helplessly in air, his stubbornly hard cock drooling with pre-come.

One hand nudges you forward and you follow, until his tongue enters inside you—you gasp and shiver at the slick intrusion—drinks you with such loudness that you wouldn't be surprised if his neighbors overhear what the two of you have been doing.

He knows how to prolong the barrage of pleasure, that heat and swell around your core, your undulating hips, sustained until you buckle and collapse from the force of it, your orgasm torrential like a storm.

When Xavier emerges between your legs, his face shines from your slick and his saliva. A fond smile slips out of you, and a finger traces the length of his lips; then your entire hand, cupping the side of his face, a tender caress. A smile of his own appears and he nuzzles your hand, kisses the center of your palm, eyes closed and sated.

“Good boy,” you praise, and he sighs happily. “So good for me. Have to reward you, don't I?”

The third reward: release. You move back to pull his pants and boxers off him completely, and Xavier just watches you with anticipation, breaths in quick bursts.

“You know the drill: don't move.” You underline this order with a tease of his cock, a line-trail from the tip to the base and then a quick squeeze of his balls.

When you align yourself above him and begin to sink down, Xavier goes rigid-stiff, daring not to breathe, careful not to move. You pause from your progress, and send him a worried look.

“Xavier?”

“I—I'm—” He bites his lip, exhales through his nose. “I'm okay, I just. I'm just trying not to react too much.”

“Why?”

He casts you a helpless gaze. “Because, my lady, I'm afraid that my control would slip, and I would have my selfish way with you.”

You falter at that. To be honest that's not such a bad idea at all, but Xavier knows that this is for you and your needs, and what you need right now—and what you want, if one were to ask—is him under you, at your mercy. Just as he is right now.

So you move lower, feeling the head of his cock open you up, slowly. And you can hear the hitching breaths unwittingly made by him, his eyes shut and his whole expression folded inward, as if he couldn't handle the pleasure descending over him.

A groan tumbles out of his lips, low at first, quick and fleeting, but as you inch lower and lower, the feel of his cock molding you inside, the wanton sounds he makes lengthens, gets louder, until he parts those glistening lips and vocalizes his satisfaction.

“My lady—you feel so—”

“Good, I hope.”

He doesn't wait until you bottom out; he bucks his hips to sheathe himself inside you completely in one smooth motion. You cry out from his action, his cock pulsing against your walls, and the feeling of him pulls you in further bliss that your eyes flutter closed and your back arches as the pleasure spreads throughout your body.

“The best, my lady.”

He gasps when you clench around him, your wetness dripping between your joined bodies.

You really think the best position Xavier has ever been is here right now: underneath you, helpless to your demands, seized by pleasure that you're giving him and taking from him. The way his face doesn't know what to do in the undulating waves of pressure as you begin to move above him, your hips lifting and then slamming back down; the film of sweat coating his skin all over, moistening the sheets beneath the two of you. The severe grip of his hands, bunching up the blankets in their deathly clutch. His rapid heartbeat under your palm as you support your weight by bracing yourself on his chest. His moans, his filthy, filthy moans—his moans that you will remember until your dying day because they are so far out of his cultivated normalcy—open-mouthed, slack-jawed moans that come from the core of his abdomen, surging upwards, frantic, crazed, melodiously and sublimely wanton.

“Look at you, Xavier,” you pant, and one of Xavier's legs kicks out. “Look at my bunny butler.”

“Master—Master—”

“What do you want, darling?” you ask, shakily tracing the side of his face. When your fingers near his mouth he turns his head to place a kiss at your fingertips, then drags his tongue out to lick at their length. Your index and middle fingers press flat at his tongue, and he groans around them. His puffs of breath beat in time with the movement of your hips.

One hand crawls towards your thigh, haltingly slides upwards, up to the junction of your hips, where it disappears under the spill of your skirt. Then it reaches behind to squeeze at the meat of your ass, and you gasp, stuttering your pace.

You take out your fingers so he can answer you, but Xavier grabs your wrist with his other hand and brings it back to his lips, trails kisses on each finger, murmurs nonsensical things against your saliva-coated skin until, louder, he tells you—

“Everything you can give me, my lovely Master.”

And, oh, isn't that a wonderful thing to hear? That readiness of his—be it in battle or in bed, he rolls with everything you throw at him, as though there's nothing that can taint you in his eyes, no betrayal to feel forsaken by. As though all that he's done, all that he's doing, is in service to you.

And it's because of this that you use the same hand to cup at his jaw and jerk it in your direction, bowing down to kiss him, bite his lower lip, thrust your tongue inside, lick the roof of his mouth, suck his own tongue—devour him fully and utterly.

He meets your intent with his own, just as intense, just as parched and hungry as you are for him. Every exhale is accompanied by a soft sigh, and you swallow his every sound—that lovely and soothing voice that lingers in your mind and haunts the edges of your dreams. His reaction just drives you to speed up your pace.

He's trembling all over, and tries to shift the angle from which you're riding him. Doing so affords his cock to hit something inside you, lighting up your body, starburst behind your eyelids, and you jolt, a whimper tearing out of your throat that Xavier drinks greedily. His hand on your ass traverses to your clit and plays with it, intensifying the blast of sensations on your lower body.

Obstructed by your mouth, Xavier tries: “My lady, I think—I'm close.”

“Me too, I'm—don't hold back—”

He doesn't. And he doubles his efforts in relentlessly stroking your clit and pounding up inside you, and the pleasure crests and crests and crests until you pulse and clench and come, sobbing at the white-hot crash flooding your nerves, collapsing on top of Xavier, mouths still connected.

And he doesn't stop. This time both his hands bracket your hips; grinds you down as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you. You're oversensitive but you don't stop him, just clinging to him and whimpering, and he begins to assail your ear, his panting tangible and hot against your skin.

“My lady, my lady,” he chants, voice shattering like glass. “My lady—Master—”

His orgasm feels like an echo of your own release, his spend filling inside you. Xavier gives a few more thrusts before slowing down and stopping. A self-satisfied sigh ripples over his relaxed body, and his hands climb to your back, guide you to pillow your head on his chest, embracing you as you melt on top of him.

Minutes pass, and his breathing evens; you expected him to fall asleep after, but when you look up his eyes are emphatically open.

“Aren't you sleeping?”

He glances down at you. Quirks a smile. “No, not yet.”

“Oh ...”

“We're not finished, my lady.”

“Huh?”

“You've had your fill, Master.” He smirks. Then flips you over, reversing your positions so he's now on top of you. He starts unbuttoning your shirt. “Now let me have mine.”

[archiveikemen]

Vogel’s Extremely Indulgent Time-Killing: Twitter Campaign

— Part 7: Target 6, Roger 🔫

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Darius: Treacherous doctor.

Nica: Muscular doctor in glasses.

Ring: Big brother who likes dogs.

Darius: Is Roger a dog owner?

Nica: According to my research, he has a corgi named Ale back at his family home.

Nica: Its butt is so fluffy and adorable… I wonder if he’ll let me play him it if I asked.

Darius: I want to play with it too.

Nica • Ring: …

⇦ Part 6┊Part 8 ⇨

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Idk if it's just me but I LOVE the idea of the riddlers with a pet dog(most likely a small breed)that is there best friend and major weakness (I like to think there dynamics would be similar to Holt and cheddar from Brooklyn 99)but what do you think? How would the riddlers be with a pet dog?

"Riddlers with Dogs" Riddler Party Ask

Okay so I only ever saw like one or two episodes of B99 so I had to look up a Cheddar compilation. But I was chanting "dog" over and over again for this ask. Very excited. How they are with a pet dog plus the breed/mix.

Tw: animal abuse/neglect

Gotham

English bulldog mix. He gained a fondness for them after meeting Edward (Oswalds dog) a while back. Once he's further along in his career and he knows he can manage the care given his sometimes erratic schedule, he goes to Gotham animal shelter and finds a stunning lad to take home. And, in honor of his sometimes companion (sometimes lover), he names the dog Oswald.

Oswald hates this. He rolls his eyes once he finds out.

Oswald (the dog) gets a stunning green leather collar with a golden question mark tag along with his actual name and rabies tags. The inside is very soft for Edward's special little boy.

This dog is so fucking spoiled. Edward cooks it special meals to reduce gas problems associated with the breed and keep his weight in control. There's fancy fresh food in the fridge for when he doesn't have the time to cook and meal prep. Special wipes for his skin folds. Oatmeal and milk baths for Oswald's skin.

He gets the dog a special fucking pillow when he hears Oswald (the dog) snoring when he sleeps. His vaccine and medical records are meticulously kept. Yes he sleeps in the bed with Edward, usually curled into the small of Edward's back once he turns on his side. His need for a particular schedule is so nice with a dog because despite how lazy Oswald (the dog) is, he follows Edward religiously.

60s

Older corgi mix. Goofy looking, huge fluffy butt, and has ripped Batman's cape before. Straight up dug his teeth in and acted as though he was at least twice his size. This clever and handsome chap comes to be known as Pascal. He just sort of showed up one day in the middle of Riddler's heist.

Pascal is a speedy little old man, sometimes being used as a very short legged scout for Edward's schemes. Sometimes Edward wonders where his fluffy companion came from with his specks of grey fur and wizened eyes. One time on a very peculiar little adventure outside of Gotham in a rural part of the U.S., Pascal leaves the safe comforts of their vehicle to herd sheep out of the road. Then he hops back up and looks to Edward as if to say "I fixed it for you."

He's likely to have the most reminiscent relationship to the B99 dynamic where, if another villain tried to use Pascal as a bargaining tool, Edward would inevitably turn to Batman to save his little buddy! He can't just risk Pascal getting hurt! and he needs his arthritis medication soon or his joints will ache- His JOINTS, Batman!

As sad as it is to think of a beloved pet passing on, Pascal gets to live his last years loved and pampered. Warm. No pain and definitely never bored. There's a lot of wild adventures this old man gets to have. When he goes of old age, most of the rogues gallery and even Batman and Robin themselves attend the service.

Zero Year

Oh. He got a doberman. Intelligent. Sleek. Intimidating looking. He even named her Minerva. He was expecting a guard dog that stood wise as an extension of himself.

What he actually got: Neurotic. Separation anxiety. Practically jumps into his arms when it rains because she can't stand getting her feetsies wet. He does realize the irony of this given he'd flooded the city at one point. He opts to buy her little rain booties.

He chose not to have her docked or clipped- In truth, he was planning on the appointment when she was a puppy but last minute changed his mind because he thought of her cute floppy ears and curled tail being gone. If you ask, he'll say it's because he realized it was illogical since she's not a show dog and it has no known health benefits. It's bullshit.

She has emeralds in her collar. Highly trained in the sense that she never makes a mess in the house and drops anything she's not supposed to chew on. That and, despite her real nature, she can put on a show with her teeth on command to scare any idiots off.

What they don't see is her wagging, thumping tail when he info-dumps to her. Or practices lines. One of the few creatures on the Earth that truly doesn't care what a narcissist he is. His beautiful Minerva.

BTAS

Some kind of chihuahua-terrier mix. She shivers a lot. Edward takes the dog in from the shelter shortly after one of his stints in Arkham. Trying on taking a new leaf. Again. Maybe an animal dependent on him will keep him on his toes. She has a partly white fur pattern that reminds him of a lab coat. He names her Curie.

Given her namesake, Edward has taught her several commands in French if for no other reason then he thinks it's cute. There's something about saying, "Curie, allons y-" And hearing the pitter patter of her claws on the tile and wood floors.

He is that guy who buys his dogs clothes. In fairness, it's because she actually gets cold in the Gotham winters. Logically, that means she needs cute sweaters and coats! And little shoes for when it snows. Honestly, she's going to be absolutely darling and the envy of all the neighbors.

He loves cuddling in his lap when he's working on stuff. It's funny, she's almost like a house cat when she does that.

Will commit unspeakable acts if someone tried to cause harm to Curie.

Arkham

You ever see one of those snaggle-tooth little dogs missing a damn eye and you have no idea how old it is? The scruffiest little mutt you've ever seen. Breed is indistinguishable but it's on the smaller end. Wiry coat, looks like something just pulled from the dryer.

This little creature stumbles upon him shaking and soaking wet from a storm during the events of Arkham City. He almost feels pity for it, barely able to see due to the matting over it's face. He wonders briefly if it was a runaway or a dump. He pulls a small bit of jerky he still has in his pocket from earlier and gives it to the pup.

What he doesn't expect is for it to follow him. Even as he tries to shoo it away. No more food, you mangy mutt! Yet it continues to follow. Edward shuts the door to his hideout on it. He can see it on cameras waiting out there for him to come back.

With a frustrated sigh, he eventually opens the door and allows the creature in. Gives it a choppy but functional haircut to get rid of any matting. Feeds it whatever food he can find that won't make the dog sick. Eventually he finds out the dog is a male, maybe a year old.

He dubs the puppy Asimov after writer and biochemistry professor Isaac Asimov. He acts as though he doesn't care for the dog much, but every once in a while he praises Asimov for the little tricks he's learned and the cleverness he exhibits. He'd probably stomp someone to the ground if they tried to take this dog from him.

Telltale

Basset Hound. He got ownership of this dog by complete accident. Basically he was on his revenge mission, taking down someone involved in keeping him trapped by SANCTUS- He didn't realize the person had a dog. So now he was in a room with a corpse who failed his riddle and there was a very curious dog that wanted to bark and howl the moment he left the room.

So he took the dog. For everything that Eddie stands for, this dog is the opposite. He's dopey, noisy, and messy. A bumbling creature that lays down to roll over when Eddie asks it to sit. And yet... The moment he can't find something, the dog manages to show up less than two minutes later with it on the ground in front of him, nudging it with his nose.

The dog is named Columbo. Yes, after the tv show detective. He thinks it's funny given the dogs propensity for finding "evidence" where no one else can. Plus, Columbo on the show had a basset hound. It fits. No, Eddie is not a nerd, how dare you.

The dog has a special dog bed on the floor at the foot of Riddler's bed. He's very strict on places the dog can be and where it can sit and lay. He's a strong believer that dogs shouldn't just hang out on furniture. This is struck out when there are thunderstorms because Columbo will howl and cry until he's allowed to bury into the bed under the covers with his dad.

For every complaint he might have about the dog, Eddie absolutely shows him off and brags. They start to resemble each other in their wrinkles.

2022/Nashton

Pitbull mix. She was chained up, cropped ears and way too thin. He'd found her while doing recon on some low level mook for one of Gotham's drug lords. He looked into those big sad eyes, and he managed to sneak her home. He names her Ada Lovelace or just Ada after the first computer programmer.

It was actually difficult at first because she was fear aggressive and very shy. Lots of snapping at him and trying to hide. He understood that feeling. With a lot of patience and him teaching her that he's not a threat, this pittie would become a wiggly lovebug that tackles him at night once he comes home from riddler nonsense. Full slobber on his glasses.

Ada helps with his depression because unlike the rats (unfortunately) she can cuddle with him at night and ooze devotion and love at her master. There's something so healing about the unwavering loyalty and warmth a dog can offer. Plus he can tell her anything and she still just rolls on top of him wanting belly rubs.

He would kill someone for this dog. If anyone hurt her, he would probably torture them on stream and make it A Thing that they were a dog abuser before rocking their shit. Then full body hugs his baby while she wiggles in his arms.

[corgigurl]

Introduction to the Corgi

The corgi, a loyal and lovable dog breed that has been around for thousands of years according to Dogs and Cats by Sue Wallace. Known for their fluffy coats and short stubby legs the corgi is a perfect family dog as well as a suitable one for the Queen of England. 

Just like any other dog they need a lot of training and care. If not trained properly they can cause damage as all untrained dogs will do. Trained or not they can and will get into mischief but that’s what makes it such a good dog. Stubborn, loyal, and playful is part of a corgi and it’s what makes them a great companion. I want to learn and be able to provide the best care and love for my corgi. 

In my blog I will be looking into the most famous and popular corgi breed known as the Pembroke Welsh. I will be mostly exploring history of the corgis and the purpose they were bred for. I will also be discussing how they grew in popularity, the NY post discusses the rise in their popularity mostly came from their appearance, there most iconic factor being there rounded fluffy butt. I want to gather all the information I can whether it be about their behavior or breed. Corgis have a variety of breeds with many different characteristics and traits that make them unique. The breeds of corgis have several different color coats, face shapes, floppy or straight ears, and might have a tail or maybe not. There is so much to explore and I can’t wait to show you what I find!

[mcndyhcrtmcn]

Mandy let out a soft laugh. "That would be kind of funny, actually. A giraffe with short legs?" she grinned. "Who would think of a giraffe as threatening in the first place?" she hummed. It would be pretty funny to see animals in different ratios beyond what people would usually expect. "Yeah, I don't think corgis will make good guard dogs, but they still can give pretty good side eye," she mused with a nod. "Oh yeah, he's gonna make you run around and chase his fluffy little butt. That potato doesn't like to work out but he will make you work out!"

"It's true," he laughed, nodding his head, "sort of like trying to imagine what a giraffe would look like with short legs, or if a shark was shaped more like a blow fish." You could try to reimagine animals for the sake of being creative, but they were never going to look quite right if you set them too far apart from how they were created. Besides, they had their reasons for looking like that, she was sure. "I guess that means he's not going to do you much good as a guard dog, either, since that face isn't going to be scaring anyone away," he gestured towards Gatsby with a laugh. Might distract a burgular long enough to let her call the police, he supposed. "He just likes to give you a work out!"

[byoungernj]

Berlin Training & Life Changes

I’ve been in the Denver airport now for 5 hours. My flight was suppose to take off on time. We waited for a few passengers who had delayed connections. Then we waited 45 minutes for their bags. We finally pull away from the airport and a light comes on in the cockpit. We deplaned, re-boarded a new plane and waited for all of the bags/cargo to be moved over. I have my fingers crossed that these will be the only travel hiccups I experienced in the next 48 hours because I am Berlin bound tomorrow! 

To avoid an 8 or 9 month delay again I’m taking this time to recap my training for Berlin because a lot of life happened in these past 20 weeks. This spring I took my time coming back from that nagging knee pain/injury I had in the fall during my NYC build. After a number of weeks off and no change in pain I decided to say f it and power forward. I would be in SC for 2 months for a clinical so maybe the change of scenery would help. (Apparently it did because I’m happy to report I’ve been pain free for months) I started studying for my PT boards while in SC and felt instantly behind. Everyone’s advise was to stick to the school provided review book but I felt very under prepared. Worse, my final clinical at home wasn’t the best. It required 3, 15 hour days with a commute and clinic hours, plus another 7 hour day. It was tough to balance clinical, studying, and working part time. Our family had some personal stress occurring during this time as well that made free time very important to spend together. Heading into April I was stressed beyond my limits. To put a cherry on top, a week before my exam I found out someone has my SSN. The first week of May I was back in Slip for graduation week. Needless to say I sweat through a few shirts the days the results were predicted to come out and when they did, oh boy were there tears of joy. I think I laid on the floor for a solid 45 minutes catching my breath. I capped off the first week of May with graduation and had a dream job ready for me in Portland, OR. To add some spice to my life, I adopted a puppy. And not just any puppy, a baked potato, bread loaf, fluffy flipping CORGI who is so perfect he can’t be real. 

Dream job in the one place I have been dreaming about living in for years, check.

Dream pup I had wanted since I went to grad school the first time, check. 

Start training the week after graduation for my first international marathon, now loading.

I spent just about the first half of my build in NJ, with a 2 week stint in Colorado while I volunteered at the Oly Training Center. I decided to test myself this go around. After I broke 3 hours I struggled with what would be next. I’ve already achieved my overarching goal, let’s see what these legs could do. I had been training to run 6:50 pace for a long time. So you know what would be a good challenge, trying to run 6:40 pace. I would take old workouts and add a mile here or there. I didn’t want to overwhelm myself with mileage but I wanted to start trying more. 

The most humbling workout was at the hand of altitude. I had 800s planned while in Colorado Springs. I’ve never done internals at altitude. The tempos I had done the week before went well but this was an entirely new monster. My first 200 meters would be perfect and every rep, like clock work, at 240 meters my legs would burn. I mean FIRE. And it wouldn’t just be in my legs, coming through the 400 my arms would burn. Never in my life have I experienced muscle burn in the water pistols I call arms. My times were not great. They were not bad. But I got my butt handed to me 8 times.

The first real test was the week I was set to move. The goat himself Craig-a-roo joined me for 2x5 mile at MP. With his perfect sherpa pacing we cruised through right on pace. It was exactly what I needed heading into the second half of my build. I spent 6.5 days on the road, with a 4 month old puppy. While on the road my first stop was in Slip for a wedding, which was a nice send off. I ran in a teeny tiny town south of Chicago, along the Iowa/Nebraska border, in Cheyenne Wyoming and Ogden Utah. Wyoming was my least favorite state to drive through, it’s what I imagine the bottom of the ocean to look like minus the water. Driving along the gorge separating Oregon and Washington on the final day was beautiful, with a quick stop by the Multnomah Falls. I was able to run each day but had to trash my workout. I had planned to do so the first morning in Portland. But when I set off I had found the hilly-est route in Beaverton. I scrapped it, made it a fartlek, and called it a recovery week. I swapped that workout a few weeks later and it went just fine. A week after the change, I crushed a workout on the track. I quickly considered myself back on track…pun intended. 

Training Oregon has been a dream. There is ZERO humidity. Well, maybe there is a little but when I’m used to 90% and in the upper 70s-80s out, low humidity and 60s feels magical. With recommendations from my new boss, I found these beauty of a trail that is 22 miles long and mostly shaded by beautiful green PNW foliage. Along the Willamette is Sauvie Island, which is a runners paradise made famous by Shalane herself. It’s an island sandwiched between the 2 sides of Portland, filled with farms, no traffic lights, no disruptions, and flat as a pancake. Once my tempos got into the double digits I would head over the bridge to Sauvie as the sun would come up. Gosh have all of those miles been magical. I’ve been amazed at my legs ability to hit paces. The only workout I laced up the super shoes for was a 12 mile tempo that turned in a half marathon PB. I’ve closed workouts with volumes of 10+ miles with sub 6:10 miles. I’ve been excited to push myself in ways I haven’t felt before. Even my worst workout 2 weeks ago, I shrugged off because I know the effort didn’t hinder my prep. This new found ‘do what I can’ attitude is pretty nice. 

Berlin is now 5 days away. Will I attempt to run 6:40s for the whole thing? No actually. I’ve found I’m pushing a bit too hard to sustain that pace for all 26.2. But 6:45-6:50 is doable. And that would still be a PB. Have I also accepted that I am traveling to a country I’ve never been to before and if life happens then okay. Just get to the finish line and get your fourth star. These past 4-5 months have held big life changes, all for the better. I’ve fallen deeper in love with marathon training. Life is happening and I’m here for it. But first, a quick pit stop in Jersey. 

[inks-books]

Meet Will To Live

Or Will for short (really short cause he’s a corgi). Three fun facts about Will: 1. He’s feet drag the ground because his legs are too short to pick them up

2. His butt is fatter than his head and shakes side to side when he walks, and his ear ears flipflop when he runs.

3. Has already established he’s a cat person because he likes my cats more than he likes my other dog, Bear, who is wanting to go back to being an only child again LOL

Bear has yelled at me for an hour straight about this fluffy potato with pigeon toed legs that won’t stop taking absolutely ALL of my attention (I’ve been playing with them both equally). 

[meowk9]

Fun Facts and Cute Photos of Corgi Puppies

If you're a dog lover, you've likely heard of the adorable and beloved corgi breed. Corgis have won the hearts of many with their short legs, fluffy butts, and expressive faces. Among the corgi breed, corgi puppies are some of the most adorable and playful dogs you'll ever meet. In this article, Meowk9 will dive into some fun facts about corgi puppies and share some cute photos that will make you fall in love with them even more.

History of Corgi Puppies

The corgi breed originated in Wales and was primarily used as a herding dog. They were specifically bred to work with cattle and were highly valued for their ability to nip at the cattle's heels and avoid being kicked. Corgi puppies were eventually brought to the United Kingdom in the early 20th century and became popular among the royal family. Queen Elizabeth II is perhaps the most famous corgi owner, having owned over 30 corgis throughout her reign.

Characteristics of Corgi Puppies

Physical Appearance Corgi puppies are small and have a unique appearance that sets them apart from other dog breeds. They have short legs, long bodies, and a fluffy butt that is irresistible to many. Corgi puppies can be either Pembroke Welsh corgis or Cardigan Welsh corgis, with slight differences in their physical appearance. Temperament and Personality Corgi puppies are known for their friendly and outgoing personalities. They are incredibly social dogs that love to be around people and other animals. Corgis are also highly intelligent and trainable, making them excellent companions for families and individuals alike.

Health Concerns for Corgi Puppies

Despite their adorable appearance, corgi puppies can be prone to certain health conditions that owners should be aware of. Obesity Corgis have a tendency to gain weight easily, which can lead to obesity if not properly managed. It's important to monitor your corgi puppy's diet and exercise to ensure they maintain a healthy weight. Hip Dysplasia Hip dysplasia is a common condition in corgis, which can cause pain and discomfort as they age. It's important to monitor your corgi puppy's activity levels and provide appropriate exercise to help prevent hip dysplasia from developing. Intervertebral Disc Disease (IVDD) IVDD is a condition that can affect corgis due to their long bodies and short legs. It's important to monitor your corgi puppy's mobility and seek medical attention if they show any signs of pain or discomfort.

Training and Exercise for Corgi Puppies

Obedience Training Corgi puppies are highly intelligent and respond well to obedience training. It's important to start training your corgi puppy early and provide consistent training throughout their life. Socialization Socialization is a crucial aspect of raising a corgi puppy, as it helps them develop appropriate behavior and social skills. It's important to expose your corgi puppy to a variety of people, animals, and environments from a young age to ensure they grow up to be well-adjusted and friendly dogs. Exercise Requirements Corgi puppies may have short legs, but they still require regular exercise to maintain good health. Daily walks and playtime can help keep your corgi puppy active and engaged.

Corgi Puppies in Pop Culture

Corgi puppies have gained a significant following in popular culture, with their adorable appearance and playful personalities making them a favorite among many. In recent years, corgi puppies have been featured in numerous TV shows and movies, including "The Crown" and "101 Dalmatians."

How to Adopt a Corgi Puppy

If you're interested in adopting a corgi puppy, there are several options available. You can check with local animal shelters and rescue organizations to see if they have any corgi puppies available for adoption. You can also search online for reputable breeders that specialize in corgi puppies.

Conclusion

Corgi puppies are truly adorable and make excellent companions for families and individuals alike. Their playful personalities and unique appearance make them a favorite among many dog lovers. It's important to remember that corgi puppies, like all dogs, require proper care and attention to ensure they remain healthy and happy.

FAQs

Are corgi puppies good with children?Yes, corgi puppies are generally good with children and make great family pets.How much exercise do corgi puppies need?Corgi puppies require at least 30 minutes of exercise per day to maintain good health.Do corgi puppies shed a lot?Yes, corgi puppies are known to shed frequently and require regular grooming to manage their coat.Can corgi puppies be left alone for long periods of time?No, corgi puppies are social dogs and should not be left alone for extended periods of time.Do corgi puppies have any special health needs?Corgi puppies can be prone to certain health conditions, such as hip dysplasia and IVDD, and require proper care and attention to maintain good health. Read the full article

[mcndyhcrtmcn]

We are a good team. Ha, I see what you did there. We’re meant to be a troublemaking team. That’s why we’re so fun! I think that’s a thing. I’ve seen it pop up here and there. We both know my fyp is full of fluffy cows and corgi butts. Oh he is! He knows what’s up. He’s gonna have his own following. Look at how cute he is with his fluffy butt and stumpy legs. We will have our own team of troublemakers. I love it. Oh do you, now? Maybe I like it too, haha. Wanna go to the gardens, maybe plant some flowers?

Me…! Never! Except fot always, and therefore, yeah, you're right. That's why we make such a good team, though, since we're both troublemakers! You, the middle child, and me, the only child. We don't count Chetan, since he's just my step-brother, but you know. You can be a TikToker known for all of their art content, is that a thing? I admittedly don't spend a ton of time on TikTok! But I think that Gatsby would be a pretty cute little sidekick for all of your influencing, too, don't you? I can loan you Whit and Bowie, as well! They'll join in. Maybe I just like to bribe you for fun. Speaking of, though, we should get up to some earth fun.

[corgi-sploots-all-day]

Hi! Welcome to my blog if you’re anyone other than me reading this! I’m a corgi owner and absolutely love talking about my girl/the breed. I wanted to create a little blog to, not only document our journey together and have a space dedicated to just talking about her, but also to indulge in my love for those fluffy butts and lil legs!

Do you want a corgi? Curious about life with one? Just love the breed? Are you a dog person? Or maybe a cat person with a distant admiration for dogs? Maybe you’re like me and just love seeing/hearing about dog stories! Then feel free to explore this page, ask questions, share your silly pet stories, or even follow! I look forward to sharing with you!

[fiyazu-lorko]

okay I want to know about all your wips but in particular hotties with cute puppies: a 2021 sounds amazing! So I need to know more!

yesss!!!! i actually started this one for you, aj! this is why i was pestering you and liz about fave dog breeds like half a year ago.

in short, zutara meet at a dog park.

zuko has a dalmation and an aussie. katara has a husky.

modern au fluff and slow burn ensues.

Here's the intro:

The red ink from her Sharpie marker flowed a little too easily as Katara spitefully crossed off November 30th. Suki had given her this “Hot People with Cute Puppies” 2020 calendar as a gift last December. Neither of them could have predicted how important such a simple gift would become in staving off the wretched scent that stank off in waves from the dumpster fire of a year that was 2020. Every month was a new wave of bullshit, as unpredictable and miserable as the last.

And yet, every month brought a new puppy. If Katara had been enamored with puppies before, she was obsessed now. January was a Jack Russel Terrier. February was a Frenchie. March was a Maltese. April was an Afghan. May was a Mastiff. June was a Japanese Akita. July was a Japanese Shiba Inu. And August… oh, August.

Katara flipped the calendar back to her favorite hot person with a cute puppy: Miss August. August 2020 hadn’t been that bad. Things had calmed down to the extent that it felt like the world may have finally gotten a handle on 2020. There was some hope, some sense of, “Maybe we can do this!”

Katara wished she could do Miss August. Miss August was a radiant thing, head tipped back with laughter, surrounded by a gaggle of Australian Shepherd puppies, one licking at her face. She sat cross-legged in a pair of high-waisted shorts, white Converse sneakers, and not much else. Well, nothing else, actually. Her long and dark hair hung loose and cascaded around her shoulders. Katara had quickly figured out that there were only three rules for this calendar: 1) everyone gets a puppy. 2) everyone is hot. 3) everyone is shirtless.

It was a good calendar. Katara noticed how her red X’s that she used to tick off the days were a little less aggressive in August.

The red X’s got heavier in September. They were shaky in October. By November, they were a daily assault.

But, still, even in the dumpster fire of 2020, it was a good calendar.

Katara pressed a kiss to Miss August and flipped back to the current date. Onto December, she thought. What did 2020 have left to dish out? It couldn’t possibly get worse.

It didn’t get worse.

Far from worse.

Fuck.

Katara froze as she drank in Mr. December.

Fuck. What’s the opposite of worse? Her brain couldn’t think of the word. It couldn’t think of any words. It couldn’t think of anything. It just screamed at her to stay very fucking still and not move until it had memorized every inch of Mr. December.

The glossy picture showed a young, lean, well-cut, well-defined, mmmmmph of a man holding a dalmation puppy against his chest with one hand. His other hand was shoved into the pocket of his jeans that sat low on his hips. And, Katara’s brain ordered her eyes downward, he had a thumb hooked in his waistband, pushing those jeans slightly, just ever-so-slightly, low enough to show off a perfect V that led to…

“Fuuuuck,” Katara let out a shuddering breath. Maybe December would be alright.

[healingheartdogs]

If I tell him to do something while they're out at the same time and give him a treat for it you can bet she's going to suddenly appear and start copying whatever he's doing to get treats too

[godofvillains-arch]

"I care about those under me. If you work under me, then I am going to care about you because I am your leader. I don't take kind to leaders who treat their underlings as pawns or shields.. If I am at war, then I am there with them. And I will protect them if they are in my eye sights.." Unlike All For One, Shigaraki actually cared about others. He never dared use others as tools. He was loyal.

"Ah, you forgot one, a puppy too-- Mon-chan is my pet dog. He's a corgi. And he's got a fluffy butt that wiggles a lot when he's happy."

The villain god continues to gently tickle the little kitten who squeaked and wiggled around. Sooty was being so cute...

"You're welcome to spoil them all you like, I already do that. But I am fine with anyone wanting to love them more and spoil em.. But bring doggy treats too, Mon loves those."

"I think it's adorable how caring you can be when you want to be," Dei smiled up at her friend. It was true he tended to better the broken people he found lying around. At least. She felt better and more whole than she did when she had met him. Surely it was the same for the others or they wouldn't hold him in such high esteem.

"Four cats, a unicorn, and a big soft brute. I think really like it here," she teased. Dei turned herself so her legs were across his lap, giving him better access to the kitten on her chest.

"Maybe I should bring laser pointers and catnip toys. I want to spoil them. Just listen to that little motor! How could anyone not love it?!"

[ruthlesslistener]

are people on flight rising really saying that the corgi sploot is a sexual thing... i am BEGGING you to say sike

People were either saying that it was suggestive or that it was ‘deeply uncomfortable because the butt is the focal point’, which is also highly suspect imo, bc everyone is complaining about the fact that apparently a dog lounging with its back to you while looking over their shoulder ‘looks suggestive’ for some godawful reason known only to said bitchers

[that-one-oboist]

That post complaining abt the shitton of merch revolving around corgi @ss but it’s me complaining about the frankly way too high amount of French bulldog fart merch

[ihatebnha]

Yesss! Men do need to love animals! All Might like all animals, but especially the huge, fluffy dogs and cats, like Samoyed dogs and Maine Coon cats! Present Mic especially love talking birds like parrots and Mynah birds. Stain occasionally feed stray cats and dogs, and is quite fond of domestic rats because of how social and smart they are. Spinner will never admit it, but he has a soft spot for reptiles and barely can stop himself from gushing when he see cute geckos, turtles, snakes, etc.

*crying* yes... yes.............

Crying at the thought of All Might going nuts when he see dogs... even tho he has preferences, he can't help but giving all of them the ol' watermelon slap. I also see him looking good with little wiener dogs and corgis who wag their little butts at him... dogs probably LOVE him, too (because he's so bad at resisting puppy dog eyes at the dinner table)

Present Mic liking birds is making me laugh tho!!! looks like and LOVES parakeets, as well. anything colorful i feel like... also probably weirdly obsessed with like... koko the gorilla too LOOOL and other cute monkeys.

ALSO STAIN OMG... he's a fucking weirdo but i definitely imagine in a normal!au he's that guy who's like... always talking about how cool rodents are. probably even has a few that he plays with all the time and carries around LMFAOOO... but yes absolutely takes care of strays...

and spinner... YES!!!! ofc he's nice to ALL animals bc they are his Kin but especially in regard to what u said. gets into so many heated debates about the proper care of them and probably is obsessed with you if you have one. it's berry sweet, honestly.

ANYWAY... i was mostly thinking cats and dogs, but this was perfect anon, so thank u!!! thinking about this topic makes me all fuzzy inside tbh <333