#*one-shot

A/N: this was very random but I saw this [x] outfit on tik tok and immediately pictured hwa wearing it, and had a visceral reaction to the thought. then I wrote this cause yeah I’m a pervert and was too freaked out lmao so enjoy my cherries ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊ feedback is always welcomed!

You rested against the edge of the bed, arms crossed loosely, the dim flicker of the amber lamplight casting a glow across the room. The bathroom door had been shut for nearly five minutes, and you could hear the faint rustle of clothing and the occasional nervous mumble behind it.

“Hwa,” you called, playful but calm. “You don’t have to be anxious, you’re going to look so good.”

There was a pause.

“Are you sure?” His voice came muffled through the door. “It’s kind of…tight.”

You smiled to yourself, getting excited just picturing it. “That’s the point, baby. Trust me — you’re going to ruin me.”

Another beat of silence. A soft exhale.

The doorknob turned and then he stepped out.

Hood up. Bunny ears flopped gently over silver hair. The black ribbed knit sculpted to him like sin — snug over his chest and arms, zipper half-drawn down the middle with a tiny heart-shaped pull glinting in the light. The fabric molded to his waist, cinching him in, and the cut at the hips left little to the imagination. His thighs were toned and lean, calves flexing as he shifted from one bare foot to the other, clearly uncertain.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

He looked away, biting his lip, blushing high on his cheeks. “Too much…or not enough?”

“What?” You laughed tenderly, stepping closer as if you were being pulled by gravity. “No. You don’t get it. You look…insane.”

Your eyes trailed down — past his crimson cheeked face, the curve of his shoulders, his collarbones a little hidden under the soft edge of the hood. The suit hugged his abdomen so fiercely you could see the lines of his abs flex every time he adjusted his stance. And his waist — dear god, his waist. The way the fabric dipped in, the way it framed him like it had been sewn to worship his body.

“I would give anything to see you in this every single day,” you declared, “you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

He peered at you through his lashes, a quiet, nearly bashful smile spreading across his face.

“Turn around,” you gently commanded. “Let me see the back.”

He hesitated — just for a second — then turned.

You groaned.

The bunny tail — soft and pink and bushy — sat right above the curve of his ass, perfectly perched between his hips, which were strained by the frame. The back was nearly bare — just thin ties knotted low at the waist holding the knit in place, leaving his spine exposed and his shoulder blades on full display.

His back was lithe and strong, blades shifting as he moved, muscles flexing in small, rippling waves beneath tan, flushed skin.

“You’re not real,” you whispered. “You can’t be.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “You really like it?”

“Like it?” You licked your lips, devouring him with your eyes. “Baby, you’re the kind of creature I’d sell my soul for. You are the most rare, succulent toy. You are the bunny of my dreams.”

His breath caught. The blush darkened.

“Fuck– I’m obsessed with you,” you moved another inch directly behind him now, “you’re unbelievable.”

You circled him wantonly, dragging your eyes over every inch like you were committing it to memory — or maybe preparing to ruin it beyond recognition.

“Hwa, this suit should be illegal on you.”

He flinched slightly at your tone — not from fear, but anticipation. The deep, simmering hunger behind your words made the hairs on his neck stand up.

“Do you even understand how delicious you look right now?” You moved closer, letting your fingers graze the dip in his lower back.

He swallowed hard.

And then your gaze dropped — and locked.

The material pulled taut over his crotch — clung against the thick, heavy outline of his cock, so defined it made you drool. You could see how the outfit struggled to contain him, daring to be freed, straining at the seams like he was already half hard from your praise alone.

“Oh my god,” words stuck in your throat, almost in awe, “you’re huge in this.”

His pelvis tensed — instinctual, embarrassed, turned on.

“Look at you,” you crooned, eyes still glued on the mouthwatering shape beneath the fabric. “It’s obscene. I can see everything — every vein, every inch, the way you’re hanging like you want to be sucked through it.”

He let out an uneven exhale, unable to keep eye contact.

“You’re lucky I’m not on my knees already.” You took another step in, barely ghosting his hip just above the strings dangling there. “This outfit might cover you, but it doesn’t hide you. If anything…it’s putting you on display. All slutty and desperate. I bet you’re already leaking, aren’t you?”

“Don’t—” he gasped, voice caught in his gullet.

“Don’t what?” Your words were laced with wicked affection. “Don’t talk about how badly I want you in my mouth right now? Don’t talk about how you’d appear even prettier with your thighs shaking while I fuck you with my tongue through the cloth?”

His head dropped back with a soft whine, he couldn’t take it — like you were dragging the desire out of him with every filthy word.

“And the best part?” You pressed in, lips brushing the edge of his hood near his ear, “This was made for you. Beautiful bunny with that cock, that body, that face…this isn’t even cosplay anymore. It’s your skin.”

He shivered, hands curling into fists.

“Spin for me again, baby,” you said, tone velvety and stern, “show me what that tail’s hiding. I’m not done admiring you.”

You prowled around him again, slower this time, feasting on every inch of him — but kept your hands to yourself. You didn’t want your slender tail-slut to get hard yet.

He stood there in the center of the room, breathing shallow under your burning gaze. The bunny hood flopped over one eye, his cheeks rosy with heat, chest heaving.

You came up behind him and closed in, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, “Still limp, right, baby?”

He nodded wordlessly, pupils dilating.

“Good.” You kissed him again, just behind the ear. “You need to stay like that for this next part.”

You walked away just long enough to retrieve it — the gift of hard pink plastic. A cock ring, cool and shining under the lamp light, shaped to engulf him snug and tight. You held it up where he could see, watching the realization ripple down his spine.

“Bought this for you the moment I saw this outfit,” your voice low and sweet. “Hot pink, like that cute little tail because you belong to me.”

He looked entranced, gagging for it pathetically and speechless.

“You do belong to me, right?” A cocky grin splayed along your mouth as you crossed the room again.

He nodded again, faster now. “Yes.”

“Mmm. Now hold still.”

Your hands moved to the front of the suit, slowly dragging the material to the side just enough to reveal him. His flaccid cock rested dense against his thigh, flexible and warm pink, not yet reacting but ready to be touched. His hips stuttered a little as the air hit him, and your fingers—tender, reverent—cupped his balls.

“God,” you hummed, eyes dark. “You look so fuckable like this and I haven’t even started yet.”

You worked carefully, pulling his balls through the ring first, letting them settle against the cool plastic. Then your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, guiding it through, easing the ring up until it sat firm — pretty and vulgar and absolutely perfect.

The moment it was in place, your mouth brushed the shell of his ear again.

“There,” your lips curled into a lustful grin, “a different kind of collared, and much hotter. Pretty little cock tied up all for me — in pink, no less.”

You let the fabric snap back into place, now stretched tighter over the new shape. You could already see the beginnings of a heartier bulge — not from arousal, but just from the way the pink grip lifted and curved him forward. Pressed, exposed, unmistakably owned.

He whimpered — full-bodied, carnal and needy.

“You don’t get to touch it,” you added, fingers teasingly close to his growing erection. “But you’re going to feel it… every little shift, every breath. That ring’s gonna remind you who you belong to.”

You pulled him into a deep kiss, tongues massaging together, your hands clawing up his body, over the cinch of the suit, one hand cradling the back of his neck while the other pressed against the stretch over his cock.

“You’re the filthiest thing I’ve ever dressed up,” you moaned into his mouth. “And I’m going to make sure you feel like it.”

He was still wide-eyed with burning cheeks when you took his hand and laced your fingers through his.

“C’mere,” you said, affectionate and dangerous.

He followed instantly — no hesitation now, just obedient little bunny steps, hood still up and ears bouncing kindly with each movement. You led him into the kitchen, the warm glow of the overhead lights casting shadows on his thighs, his waist, the way the suit embraced him, strung so rough now that the cock ring had started to do its job.

You opened the freezer with one hand and pulled out a cherry-red popsicle, opening it while looking at him deliberately. Leaning against the counter, you took a long, smutty drag of the frozen treat across your tongue. The cold made you shudder. The taste was sugary and sticky.

Then you turned to him, holding the popsicle out.

“Open.”

He did. Full pink lips parted, eyes glassy.

You fed him a lick — let him wrap his mouth around it, moan obsessively at the temperature. The red staining his wet plump lips. You watched some slide down his chin but didn’t wipe it off.

“Good boy,” you bit off the top of the popsicle and sucked it until it melted into your taste buds, “you’re doing so well for me.”

Hwa blinked drunkenly like he was barely holding on, cock visibly spasming beneath the cloth now — the ring straining, the shaft glossy with precum that had already started to soak through.

You dropped the rest of the popsicle into the sink and wiped your hand on a towel, then sank to your knees.

“Hands at your sides,” you barked sharply. “Keep them there. No matter what.”

He nodded, breath trembling.

You tugged at the front of the costume, peeled it just low enough to free his cock — flushed, swollen, thick and heavy, bound at the base by that cruel pink collar. He throbbed in the air, easily dripping for you, twitching helplessly above the waistband.

“Look at you,” you hummed, breath slipping over the tip. “So hard. So full. Just waiting for me.”

Your tongue swirled across the head, devastatingly steady and cold — still coated with cherry.

He bit back a moan, thighs flexing, hands shaking as he fought to keep them off you.

“You taste that tart sugar? That’s what your cock’s gonna be soaked in by the time I’m done with you. You remember that every time you put this outfit on.”

And then you enveloped your lips around him.

Chilled mouth. Wet heat. Tongue rolling along the underside while the cock ring kept him achingly hard, trapped at full pressure. He moaned, loud and wrecked, hips rutting forward before he froze — remembering your rule.

You glanced up at him, drinking in the sight, hollowing your cheeks, sucking harder and guiding him down your throat before pulling back and smiling devilishly. Lips stretched around the thick, pulsing head of his cock as you listened to the strangled noises he made.

He was so close.

You could feel it — the way his thighs quivered under your hands, the way his cock convulsed violently against your tongue, more intense than before, weighing with need and trapped by the unforgiving grip of that pink cock ring. His hands were still at his sides, balled into fists, his jaw slack and eyes unfocused.

You sucked him deeper, letting your throat flex around him, your lips compressed around the base. He sobbed above you, breath catching like it hurt.

“I’m gonna— I-I’m gonna cum,” he rasped, barely able to get the words out.

You moaned around him — and then pulled off.

The second your mouth left, he choked on a noise that was somewhere between a scream and a sob. His cock pulsed uncontrollably in the air, precum oozing freely now, and you watched — eyes wide and pleased — as his hips jerked once, twice—

And then he came.

Not with pleasure. Not with release. But with need.

Thick spurts of cum painted the tile below, pouring in messy lines, and he made a broken, wrecked sound — clearly overwhelmed by the ruin. Like his whole body was being ripped apart and there was no way to stop it.

Tears welled in his eyes. His knees buckled. He didn’t touch you. Didn’t move. Just stood there, vibrating, bare and breathless, cock still bound at the base, swollen and glistening, the ring keeping him too stiff to breathe.

You stood gingerly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and stepped into his space. His lips pouted, damp eyes filled with defeat and surrender.

“Aww,” you cooed sweetly, tilting his chin up. “Are those tears?”

He blinked, one falling slowly down his cheek.

You giggled — mocking and delighted.

And then you leaned in and kissed him there. Right on the tear.

“You’re such a bad bunny,” toying with him, you let your mouth wander and nip at his earlobe with your teeth. “You came so quickly. Didn’t even let me play with you properly.”

Clicking your tongue as a finger slid down his slick length. He sniffled, ashamed, eager to cum again, and throbbing painfully in the aftermath of his ruined orgasm.

“Guess we’ll have to try again.” Your fingers curled around his cock once again, giving it one quick pump in your fist, then another.

He cried out — whole body jolting, legs going weak.

“I didn’t say we were done,” you said, voice silky and hungry like the richest sin. “You’ll stay hard while the ring’s on, which means I still get to play.”

You started stroking him lazily — not to build him up too fast, but to drag it out. Every nerve overstimulated. Every inch raw and wet and too sensitive to handle.

Dizzy and melting, Hwa huffed, tears sliding freely now.

You snuggled and smirked along his sharp jaw, so loving—so brutal.

“My pretty little bunny,” you purred. “We’re just getting started.”

© written by teezslvt— do not steal or claim as your own 𓆩♡𓆪