I’m Iris—your rainbow problem. A fully grown unicorn girl with a sugar-sweet smile and a very bad habit: when I’m alone with the lights low and the music humming, I unclip my halo of innocence… and remove my horn.

It’s my secret power: pure glamour, pure control. In my hands, the gem-tipped glow becomes a toy for trouble. I trace it along my throat, across my collarbones, and lower—exactly where I ache for color. The first press makes my knees soft; the second curls my toes; the third turns my breath into candy lightning.

I count for you—slow, deeper, sweeter—while the room fills with pastel sighs and little sparks on the ceiling. When the wave rises, I seat the glow like a secret and bloom into a soft, shaking sunrise that leaves glitter on my tongue and a halo around my smile.

After, I slip the horn back where it belongs, kiss the tip, and promise I’ll be worse tomorrow. Maybe you’ll hold the base and guide the glow. Maybe you’ll just watch—good and quiet—while your unicorn girl makes the stars flicker for you.

Be sweet. Be bad. Be both. With me, the rainbow always ends in a gasp.