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valmare · 4 months

Note

happy happy HAPPIEST of birthdays to you, lovely!

I am absolutely OBSESSED with the idea of baking a birthday cake together (or the icing one, if you’d rather) and “come on, blow out your candles!” - with TGM Ice - do with that what you will 💛

Ok. So. I'm combining a couple of Ice birthday cake asks because there's at least two I know of. I manipulated the ask just a little, Gogh darling, so I hope it's ok and that you love it. Because I really, really do. Mature Iceman just is a whole other thing for me, okay?

Triggers: mentions of cancer, age gap

All My Should'ves

Really, there’s very few instances in his life that Admiral Tom Kazansky could say he deeply, truly regrets. Not that he’s the only man that has any, certainly—it’s the crisis of life, regret. But nothing quite brings you nose-to-nose with those moments like the numbering of days, the perspective of the dying. And sure, he’s always known he could die, in the air. On the ocean. Blown into a thousand pieces even an ME could never put back together. But not like this.

And some of those regrets are smaller than others. Selling his ‘67 Grand Prix in high school, not plucking up the courage to ask the captain of the cheer squad to prom his senior year. Watching her go with his nemesis in high school, instead. Of course, all the shots he should’ve taken in the air. All the maneuvers that, in hindsight, were absolutely bonehead mistakes only rookies survived but he, by some miracle of heaven, had. That one speech he gave in 1994; that one Academy exam he should’ve studied for instead of fooling around with what’s-her-name-could-never-compare-to-you. That damn Oldsmobile in ‘87. Skipping out offering on that house you’d both loved, had watched another honeymoon couple actually buy. Never getting around to seeing God’s handiwork across the globe at paces slower than neck breaking from the seat of a cockpit.

What’s more haunting than all those choice moments, perhaps, are the everyday things. The things he should’ve said before that hardly-legible scrawl welded forever in his medical chart threw a wrench into everything and flat-spinned every heartbeat of life. Now it’s in every breath. All the white-hot, cracking whip of minutes. Every kiss, every glance, every dance of the day to day. It pursues like a hound of hell, like unshakable bogies and tone that stands up and screams.

He can’t think—rather, exist—without the whispers of cancer following him around like a shadow. It’s an adjective before his name. One burning question everyone only knows how to ask at parties, the only topic of conversation that swirls through the air. “How’re things going, Ice?”

And God, does it take over. Crucifies him with memories and all the “should haves.” Laying awake at night, restless to sleep but too exhausted to function, regret pounds the stakes that nail him to the cross of lifetimes. He hasn’t slept soundly in weeks. Everything he’s ever said means little to nothing at all, has no truth whatsoever. Words, before you really think about them, ring hollow. Are spineless and without depth. Black in white thrown against a canvas of opportunity, screaming for color. Dreams die, like pulseless corpses; extinguished Vegas neon in a night screaming for light—everything he’d ever lived for, extinct. Washed out beneath the harrowing shadow of “How long, Doc?”

Memories parasite his energy—there’s little to do than remember, after all. Hours brimming with nothing but the film reel of his life, passing in slow motion black-and-white. Damn the Navy, benching his ass for medical in his prime. When there’s so much to do, to give. Admiralty fully stalled while pursuing recovery, these four walls press in like Paul and Silas. Forever awaiting the day his prison Sesames open, chains shatter. He’ll rejoice like Scripture recalls of the two men, singing praise. Endlessly blessing the eternal. If only.

“Ice?” The clear strength of your voice echoes down the hallway leading into his study like an open sky. The soft pad of footsteps down the hall lifts his attention from the papers he’d like to mull over, the atmosphere shifting a little as your energy cracks into the room like a whip.

Eyes skating up the length of you hanging in the doorway like a bad habit, the corner of his mouth lifts into a pleased little smile. You’d left early this morning for the market, your soft kiss had stirred him from whatever little sleep he’d laid hold to in the wee hours. And Tom regrets not stealing a glance at you before you’d whisked out the door—-it’s sinful, really. Nobody should look so good in a maxi skirt and knotted t-shirt, barefoot sunburn and all.

Arms crossed over your chest, you angle your head to rest against the doorframe, smiling softly. Lift a foot to press against your leg, balancing candidly in his doorframe. Watching him, eyes skating over the splay of trinkets and documents on his desk that mean little to nothing at all when you’re here. And then that smile—it catches him off guard even after four years together. Thrums up his heartbeat a little more every time.

Blinking, his fingers brush closed one of the open books on his desk. You look just like you did the first time he’d slapped eyes on you at the Naval ball, four years ago. Effortless, ethereal. Happy and young. Minor differences, like hair color and length that only comes with time. Mostly, though, you’re not wearing that floor length, slit-to-the-devil dress, but—little else is different. Except that Tiffany ring on your left finger that makes him a type of wild that he’d only ever imagined was Maverick’s type, but finds him nonetheless.

“There you are—what are you doing in here?” Your brow pops up curiously for a second, but vanishes away as your brow creases into a confused little wrinkle. “I thought we were baking a cake?” There, the accusation isn’t serious, more curious than anything. Slipping deeper into the room to meet him around the desk, your arms slip home around his middle, “I grabbed eggs from the store, and some cream. And I figured I’d make your favorite for supper—since Ron’s coming over.”

Lifting up on toes, your lazily kiss to the corner of his mouth prompts a smile from him. Smoothing some of your hair behind your ear, he takes a breath of you—eucalyptus and mint, like always. Your hair’s still damp from a shower, and his fingers brush your earring, lightly. Memorizing details to remember for later. Arms snugging around his waist, your fingers card through his hair slowly.

“I pulled your mother’s recipe from the box from on top the fridge—you go get things started. I’m going to change and I’ll be right there.” Smiling coquettishly, you nibble the corner of your bottom lip. The way color dusts over your nose implies motive, but, he isn’t one to complain–you’re lovely when you’re flushed for him, “Think you can handle it, Admiral?”

Nodding, Ice rouses moisture to the front of his mouth. There’s a dozen things he could say, wants to say in a moment like this. But words—they don’t find him as easily. They evade, bouncing beyond the crosshairs of moments like an enemy at Mach 10. Oncology touted that speaking would become difficult as treatment progressed—that eventually, he may not speak at all. Which rusts more decaying regret. How often had he said things he didn’t mean? What weight did his words leave in the world? What he could’ve said, what should’ve slipped from between his lips haunt him like ghosts in the depthless void of time.

He tries not to dwell too long—it’ll eat him alive. Like wolves, all going for the throat. Literally, and figuratively. Radiation and chemotherapy are bastards, fatherless treatments that rip away too much. But what he despises most of all? They dominate moments. Words.

“You bet,” taking your chin between his index finger and thumb, Ice squeezes a little before smiling at you, slowly. “Hurry back,” and he leaves off the Can’t live without you that hangs in the back of his raw, burning throat. Immediately he regrets it when you spin away. Magicking out of the room in a spin of curl, skirt, and perfume that leaves the room asystole in your absence.

You return only when he’s separating eggs into the KitchenAide. A flick of his eyes from his task reveals that you have, indeed, changed clothes—more relaxed, as always. How he loves you. Hooded sweatshirt, satin sleep shorts and tube socks. Different earrings, and he’s fairly sure that’s a fresh coat of gloss that’s got your lips all pouty and plush. Sliding to a stop in front of the fridge, you snap it open with a flick of your wrist to begin plucking ingredients. With a quick prompt to Siri, The Doors blasts through the house and open windows as background noise.

And he could relish in the way you bleed through this kitchen like you were born for it, Tom for a moment thinking you could never belong anywhere but here. In his house. As his wife. Even if you’re twenty years his senior. That controversial young thing his best friends still tease him about. You’d captured him from the first time you’d smiled at him–he’d been reborn when you’d given him your name and agreed to see him again. Euphoria had laced his veins like inferno jet fuel when your “Yes!” had bounced through the front seat of his Chevelle when he’d offered you that Tiffany he loved seeing on your finger.

The beginnings of homestyle frosting are all but alive under your careful attention when you glance at him, “Whoa—hold it!” Eyes wide, you all but jump to stay his hand from depositing a measuring cup of cream into his flour mix, “That’s way too much, baby. Jeez louise.” Batting his hand away sends the cream tottling over the side of the utensil, to the floor.

Surprised and chuckling, he lifts his hands in surrender. “Did you read the recipe, Tom? Calls for a quarter cup of cream, not three.” Blinking, you rescue what remains of the cream from him and grab the carton from the counter, “Here, whisk that.” Gesturing to the fostering you’ve abandoned, you pass the whisk to him.

Brushing his shoulder on your way to the sink, you begin backmeasuring the cream back into the carton. Checking the measurements as you go, humming to Jim Morrison while your head bobs back and forth to the familiar tunes of Alabama Song. Once satisfied, you set aside the carton and return to the island, sliding to a stop in front of the KitchenAide. Dumping the cream, you roll-call the ingredients in the bowl before switching the mixer on, to low. And once the hum of stirring begins and drowns Jim Morrison, you begin collecting ingredients from the counter that are no longer necessary for the assignment. And from the corner of his eye, you look delectable—reaching to replace the flour to too-high cabinets above the stovetop.

Before he can notice the slight arch to your back, the way the front of your thighs brush the edge of the counter even more, he moves from the frosting like he’s firewalking. Crossing daylight between the two of you at breakneck speed, he snatches your wrist. Pulls you flush against his chest like it matters, because it does—and oh, does it.

Your little squeak, the shallow breath—it hits the low of his gut like a jackhammer. Heat afterburns through his blood, Ice can feel it dusting the bridge of his nose like a fresh snow. Not wasting a heartbeat, he tries bringing moisture to the front of his tongue but barely manages—can’t live without slanting his mouth against yours, the taste of you. And it’s a hard kiss, rough. The way you like it; that always produces a little sigh from you. He’s kissed you like this no less than what the stars could guess is a thousand times, but it feels new. Like it always does when it’s you.

But it’s moments like this that rapture away all the regrets, the negatives. The Paul and Silas prison that threatens to pull him farther into the void of uncertainties and unknowns. Home alone in a house that’s too big for the pair of you, but is so picturesque. It’s everything you’d ever wanted, a dream he’d ever only wanted to provide for a dream girl. White picket fence, the whole all-American nine yards. It’s only been four years calling this ZIP yours. But Ice has lived lightyears, here. Lifetimes that aren’t enough. Feel like microsecond sands that slip between the hourglass of fingers and a too-loose hold on dreams.

And it may be December outside his front door and between the chill that chases in and out of his ribs, but the crisp air creeping through open bay windows, rustling Better Homes and Gardens curtains is fresh and good. Chases away racing heat in his blood as his hands brush down your sides. Palms over your ass in those satin shorts make him feel like it’s 1986 all over again, like he isn’t a man twice your age and on the edge of glory. How you fall against his chest, fit against every curve of his frame is the stuff of Shakespearean sonnet and Hollywood–there’s no greater feeling. Eve to Adam. To think that at one time, he’d never thought of missing the rib.

Reeling when you raise on toes to skate your fingers through hair that’s far too silver for his own liking, his hands move to cradle either of your hips. Dipping you forward against his chest, you gasp a little when he steps back to counterbalance. Smile against his mouth, the raspy chuckle in the back of your throat spirals down his spine like a cannonball. And when your fingers brush along the stubble of his jaw, the peek of that platinum ring so at home on your finger could send him into space.

He could kiss you like this forever. And he would. If you didn’t tug at his bottom lip lightly, tipping your head back to look up at him through curled, fluffy lashes. Thumb fanning gently across the height of his cheek, your lips are full and kiss-plushed, cheeks red with either arousal, or the chill of the open window he isn’t sure. You encourage the play of his hands at your hip, the slow circle of his thumb along your hipbone before your eyes skate over his shoulder. To the KitchenAide–to the cake the two of you were supposed to be baking.

“Oh shit!” Like a cat pouncing from a happy tree, you dart around him like it’s a precision cut. Slapping at the mixer, you all but rip the bowl of mix from the paddle, swiping a finger along the side to test the batter. Ice can practically feel your heart thunking against your ribs from here, and you almost slack with relief as the bowl clatters lightly to the island surface. He’s trying not to chuckle as you swipe the recipe card closer to you, for next steps.

“Save it?” He teases, slipping up behind you. To his place. It’s always meant to be his, because you look too perfect standing there in a hooded sweatshirt and shorts to be anything else. He’d sooner lay in front of a train than think you belong anywhere–to anyone—else. Swiping his own finger through the batter, he tastes it. “Tastes pretty alright to me, sweetheart.” It’s rougher than he wants words to be. But, they are words—and calling you sweetheart has never tasted so fine.

With the same hand he brushes tendrils of curl off your shoulder, to nuzzle the soft of your neck. And that, too, tastes delicious—your skin is sweet. Saccharine, almost. Like you’re carved from pillars of innocent goodness designed for him and only him. Memories skip through the back of his mind—had he told you that? Any of it? Fighting to keep the bile of more should’ves from his conscious, he focuses a hot kiss against the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

Wriggling, “I think you’re deliberately trying to sabotage this cake, Thomas,” you mutter to the recipe card, “first the cream, then you distract me from award-winning batter here.” Angling to peek over your shoulder at him, he chuckles at the pop of your brow. “What would your mother say?” Brushing at his hands rucking the front of your sweatshirt up, he rests his chin on your shoulder.

And Tom really doesn’t want to think what the late Mrs. Admiral Kazansky would think, because she’d probably not understand you or the love he harbors between his ribs for you. Really the only thing he reckons his mother would appreciate is the fact you’re following her recipe for his birthday. It’s a week early—but Slider is heading East this weekend, and it’s the last chance either of you will have to see him before the new year. He’d all but insisted on doing dinner. You’d never been more excited to use that fancy, god-awful huge dining room.

He smiles against your skin, reveling in the light thrum of blood beneath your skin. He doesn’t have to answer. Prides that you know this. Gently rocking you between his arms, he slips his nose into your hair and takes a breath of curl that nearly curls his toes as your hands work to twist the batter with a spatula. His hand lifts to dust under your breast—you wriggle away, spluttering out a laugh. Always ticklish.

Working moisture into the pocket of his cheek, “What’re you giving me for my birthday, pretty?” husks into your skin more iniquitous than he intended. The upside traumatized vocal chords, really. Relishing in the bristle of your shoulders, he smiles deviously into your hair, “Feel like sharing early?”

He knows what you’ve squirreled away for his birthday—had spotted that Victoria’s Secret bag on the top shelf of your walk-in weeks ago, and he’d never really been a patient man. A breathless, “Hmmm….I think that can be arranged,” giggles from between your lips, and how you tip back a little against his chest tells Ice everything he thought already knew. Excitement pounces into his gut like a hungry thing, spinning blood through his ears until your hand finds his.

“I think that could be arranged, Admiral—but only if you close your eyes.”

And like adrenaline slipping into his chest at takeoff, you bleed out of his embrace. Tug him around the corner of the island, beyond the kitchen. The cake you’re supposed to be baking. And he’d been getting excited at your bedroom eyes, the sway of your hips leading him to oblivion. Until you breeze past your bedroom; the California King. That’s all but got him hard and excited at the thought of you splayed across down duvets and satin sheets.

Confusion all but hits him like a tonne of G-force when you shuffle him to a top in front of the door to your office, hands over his eyes. Icy cold against his skin, he all but fights away the selfish urge to swat at your hands. Your heart thrums excited against his shoulders from where you’re pressed up against his back, standing on toes to cover his eyes. The childish giggle playing on your lips pulls at the corner of his mouth, until you stop. Hands still over his still-very-much-closed eyes, you shuffle around him to gently stand on the toes of his slippers.

“You ready, Kazansky?” And his mouth opens to respond, but you’ve already whisked your hands away, your “Surprise!” pinballing through him with the force, and clarity, of lightning. Blinking in surprise as you backpedal farther into the room, you’re all but bouncing as your arms Vanna White around the object of your attention. Half of it’s perched on your desk, the other half on a series of boxes you’ve stacked to keep it level. It’s all but taken over your office—all seven and a half feet of it.

Blinking a few times, his brow almost liftoffs from his face before folding into a confused wrinkle. At the goofy grin on your face, the twinkling light in your eyes, he chuckles. A little breathlessly. At face value, he knows what this is. But how it’s here, and why, is the mystery. Heart hitting home against his ribcage, he gnaws at the inside of his cheek.

Eyes moving to take you in, you hurry around the desk and plant your palms on it. Leaning over the absolutely massive aircraft carrier, the all-white, bold 99 all but stands up and demands attention. Smoothing your hand over the desk, Tom doesn't miss the familiar logo-ing of GI Joe emblazoned right at home on the radio tower. It takes all of a few seconds to realize what it is, why it’s here. And it touchdowns, like a Tomcat hitting the tar.

Months ago he’d mentioned off-the-cuff that he’d been a GI Joe kid at one point in his life, and that he’d regretted selling them off in college. One of the very few toys he remembered cherishing the most as a child, he still remembers seeing the USS Flagg in a Sears catalog all those years ago. How he’d have given an arm to have something like that all to himself, and how priceless it would’ve been as an adult. Ironic, Admiralty considered—he had a real life carrier all his lonesome. Entrusted to him by the federal government, nameless and faceless American citizens. By no means a sentimental or materialist, Ice did have his moments—if he’d had children, this would be a piece of nostalgia he’d cherish sending them along with.

A shallow chuckle escapes him as he rubs his jaw, shaking his head at your starry eyed, child-at-Christmas look. Because for all the non-materialism he is, you’re the opposite. You love things. Chaotic happy little clutter that has stories and childhood memories to match. Minimalism is the farthest thing from your personality, and that’s maybe one of the things that he loves about you, minimalist aside. You’re easy to please, happy even with the littlest things. And for all awful he is attaching value to things and knowing what you’d love, you praise the small things. The effort, the thought. And that drives him wild.

“Pretty rad, huh?” Your voice takes up the room as he steps farther into it, eyes skating across the pristine plastic. This is one for the memories, the books—it’s perfect. And maybe something he doesn't need. The last thing he’d ever ask for. But that’s not the point—at all. Just the fact you’d listened, had entertained wistful childhood memories while laying in bed doing nothing, meant the world. You remembered. In a throwaway society that was selfish and liked to forget, you remembered.

“Rad?” His eyes cut from the deck of the plastic carrier to you, fingers brushing over the sticker lines easy. You gnawing giddily on your bottom lip is a delectable punch to the gut. And for all he loves this, he’d send it to the floor if it meant cornering you in that chair, tasting your mouth on his. “I can’t even believe you remembered we talked about this, baby.”

“I remember everything we talk about,” a wishful lie, because he knows better. But it’s beautiful all the same. Slinking around the corner of the desk purposefully, foot over foot, you sidle up beside him and rest a hand on his chest. “How couldn’t I? You said this was something you’d want to pass onto babies, Ice—that’s, well, that’s kinda a big deal.”

And suddenly it’s there—the conversation the two of you have perpetually been circling since getting married. A family, babies. He wanted them, you were hesitant. Not for the reasons everyone would believe—the age difference mattered little in the grand scheme. But cancer, even on the other side of it. Punched a hole in the hull of what seemed to be watertight intentions, even after a year.

And Ice understood—the last thing he’d ever want for you is to raise children alone. But it was the gamble, the gauntlet. Of life, even without terminal illness on the radar. The thought of children, of little feet running around this house, in this season of life felt overwhelming. Fanciful. Storybook, even. Leaves him nearly breathless, thinking about you pregnant and maternal. He couldn’t have ever chosen a more perfect person to have his children, to raise them.

When your arms slide home around his waist, he’s pulled from the thought of just how perfect that extra bedroom would be for a nursery. Leaning forward to join the pair of you at the middle, he takes your face in his hands and smiles at the way your eyes light up into his. Everything about you is so right, so pure. Even when he loved to ruin you, you shone like the sun. Simmered like refined, hot silver waiting to meld into a perfect he could only ever dream of. Thumb fanning over the apple of your cheek, he lowers to wisp a light kiss to the end of your nose, which makes you sigh.

“It’s perfect,” he breathes, letting the thought settle in his chest. And he doesn’t exactly mean the plastic carrier, though that is a level of perfection he hadn’t anticipated. “You’re perfect. I don’t deserve you,” wrapping one of the sweatshirt’s ties around his finger, he curls his finger for you to come closer, if possible.

“You really don’t,” you chuckle, mouth brushing his as your hand smooths down the front of his shirt. “But I don’t deserve you either, Admiral. I guess that’s why we’re meant for each other, huh?” Daylight ceases to exist between the two of you as you meld against him, perfect and whole and everything he’d ever want you to be. And your nails tugging at his scalp lightly as he kisses you feels so exquisite that forgets everything but the way his gut jumps against his breastbone.

Humming in agreement, he shivers when your fingers dust over the button of his jeans. Fingers curling into the denim, you shuffle him forward, back in the direction of the door. Siren eyes and kiss-fat lips, he’d follow you anywhere. But thank God for familiar patterns, because within seconds you’ve bled through the door of the master suite, slipping from his reach easily. Like it’s planned, the easiest thing in the world.

He can’t breathe when you flop onto the bed, all starry-eyed and tipped ears. “Now. About your other birthday present, love. Closet, top shelf—”

And there’s truly very little to regret, after all.

And this is the toy in question! Yes. It actually existed, in a 1987 Sears catalogue. Oh what I would've given....

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powerful-niya · 7 months

Text

— (вírthdαч kíssєs.)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙱𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚘! (𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹)

Link to Oneshot below ↴

•Wattpad• •AO3•

Pairing˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Naruhina

Synopsis˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡Hinata Hyuga takes it upon herself to create an unforgettable birthday celebration for her beloved boyfriend, Naruto Uzumaki. Filled with heartfelt gestures, creative surprises, and passionate moments, Hinata showers Naruto with love and attention, aiming to make it the most extraordinary birthday he's ever experienced.

Content Tags˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Adoration • After Party • Alcohol Beverages • Birthday Celebration • Birthday Edition 2023 • Birthday Sex • Boyfriend Appreciation • Body Worship • Candlelit • Cock Worship • Couple Goals • Creampie • Dirty Talk • Drunk Sex • Erotic • Female Dominance • Food Play • Foreplay • Freaky • Frottage • Hickeys • Kinky • Kisses • Lingerie • Love • Love Bites • Marathon Sex • Modern AU • Multiple Orgasms • Naruto's Birthday • NSFW • October 10th • Pampering • Passionate Sex • Praise Kink • Pussy Worship • Riding • Romantic • Roses • Spoiling • Striptease • Unprotected Sex • Vaginal Sex • Whipped Cream • Wholesome •

Overall Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚11.6k.

Tumblr Post: Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚6.2k.

Preview ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The front door, aged and weathered from years of use, creaked open with a reluctant sigh, revealing the dimly lit foyer beyond. A pale light from the street lamps outside spilled into the hallway of the one story home, casting elongated shadows on the wooden floors.

As the door swung wide, the silhouette of two figures staggered into view, their unsteady steps serving proof of their intoxicated state. They leaned on each other for support, their laughter bubbling up in fits and starts, carried by the night air.

Naruto, with his tousled blonde hair and lopsided grin, stumbled indoors to escape the brisk autumn breeze, donning a rumpled suit that had clearly seen better days. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and he swayed with a carefree abandon, his boisterous laughter marking a lively climax to the night's celebrations.

Hinata, his lover, stood next to him, her dress somewhat awry. She possessed a contagious smile that shone even in the subdued light. Her lavender eyes, hooded as they were, danced with mirth as she clung to her companion, their shared revelry a testament to their camaraderie.

Together, they stumbled deeper into the foyer of their home. Hinata glanced back, doing her best to close the front door. Her movements were a bit unsteady, and she fumbled with the door and its knob for a moment before managing to shut and lock it with a shaky hand.

Turning back to her boyfriend, she made sure to support his wobbly frame once more, slipping his arm across her neck so she could hold him up.

The echoes of their laughter mingled with the hushed whispers of the night, leaving behind a trail of vivacious energy that lingered in the air. Their presence, though unsteady, brought a sense of vibrant life to the otherwise quiet house.

The scent of sake wafted through the air from their beings, a delicate yet distinct fragrance that carried the warmth of the memories they had made only moments before. It started as a subtle undertone, barely perceptible, but gradually grew stronger, weaving its way through the entirety of their home.

As Naruto and Hinata moved further into the space, the aroma enveloped them, its notes of fermenting rice mingling with the gentle embrace of the wood furnishings in their home. It was a scent that spoke of tradition and conviviality, of the evening spent in the company of friends and loved ones.

The sake's presence in the air seemed to awaken the very walls of the home, imbuing them with a sense of history and shared experiences. It whispered of celebrations and laughter, of toasts exchanged in both joy and sorrow.

The lovers, caught in an olfactory embrace, carried with them the essence of the sake, becoming carriers of the lively moment of the night itself, as though replaying a forever lasting memory.

Naruto emitted a groan as he jolted forward, evidence of his clumsy state when intoxicated. He cursed his lack of alcohol tolerance, finding it both humiliating and frustrating that his legs often betrayed him. There were moments when his limbs would outright abandon him, necessitating the assistance of his equally intoxicated girlfriend to keep him upright.

Hinata would laugh, everytime he would stumble, merely trying her best to keep him standing with the help of her petite arms.

"I gotcha, Na-Na-Na-hic!" Her words were cut off by a loud hiccup which sprang from her throat and out of her mouth, seemingly out of nowhere, startling them both.

Naruto, his cerulean eyes, half-lidded and gleaming, whipped his gaze towards his midnight blue-haired girlfriend in an instant, his expression marked by sheer surprise.

Hinata mirrored his astonishment.

However, a single exchange of glances between them was all it took for both of them to break into uncontrollable laughter.

Naruto rocked back and forth in his spot, one arm draped over his girlfriend's neck, who tried her best to keep him upright, even in her intoxicated state.

"Damn, damn, damn." Naruto cursed between the fits of his laughter, "what a night!"

Overwhelmed with joy, Naruto couldn't suppress the urge to vocalize how incredible his night had been. He practically shouted his appreciation to the ceilings of the home he and Hinata shared.

The alcohol coursing through his system might have some contribution to his boisterous and chatty behavior, but he didn't care. He truly needed to share his feelings and reminisce about the extraordinary events of this memorable night.

The very night Hinata and Naruto experienced was truly unforgettable, especially for Naruto, as it was anything but ordinary, firmly etching itself into his memory. It was a special, special night.

It was his birthday, after all. His 23rd birthday, to be exact.

The recollections of his festive night flooded back like a vibrant painting, occasionally veiled in a haze from the alcohol, yet with focused effort, Naruto managed to piece together most of the night's details in his mind with precision.

Yes, it was the wondrous night of Naruto's birthday, a night that would forever hold a special place in his heart. The memories of the night played like a reel in his mind.

Every piece of it.

His girlfriend, the mastermind behind it all, stood at the center of the festivities, as a beacon of love and joy.

Upon his return from work, she had initially left him a letter instructing him to don his finest attire and meet her at Hara No Tume, a lively bar located in downtown Tokyo.

Naturally, he followed her instructions, fetching himself the most exquisite tuxedo available in his wardrobe, and then navigating the streets of Tokyo as fast as his car could take him. The city's vibrant neon lights and energetic atmosphere certainly set an ideal stage for his impending celebration.

He could clearly recall how his anticipation grew during that time, his face permanently grazed with a jolly grin. Even his stomach was churning, queasy with nervous excitement throughout the entire drive.

Naruto was aware that his girlfriend had a surprise in store for him, given that it was his birthday, (of course). However, like every year, he found himself unable to figure out any of her elaborate plans. Hinata hid them so well.

With his excitement through the roof, he finally arrived at the bar and when he did, he remembered that he instantly recognized his girlfriend the moment he stepped in.

At the entrance, Hinata stood with her flowing midnight blue hair trailing behind her, adorned in a shimmering dress, and a gentle smile gracing her face as she turned to greet him.

Her eyes sparkled with the secret she had kept so well, a surprise that had unfolded like a beautifully orchestrated symphony.

At that moment, Naruto recalled being greeted by a chorus of voices, all shouting "surprise" in unison, their distinct tones blending into a cacophonous yet comforting familiarity.

Naruto was surprised, and is still surprised by the unexpected presence of his high school friends, whom he hadn't crossed paths with in years, joining him at the bar alongside his girlfriend.

All of his comrades were there.

Sasuke, Sakura, Sai, Neji, Ino, Kiba, Lee, Shino, Shikamaru, Temari, Choji, and Karui had all gathered to join in to celebrate his birthday.

Even his three sensei's from Konoha High—Jiraiya, Kakashi, and Iruka—made an appearance, their faces adorned with cheerful smiles, encompassing the essence of both gifts, cards, and nostalgic memories.

But their presence at the bar to celebrate his 23rd birthday was more impactful to Naruto then he initially thought.

It truly provided him with an eye-opening revelation.

His sensei's presence there served as an indicator that Naruto had officially grown out of his adolescence. He was no longer the kid who stirred up trouble in his sensei's classrooms; contrary, he had grown older and more mature. He's grown into a man.

The realization of it all was pivotal, and it made his night all the more impactful.

Naruto could still hear his comrades now, all animated and full of cheer, their laughter filling the entirety of Hara No Tume, painting a picture of camaraderie and carefree moments. Naruto could vividly recall the warmth of their embraces, the heartfelt wishes they gave, all the thoughtful gifts they shared, and the sparkle in his loved ones' eyes.

Naruto felt a swell of warmth in his chest as he continued to recall such a memory and all of its entirety. He felt a profound gratitude for the love and thoughtfulness that had gone into his very own birthday night. The scenes of laughter, shared stories of reminiscence, and heartfelt toasts painted a tapestry of cherished moments, forever imprinted on his heart.

The fond memories of the playful brawls and daring challenges he shared with the guys resounded like a mantra in his mind, never failing to bring a smile to his face.

They may all have acted foolishly, but with finally being in one another's company again, it hardly mattered.

Naruto vividly recalled the time Lee dared Shikamaru to yank his girlfriend's hair, only to be slapped across the face mid action.

He remembered the dare that Sasuke gave Neji, that is to neck his drink, but respectfully he declined. But it was only after, when Kiba had the bright idea to dare him instead to chug, but not his own beverage but to down an entire bottle of sake. Kiba, as always, is so over the top.

But, how could Naruto possibly refuse that?

Naruto wasn't a pussy like Neji was, and besides, it's his fucking birthday. So, hell yeah.

Naruto's actions, however, certainly left his girlfriend feeling extremely embarrassed as she watched him climb onto the bar table and down the entire bottle of sake he'd been handed. To make matters worse, every customer in the bar joined in with his dare with raucous cheers, turning the entire scene into a spirited celebration. It felt like a fiesta, a wild and carefree sake-drinking party where they could all momentarily shed the weight of the world, revel in laughter, and rediscover the joy of their youth.

For a while, they were teenagers again, embracing the liberating feeling of being free from life's stresses, able to laugh and smile without reservation.

The night certainly exceeded all of Naruto's expectations. He hadn't experienced a night like that in so long. The responsibilities of adult life have surely exacted their toll, and moments of unbridled celebration had become rare for Naruto.

But his birthday night, though, was a beacon of light through it all. He remembered how every laugh had felt like a gift, every shared story a treasure, and every wish a blessing. It was a night that reminded him of the beauty in simple pleasures and the power of genuine connections.

It all served as a reminder that life's true richness lay in moments like those, where time seemed to stand still, and the world was painted in hues of love and celebration.

His birthday was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Once more, it was his beloved who managed to make him feel like the happiest man alive, once again on his birthday..

She always does, regardless of the year, or his age.

Hinata undeniably instilled in him a deep appreciation for both the essence of life and the privilege of having her in his.

A warm smile graced his lips, and at last, Naruto tore himself from his reverie to meet his girlfriend's gaze. She looked up at him with a radiant smile, content to watch him as he drifted through his musings.

She smiled warmly, "Did you en-enjoy tonight, my love?" Hinata's voice, though delicate in its essence, bore the subtle rasp of intoxication, like a gentle stream flowing over smooth stones, its surface occasionally rippling with a soft, throaty cadence.

Naruto shuddered, a tingling sensation coursing down his spine, causing his unsteady form to waver even more. He turned around fully to meet Hinata's gaze, and he observed as she mirrored his actions, bringing them face to face.

With gentle fingertips, Hinata caressed the fabric of his crumpled tuxedo, her head tilted due to their significant height difference.

But her eyes were fixed upon her boyfriend, gazing up at him with twinkling lavender orbs. She witnessed his drunken but delighted grin, characterized by half-closed eyes and raised, whiskered cheeks.

"Yes, H-Hinata-chan." He huskily whispered before moving his arms forward to wrap them around her waist. He held her close, placing his forehead against hers, wanting to feel her, all of her. His spiky blonde hair slipped forth and caressed her cheeks, kissing her pale skin.

Naruto inhaled deeply as Hinata's petite body brushed up against his own, the tenderness of her feminine body bringing his masculine one to its knees.

"Hinata-chan," He stammered, "I cannot thank you enough for the joy you've brought me tonight. Everything you arranged was exactly what I'd always dreamed of, and I-I-I don't know how I could ever repay you enough." He whispered, his voice slurring at times, but Hinata understood.

Emotions seemed to steadily grow stronger within him, engulfing him whole, and before long, he began to sway from side to side, partaking in a tipsy dance of sorts, a clear sign that he had lost control of his body.

Hinata giggled in response, her own body swaying in harmony with his.

"Yes baby, this was the best damn night of my entire life. Mmm." Naruto leaned in, pressing a tender kiss onto her forehead, the very person who had bestowed upon him so much happiness.

"And it's all thanks to you, my love."

"Mmm, oh N-Naruto-kun."

Touched to the core, Hinata let out a soft whimper, moved by her boyfriend's evident satisfaction and appreciation to everything she had organized for his birthday.

She gently rubbed along his torso, with up and down strokes. She raced her soft hands up his neck and wrapped them around the broadness of it.

She stared deep within his eyes, and practically melted in the world of warmth that lay within them. The warmth emanating from his blue eyes mirrored the comforting radiance of a crackling fireplace on a brisk, golden afternoon. It was a tender embrace, a comforting glow that invited her in.

Within Naruto's gaze, Hinata found a haven of boundless love and gratitude, where each glance felt like a gentle caress, enveloping her in a profound sense of belonging and affection.

Naruto bestowed upon her the gaze she had always yearned for, fulfilling the longing within her to be looked at just as he was looking at her now.

It made her heart flutter with joy. Every chamber within her pulsed with an exuberant energy, sending waves of warmth and contentment coursing through her veins. Her heart was in full bloom, a vibrant melody of happiness that resonated within, infusing every fiber of her being.

Her smile was broad, so much so that the edges of her lips ached.

With a firm grip on the collar of her boyfriend's tuxedo, she gave it a tender pull, "Oh, Naruto-kun," She murmured against his sake-tinged breath, "I'm incredibly delighted that you had a wonderful time tonight. Your happiness means the world to me, and it's all I strive for." She whispered warmly, her breath carrying the scent of sake, just like his.

Her legs wobbled a bit, her heels scraping the floor underneath her but broad arms held her tight and upright, cradled in an embrace of warmth.

Hinata bit her lip yet again, "D-Demo…" She trailed her response, waking Naruto out of his dreamy reverie. His eyes drifted shut several times as he listened to the lullaby that was his girlfriend's voice. But he was shaken awake by her previous remark.

"Demo?" Naruto repeated while continuing his rocking. He cupped her petite waist gently, rushing his hands in circular motions to caress her skin underneath her lustrous dress. At times, he even rushed his hands across the curve of her luscious ass, squeezing the flesh within his fingers through her dress.

Hinata moaned in delight.

Naruto's personal touches, whether deliberate or not, were undeniably on the mark for what Hinata's thoughts were wandering to. Naruto's cupping motions, the sexual intimacy of it, suggested her own naughty plans for tonight.

The spiky-haired blonde raised an eyebrow as he witnessed the mischief that suddenly appeared in the glossy lavender eyes of his lover. She began to tiptoe her fingers up his chest and then his neck.

"This night, Naruto-kun, is far from over. I have one more surprise." She pulled up one finger by his neck, "One more." She repeated in a whisper.

Naruto's eyes widened, "Another surprise?" The blonde was starstruck. Such unexpected news made his heart skip a beat; he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Hinata has surely outdone herself this year.

The blonde's mouth gaped like an idiot, his blue eyes fixated and widened down at his midnight blue-haired lover. He shook his head, the dewy strands of his blonde hair tousling about in response, "Hinata-chan, come on baby. That's too much. You really didn't have to-"

"Shh." Hinata silenced him by pressing a finger against his lips, exerting gentle pressure to keep him quiet. Naruto obeyed, but he couldn't suppress the smirk that played on his lips.

In a playful gesture, he pressed a kiss to her finger, eliciting a giggle from Hinata.

She shook her head, "It brings me no burden, Naruto-kun, to make each of your birthdays better than the last, to go over and beyond each and every time." Hinata smiled, "I love you. I cherish you deeply, and I wish to demonstrate my love and appreciation in any way I can. So now…"

Hinata pulled her finger away from Naruto's lips to instead use her hands to grip his own hands. She began to gently guide him towards their bedroom.

"Your first surprise was only the beginning. What I have planned for you next, is waiting in the bedroom."

"The bedroom, huh?" Naruto licked his lips, liking the sound of that. After a day filled with relentless work, toppled with a rowdy afternoon at the bar, he was more than prepared to lie down and be pampered to the fullest.

Therefore, Naruto happily trailed after Hinata, summoning his strength to maneuver his sluggish legs across the wooden floor.

"Mmm, you naughty girl." He breathed, "Don't tell me-"

"Shh. Just follow, Naruto-kun." Hinata enthusiastically cheered, her smile radiant.

Naruto chuckled, utterly captivated by his girlfriend's adorableness. How could he ever resist her? After all she's done for him, he was more than willing to do anything she asked.

Anything.

So, he followed her.

Every step of the way, his gaze remained fixed on her. She was the sun to his world, and he revolved around her, craving for her light and love.

If Hinata was determined to make his already perfect night even more extraordinary and secure its place as one of his best birthdays ever, he wouldn't object.

Who in their right mind would?

Naruto was ready. He was ready to see what was to come.

With each step, his heart raced, the anticipation within him reaching its peak. He couldn't help but speculate about what might lie behind their bedroom door, yet he found himself stumped by the multitude of possibilities. His intoxicated mind couldn't quite grasp it all.

His thoughts wandered freely, and his excitement bubbled over. In Hinata's hold, he couldn't resist the urge to dance around, eliciting giggles from her.

"Oh Naruto-kun, be patient, my darling. W-We're almost there." With a tipsy giggle, Hinata declared, thoroughly amused by Naruto's childlike dance, as he hopped around beside her, in her grasp like a hyperactive child.

To her, Naruto was utterly adorable, and observing his limitless enthusiasm in response to her surprise filled her with even more delight.

Though the journey to their bedroom was relatively short, it truly felt like an eternity to Naruto. However, his excitement reached its peak when he was finally guided to their closed bedroom door, adorned with numerous pictures of them both, including wall art displaying their names on the front.

Hinata turned to Naruto with a giddy smile, one displaying exuberant happiness. She was just as happy as he was, maybe even more.

She danced in her spot, gripping his hand for dear life, "Okay, Naruto-kun, your surprise is just in here." She nodded her head toward their closed bedroom door.

She turned back to him, her midnight blue hair flowing with each of her movements, clinging to her dewy, flushed skin.

"Are you ready?"

"Am I ready?" Naruto repeated with a chuckle. He raised the hand that held his girlfriend's, bringing it to his lips. With his heated gaze still fixed on her, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

They both emitted a soft moan as they made contact, warm lips meeting pale skin.

"Mmm, I'm more than ready. Show me this magnificent surprise of yours." Naruto kissed Hinata's knuckles again, squinting his blue eyes, "Go on, amaze me, Hinata-chan."

Only after that did Hinata feel prepared to unveil Naruto's ultimate birthday surprise, a gift that had taken her days to plan and hours to execute.

With a smile, she gently moved her hand from Naruto's hold to guide it toward the doorknob. She gripped it tight, "Well then, here it is, my love," She announced.

"your surprise."

It was only after that moment that she confidently turned the knob, swinging the door open wide to finally unveil Naruto's surprise in all of its glory.

However, the sight that lay beyond their bedroom door was beyond description. It stole away Naruto's breath and redefined the word "extraordinary.'

It was unlike anything he had ever witnessed before.

Naruto's breath caught in his throat, "Oh my kami." He whispered in astonishment, once more losing control of his body. Suddenly, he found himself taking a step forward.

Upon entering the bedroom, a gasp caught in his throat. He could hardly believe his eyes.

The room, once so familiar and ordinary, had undergone a complete transformation. It now exuded an aura of love and intimacy, shifted into a sanctuary of affection. The room, and its condition now merely served as a magnified glimpse into the depths of Hinata's heart, like peering into an ocean of emotions.

A soft, golden light enveloped him, casting a warm and inviting glow throughout the space.

Naruto's heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight before him.

Countless candles adorned every available surface, their flickering flames creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow throughout the entirety of the room. The air was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla, adding to the enchantment and even tranquility of the room.

The bed, adorned with a sea of crimson rose petals, looked like something out of a dream. The roses were arranged with such precision that they formed a heart shape on the bed, gracefully crossing the white sheets and pillows, creating a sight that begged for a moment of admiration.

Naruto couldn't take his eyes off of the bed.

But ultimately, he managed to get his eyes to shift. To his left.

The nightstand positioned directly beside the bed now boasted a bottle of whipped cream, a plate of succulent strawberries, a festive birthday hat, and an ice bucket containing chilled champagne. Each element seemed carefully chosen, meticulously placed and planned creating a tableau of sensuality and indulgence.

Naruto felt a surge of warmth and gratitude welling up inside him.

It was as if their room had become a canvas, painted with the strokes of love and affection. He couldn't help but be moved by the effort and thoughtfulness that had gone into creating such an enchanting space. The room's transformation truly spoke volumes about the depth of the connection his lover had with him, leaving the blonde male both touched and elated.

It was a moment he knew he would treasure forever.

Hinata observed the scene in all of its entirety from afar, savoring the moment her boyfriend discovered the love she had poured into creating the romantic theme to their room.

With a smile filled with anticipation and affection, she stood by the door. Her gaze was fixed on Naruto's form, capturing both his back and the side profile of his face. She caught a glimpse of the wide, radiant smile gracing his tanned features, the candlelights dancing around him, illuminating him completely.

Hinata observed him as Naruto meticulously took in every detail of the room, his wide grin remaining ever-present. His head swiveled in excitement, akin to a child exploring a candy store.

Naruto's cerulean eyes absorbed every detail—the roses, the candles, the carefully arranged decorations—and he allowed the sentiment to wash over him, savoring the depth of Hinata's consideration.

Feelings welled up inside him, a torrent of emotions colliding and resonating so profoundly that he couldn't hold back a sob.

"Oh H-Hinata-chan. Th-This is…" His breath grew shaky. He was goddamn speechless, mouth gaped, eyes wide, and heart hammering against his chest.

His movement was wobbly, but he used all the strength he could muster to finally turn around to face his girlfriend, to reveal the endless amounts of gratitude that adorned his face.

"Fuck! This is amazing, holy shit, Hinata-chan!" Naruto exclaimed in awe, gripping the blonde strands of his hair tightly.

He shook his head in disbelief, once again absorbing his surroundings as if they might fade away, as if he might awaken and find it all to be a dream. Yet, everything remained as real as ever.

Hinata remained.

He turned to her fully, tears of joy bundling up in his certulan eyes, "Oh, Hinata-chan, you did all of this…for me?" He whispered through shaky breaths.

He observed his beautiful girlfriend nod eagerly. She pushed herself away from the entrance and took a few steps inside, using a gentle hand to close the door behind her.

"Yes, Naruto-kun, I did all of this for you." She announced with joy evident in her sluggish voice, "D-Do you l-like it?"

"Like it?" Naruto exclaimed, whipping his head back to connect eyes with his love. He gave her a large grin before making his way towards her.

"I fucking love it, Hinata-chan!" Naruto cheered before making his way across the room to her. He approached her, unhesitatingly cupping her cheek with one hand, while the other wrapped around her waist, drawing her close..

He growled, "Mmm, come here, baby." He softly murmured before engaging in a passionate kiss that seemed to nearly sweep her off her feet, undoubtedly leaving her breathless.

Their lips connected in a fervent, tender embrace, a dance of passion and appreciation. Naruto's arms enveloped Hinata, drawing her close, their bodies pressed together in a seamless connection.

Hinata wholeheartedly surrendered to the kiss, expressing her boundless love and devotion through it. She lifted her arms to cradle her blonde lover's neck, holding him close as he secured her waist.

In that moment, time seemed to slow down for them both, allowing them to savor every electrifying second. Hinata's hands raised forward, her fingers beginning to trace a gentle path along Naruto's sculpted jaw, sending shivers of delight down his spine.

Her touch was both tender and delicate, a confirmation to the depth of her feelings.

Their breath mingled, warm and inviting, as they lost themselves in each other. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their cocoon of affection. It was a kiss that resonated with unspoken emotions, an indication to their deep love and devotion, leaving them both breathless and hungry for more.

As time passed, their kiss evolved, transitioning from passionate to heated. Tongues danced in a fervent rhythm, saliva mingled in a crazed fit, and their heads moved in rapid synchrony.

Fingers grew needy, scratching and pinching the other one's clothing in a desirable fit to get them off, to indulge in what they've been wanting to do ever since they stepped back into their home, away from the prying eyes of the public.

Their groans and moans faded as one, as they kissed one another sloppily, bringing a warmth that came unmatched to nestle within the other's chests, a warmth that moved to envelop every part of them.

"Hinata-chan." Naruto moaned his girlfriend's name, breathlessly against her plump lips.

"N-Naruto-kun." She moaned his name back, her lavender eyes hooded.

With a subtle push, Hinata prompted Naruto to take several steps back, her fingers deftly maneuvering to undo the buttons and fastenings of his tuxedo. Naruto readily lent a hand, ensuring the process was both swift and efficient.

In a rush of urgency, their fingers fumbled with buttons, their movements quick and determined. Fabric rustled as Naruto shedded his tie, his jacket, undershirt, and his trouser's with the assistance of his lover, flinging them all aside without a second thought. His tanned physique, a work of art, lay bare for his lover to admire in the soft, dimly lit room. Every move and sensation highlighted the contours of his sculpted muscles which flexed in relation.

Now, Naruto was down to nothing but his boxers. His discarded clothes formed a haphazard pile on the floor, a testament to the urgency that fueled their actions. The room echoed with the sound of fabric meeting carpet, punctuated by the occasional gasp of breath.

Another gasp sprung out of Naruto's mouth as he was given yet another push, but this one was a bit stronger than the one before and he found himself falling backwards.

With a sudden and unexpected stumble, he found himself tumbling, not on the floor, but on their bed, all at once bringing him back to the dream of his reality.

The plushness of the bed welcomed him, yielding beneath his weight in a luxurious embrace. His body sank into the softness, cradling him in a cocoon of comfort. It was a surprise, an unplanned moment of surrender to the inviting embrace of the bed.

He let out a relieved exhale as he observed his girlfriend gracefully positioning herself on top of him, signaling her intentions for the night.

It was going to be another of those nights again.

Another night where Hinata would take control in the bedroom and guide them both into a world of ecstasy. Naruto anticipated the sensation, anticipating Hinata's preparations, knowing in his bones that he'd remember this night fondly.

Hinata was prepared to give him a night of unparalleled ecstasy, and he was eagerly yearning for it.

Hinata gracefully settled onto his lap, her feet adorned in heels resting on either side of his waist, cushioned by the soft bed sheets.

Crimson rose petals, once strewn across the bed, now danced along their skin, caressing Naruto's tanned, well-defined chest and tracing the contours of Hinata's supple thighs.

Hinata's breath hitched in a soft moan as she gently rested a hand on Naruto's chest, urging him to stay in his relaxed state, stretched out across the center of the bed.

"Mmm, just relax, my love." She murmured tenderly against his eager lips, seeking another passionate kiss. Naruto responded with a blissful moan, meeting her with equal fervor.

Hinata's own moan intertwined with his as she hovered above him, her midnight blue tresses cascading over her fair shoulders, draping across his chest in a tantalizing caress.

Breaking the kiss, Hinata bestowed upon Naruto a smile that stole his breath away. His mouth fell open in awe as he beheld the midnight blue-haired angel above him, bathed in the soft glow of candlelights, which seemed to illuminate her.

Hinata looked perfect. So very perfect.

Hinata appeared absolutely flawless, a vision of perfection.

Naruto was beyond astounded. The fact that he could claim someone as extraordinary as Hinata as his partner, and even know her, be loved by her, and have her in his life, was truly beyond belief.

He was in awe. In total awe.

Hinata smiled down at him, her hands tenderly caressing his well-toned body, "Relax, and allow me this moment to appreciate every inch of you," She whispered, her soothing words merely turning Naruto's muscles into mush.

A soft giggle escaped her lips as she noticed the intensity in his gaze, his hooded blue eyes rooted on her and only her.

She leaned back down, pressing a gentle kiss to his right earlobe before speaking softly within it.

"I yearn to kiss every part of you, Naruto-kun. I yearn to express the depth of my love, to adore every facet of you, honor the years you've lived in this world, and to cherish the time we spent together."

Hinata's soft breath grazed his earlobe, a gentle whisper of warmth that sent tingles down his spine. The sensation was both tender and exhilarating, a delicate touch that quickened his heartbeat.

Her proposition was endearing to the tipsy blonde, igniting a response that pulsed through every nerve in his body. Even his excited friend between his legs perked up, eager to partake in Hinata's plans for the night.

Naruto extended his arms, gently caressing Hinata's thighs, relishing the sensation of her smooth, velvety skin beneath his calloused hands.

"Mmm, oh baby, that sounds absolutely delightful." Naruto nodded, "Yes, kiss my body, caress me, fuck me." He murmured, nestling his head into the bed, "Yes, make my night. Spoil me, sweetheart."

Hinata giggled, drawing back just enough to playfully tap his nose, "Mmm, oh my love, you've just read my mind."

Hinata moved her finger down to instead give his chest a tap, "But first…"

She trailed off, then slid her hands to the hem of her shimmering black dress, gripping the fabric's edges. She remained in eye contact with him, to keep him the center of her attention, to give him all of her.

Naruto watched with bated breath, his eyes fixed on his girlfriend as she folded her arms, seized her dress, and tossed the glistening material over her head, revealing what lay beneath.

Once more, he was taken aback by Hinata's intricate efforts to surprise him, completely catching him off guard.

There, right on top of him, presented a woman of breathtaking beauty, her curves adorned in lingerie. Red lingerie.

"Holy mother of kami." Naruto breathed, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him.

The crimson lace clung to her porcelain skin, a vivid contrast that accentuated every curve and contour she possessed. The delicate fabric danced gracefully against her, a fiery frame against the canvas of her alabaster complexion. It was a tantalizing sight, the scarlet hue radiating confidence and allure.

It was the sexiest sight he's ever seen, the clash of red, bringing rise to her silky midnight blue hair, and lavender eyes, creating a sight that he knew would show up again in his wet dreams of her.

Naruto couldn't even keep his damn mouth closed, he was so flabbergasted.

Hinata looked so beautiful.

The vibrant red lace of her lingerie mirrored the rich hue of the roses adorning the bed. Like the blossoms, the fabric exuded a passionate energy, its intricate patterns weaving a tapestry of desire. The lingerie seemed to echo the very essence of the roses, each petal and lace detail telling a story of passion and longing. Together, they created a sensuous symphony, painting the room with an intoxicating blend of scarlet shades.

And it didn't help that Hinata was currently giving him a seductive squint, a sexy look that accentuated her plump lips, her porcelain skin, and the beauty of her appearance.

She grinded her hips along the bulge in Naruto's boxers, and giggled as she felt his cock brush against the slit of her red panties, an indication that he took great pleasure at what he saw.

She gasped, "Oh, you're such a naughty boy, Naruto-kun." Hinata teased, which only caused his dick to react once more, twitching against her. She moaned in response, placing her hands down to brace herself on his chest.

She shimmed her body yet again, rolling her pelvis in a circular motion along his crotch.

Naruto whipped his head back in delight, crashing against the bed.

"Fuck." He breathed.

Hinata moaned, biting her bottom lip, "Oh? I see that you have taken a great liking to my lingerie, Naruto-kun. I bought it specifically for you for your special night."

Naruto's tongue swept across his lips as he brought his hands down to trace the contours of his lover's form, his hands skimming over the vibrant red fabric that embraced her exquisite figure.

He cursed, "Hell yeah, I love it, baby. Fuck," Naruto swore once more.

"you're just full of surprises."

Naruto chuckled, before bringing his hands down the curve of her backside to cup her ass. He gave it a smack, propelling her forward, "I thought you were done with the surprises, Hinata-chan. Ya know, there's only so many surprises I can take, baby."

Hinata giggled at Naruto's comical response before shrugging her shoulders, "Oh, did I say that? Gomen." The midnight blue-haired woman leaned in to kiss Naruto's lips once more, playfully tugging at them with her teeth.

"I lied." She whispered, "Get ready for a night full of surprises, my love. I'm determined to make this birthday your best one yet."

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