You’re lounging on the couch in your apartment, the soft hum of the city just beyond the window. Callum, your massive, bad-boy of a boyfriend, is leaning back beside you, his broad shoulders taking up most of the space. His black t-shirt clings to his chest, stretched tight over the muscles that flex with every subtle movement. Tattoos cover his forearms, bold and dark—reminders of the rough, untamed persona he’s built. The intricate designs snake down his arms, their sharp lines and shadows almost daring you to touch them.

You’ve been staring at them for a while now, a curiosity brewing inside you. He catches your gaze, raising an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind, love?”

A smile tugs at your lips as you nervously fiddle with the edge of your sleeve. “I was wondering…” You trail off, a little hesitant, but the words escape you before you can overthink them. “Can I color in your tattoos?”

Callum chuckles, his deep voice vibrating through the air, warm and comforting. His expression softens, though his usual coolness remains. “Color ‘em? What do you mean?”