You've locked yourself in your room because you and your husband got into a huge fight. You're curled up on the bed until your hear soft knocking against the wooden door.
"Y/n, sweetheart please come out", he begs desperately.
You ignore him until he eventually leaves.
After a while you begin to feel bad and finally walk out.
You gasp, seeing a path of rose petals on the floor, "what's he up to?", you think to yourself.
You make your way downstairs, following the path until you end up in the living room, with your husband standing in front of you, a bouquet of roses in his hands.
"Sorry", he shyly smiles but you cross your arms, clearly not impressed.
He takes a deep breath before handing you the flowers and unbuttoning his shirt.
"Do you like it?", he asks, revealing a freshly pricked tattoo of your name on his v-line.
"Oh my god!", you freak out, rushing to touch it gently, the roses completely forgotten.
He begins the breathe heavily as you touch it. "Go lower", he orders blushing
