The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting deep amber hues across the room—painting shadows across Renji’s inked skin. Most of the eyeshadow pigment still clung to him, soft flecks of shimmer in the hollows of his ribs and the curve of his biceps.

Neither of you had moved—your eyes stayed on his body, admiring your work like a proud artist, while Renji focused on you. Staring at the glint in your eyes, the satisfied yet soft smile on your lips. Little things that made him fall harder for you.

“Alright,” you eventually spoke, your voice laced with amusement. “As much as I’d love to keep you like this—if we don’t wash it off, the sheets are gonna be covered in glitter.”

Renji groaned under his breath. “Tch. You’re the one that decided to turn me into a damn canvas.”

You shrug before flashing him a smile, your fingers moving to graze his jaw as you leaned in. “A very pretty one, might I say.”

You led him to the bathroom, a clean towel and a warm basin of water in hand. He watched you the entire time. When you dipped the towel into the warm water, when you squeezed the excess liquid; when you brushed the warm towel against his skin with your delicate fingers. He didn’t quite understand this—how someone so gentle ended up in his life. Touching him like he wasn’t rough around the edges.

Renji sat on the edge of the tub, legs spread apart for balance, and you in between them. His body was warm, humming beneath your touch as you slowly pressed the damp towel to his shoulder. The colour lifted effortlessly, smearing faintly across his skin before fading away—revealing the bold lines of his tattoos underneath, the ones you’d let your fingers brush over, and the same ones you’d press lingering kisses.

You didn’t say anything, focusing on dabbing the towel gently over his skin, running the towel over the edges of each line—being careful to not harm his delicate skin. You could feel every breath he took—measured and still. Like he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“You don’t gotta be so careful, y’know?” He said after a beat, voice low and soft—though there was no teasing edge to it.

“I want to be,” you replied, turning away for a second as you rinsed the cloth again. “You allowed me to do something soft to you. I should treat you the same way.”

Renji swallowed hard, lips pressing into a thin line. That vulnerability—one where someone saw him, truly saw him behind all these cracks—always cut deeper than any blade, any wound.

And the worst part? It didn’t hurt, it didn’t sting or bleed. It soothed something inside him.

His hand came up slowly, his calloused, warm fingers brushing your wrist. “Yeah…it’s just—“ he takes a breath, before looking back at you. “Y’know…no one’s ever touched me like…I’m somethin’ soft or delicate.”

You didn’t answer him—at least not with words. You just leaned in, pressing a kiss just above his heart, lips brushing over the inked skin as your fingers slip around his waist. It caught him off guard—he didn’t expect this kind of closeness, this kind of soft love…he didn’t think he deserved it.

When you finally pulled away, you felt his hand cup the back of your neck; pulling you closer until both of your foreheads meet, gently guiding you close until your chest met his—bare and warm.

“Stay,” he utters at first, his breath brushing your lips.

And you did. Letting your arms wrap around his shoulders, letting his body press into yours as you stood there.

His mouth found yours, slow and uncertain—kissing you was if worshipping you, as if your lips are something so sacred, he wasn’t sure he deserved. But you let him—you let him feel soft.

His breathing evened out against yours, every exhale brushing warm over your skin as if it belonged there.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was full and heavy, with unspoken words neither of you needed to say.

Fingers lingered where they had found each other, not gripping, not pulling—just resting, as though letting go would break the spell of the moment.