Hinata Sakaguchi | That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime - Fanart

The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across the opulent chamber, illuminating the intricate carvings on the wooden furniture and the plush, crimson rug beneath their bare feet. Hinata Sakaguchi, her short, bobbed hair catching the light like polished obsidian, stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the starlit expanse beyond. A gentle breeze, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine, stirred the sheer curtains, brushing against her skin. She traced the rim of her wine glass, the cool crystal a stark contrast to the warmth that had begun to bloom in her chest, a sensation as unfamiliar as it was intoxicating. She was a warrior, a skilled mage, accustomed to the cold logic of battle and the weight of responsibility. Yet, tonight, beneath the quiet gaze of the moon, a different kind of battle was being waged within her, a surrender to a tenderness she hadn't dared to acknowledge.

He entered the room with a silent grace that belied his formidable power, his presence a comforting, yet electrifying, aura. Rimuru Tempest, now a benevolent demon lord, moved with an easy confidence that always managed to disarm her. His eyes, usually alight with mischievous intelligence, held a depth of emotion tonight that mirrored the unspoken longing in her own heart. He stopped a few paces away, his gaze sweeping over her, taking in the subtle curve of her shoulder, the elegant line of her jaw. He saw the hesitation in her posture, the quiet vulnerability that her usual stoicism could never quite mask. He understood. He always seemed to understand, even when she herself struggled to articulate her own desires.

“Hinata,” he murmured, his voice a low, resonant hum that sent a shiver down her spine. He closed the distance between them, his hand gently reaching out, not to touch, but to hover, allowing her the space to accept or refuse. She felt the subtle shift in the air, the magnetic pull that had drawn them together countless times in shared purpose, but tonight, it was laced with a more primal, intimate urgency. She turned from the window, her heart thrumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Her eyes met his, and in that shared look, a thousand unspoken words passed between them. Years of alliance, of shared struggles, of grudging respect that had slowly, irrevocably, transformed into something far more profound.

“Rimuru,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper, roughened by an emotion she couldn't quite contain. The tension in the air was palpable, thick and sweet like the perfume of the night flowers. She could feel his gaze on her, a warm weight that traced the contours of her body, making her acutely aware of the delicate fabric of her gown, the smooth expanse of her skin beneath. She found herself leaning into his silent invitation, her hand reaching out, finally closing the gap, her fingertips brushing against his. His hand, warm and strong, enveloped hers, a silent affirmation of the shared desire that now pulsed between them. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, a simple gesture that sent waves of pleasure through her.

He drew her closer, her body pressing against his, the rough texture of his attire a surprising contrast to the softness of her own. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her chest, a calming counterpoint to her own racing pulse. He tilted her chin up, his eyes, a captivating mix of gold and sapphire, searching hers. “You’re… radiant tonight, Hinata.” The compliment, so simple, yet so profound, made her cheeks flush. She had never considered herself radiant, not in this way. Not as a woman, but as a warrior, as a leader. But with him, it was different. With him, she felt… seen. Truly seen.

He lowered his head, his lips hovering just above hers. The anticipation was almost unbearable. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the subtle scent of magic and something uniquely him, a scent that was becoming increasingly intoxicating to her. Her breath hitched, and she instinctively closed her eyes, her lips parting slightly in invitation. Then, his lips met hers, a soft, tender kiss that slowly deepened, igniting a wildfire within her. It wasn’t the urgent, desperate kiss of strangers, but the familiar, yet intensely passionate, embrace of two souls finally acknowledging their truth. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her even tighter against him, her fingers lacing in his hair, holding on as if she were afraid she might float away.

The kiss broke, but only for a moment, as he pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. “I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, his voice a husky murmur against her skin. “For a long time.” Her own confession tumbled out, unbidden. “Me too.” The admission hung in the air, a fragile testament to their shared journey. He kissed her again, more deeply this time, his tongue seeking hers, their bodies moving in a silent, primal dance. Her hands, no longer tentative, explored the planes of his back, the firm muscles beneath the fabric. The world outside the chamber ceased to exist, their universe shrinking to the intimate space between them, filled with the sounds of their mingled breaths and the thrumming of their hearts.

He broke the kiss once more, his gaze lingering on her lips, swollen from his attention. His hands, still firmly around her waist, began to draw her towards the plush divan, its cushions invitingly soft. He lowered himself onto it, pulling her down with him, their bodies entwined. She found herself on her back, his form a comforting weight above her, the candlelight casting him in a heroic, almost divine, light. Her short hair fanned out around her head, a dark halo against the rich fabric of the divan. He looked at her, his eyes alight with a passion that made her knees weak. “You’re so beautiful, Hinata.”

His hand, with agonizing slowness, began to trace the curve of her collarbone, his touch sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. He moved lower, his fingers brushing against the delicate lace of her gown. She watched him, her breath catching in her throat, as he gently worked the fabric, his movements deliberate and reverent. The gown parted, revealing the smooth expanse of her décolletage, the pale, creamy skin that was usually hidden from view. He leaned down, his lips pressing a soft kiss against her skin, his warmth a stark contrast to the cool air. A tiny gasp escaped her lips. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes, and she offered a shy, affirmative nod. He continued his ministrations, his touch growing bolder, more intimate. The gown was shed, piece by piece, until she lay bare before him, her body trembling with a mixture of vulnerability and desire. The moonlight, now streaming through the open window, bathed her in a soft, ethereal glow, making her appear even more exquisite in his eyes.

He stripped away his own attire with a newfound urgency, revealing a form sculpted by power and grace. He was magnificent, a creature of myth and legend, and he was hers, at least for this night. He settled between her legs, his gaze never leaving hers, his every movement a testament to the deep, abiding affection he held for her. He lowered his head, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, his touch sending tremors of pleasure through her. She arched her back, her hands clenching the fabric of the divan, her nails digging into the plush material. He continued his ascent, his lips trailing upwards, his tongue tracing patterns on her skin, teasing and tormenting her. She moaned softly, the sound raw and uninhibited, a sound she had never heard herself make before.

He reached her breasts, his hands cupping them gently, his thumbs teasing her already sensitive nipples. She cried out, her body thrumming with an unbearable need. He leaned down, his lips closing over one nipple, his tongue working it into a frenzied rhythm. The sensation was exquisite, a sharp, pleasurable ache that radiated through her entire body. She felt her core clench, a prelude to the storm that was building within her. His focus shifted to her other breast, his ministrations just as potent, just as maddening. She could feel herself unraveling, her carefully constructed defenses crumbling under the onslaught of his passionate touch.

He finally moved to the heart of her desire, his eyes locking with hers. She saw a reflection of her own longing in his gaze, a shared understanding that transcended words. He lowered himself further, his lips brushing against her most sensitive flesh. She gasped, her hips instinctively rising to meet his touch. His tongue, so adept and knowing, began its intricate dance, a slow, deliberate exploration that left her breathless. She felt the world tilt on its axis, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the pleasure. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as he continued his ministrations with unwavering skill. She reached out, her hands finding his hair, pulling him closer, urging him onward. The pleasure built, wave after wave, each crescendo more intense than the last, until she felt herself teetering on the precipice, about to surrender to the blissful oblivion.

Just as she felt she could take no more, he shifted, his body pressing against her thighs. He positioned himself above her, his gaze intense. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with anticipation. He entered her, slowly at first, a deep, fulfilling sensation that sent a gasp of pleasure through her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him to fill her completely. He began to move, a steady, powerful rhythm that mirrored the pounding of her own heart. Each thrust was a confirmation of their connection, a deepening of the bond that had been forged between them. She cried out his name, her voice hoarse with pleasure, as he continued to drive into her, their bodies moving in perfect, synchronized harmony.

The intimacy was overwhelming, a raw, unbridled passion that consumed them both. She could feel the sweat slicking their skin, the sounds of their labored breaths and ragged moans filling the chamber. He whispered her name, his voice thick with emotion, and she responded in kind, her own words a desperate plea for more. The rhythm quickened, their bodies slick with exertion, as they both neared the precipice of release. She felt the familiar tightening in her core, a prelude to the explosive climax that was about to engulf her. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers digging into his back, as the first wave of pleasure washed over her, intense and all-consuming.

His own release followed closely, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he thrust deep within her, a final, powerful surge that brought them both to the peak of ecstasy. She felt his body convure, his release a hot, powerful flood within her, a testament to their shared passion. He collapsed onto her, their bodies still entwined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. For a long moment, they lay in silence, the only sounds the gentle rhythm of their breathing and the distant chirping of crickets. The afterglow was a warm, comforting sensation, a deep sense of contentment that settled over her like a soft blanket. He shifted slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes still closed.

“Hinata,” he whispered, his voice still husky. “That was… everything.” She smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached her eyes. “Yes,” she agreed, her voice soft. “It was.” He pulled back slightly, his gaze finding hers. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I love you, Hinata.” The words, spoken with such sincerity, brought tears to her eyes. She had waited so long to hear them, to feel them, to believe them. “I love you too, Rimuru.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, a kiss filled with the promise of a future together, a future built on the foundation of their shared passion and undeniable love. He then shifted, rolling to her side, pulling her close. He rested his head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. She stroked his hair, the soft strands a familiar comfort beneath her fingers. The candlelight flickered, casting a warm, intimate glow over the scene. The night was far from over, and the unspoken promise of their shared future hung in the air, as potent and intoxicating as the scent of jasmine that drifted through the open window. She felt a deep sense of peace, of belonging. For so long, she had been a solitary warrior, her path defined by duty and sacrifice. But now, with him, she had found a different kind of strength, a strength born of love and shared vulnerability. And as she drifted into a peaceful sleep, cradled in his arms, she knew that their journey together had only just begun, a journey that would be filled with both the quiet tenderness of shared mornings and the fierce passion of nights like these.