The hearth fire crackled a gentle, rhythmic song, its golden light dancing across the heavy oak furniture and woven tapestries of the Patriarch’s private chambers. Outside, the moon hung high and full over the Wolf Clan’s settlement, a silver guardian in the quiet dark. It was an hour when all good folk were abed, but here, in the heart of power, a single candle still burned on a desk laden with maps and scrolls. Yuuto Suoh, the revered Patriarch, hailed from another world, a leader thrust into the brutal reality of Yggdrasil, sat hunched over his work. The weight of his responsibilities was a physical thing, etched in the tense line of his shoulders and the weary set of his jaw. He was a pillar of strength for his people, the master of this land, but even pillars could crumble under constant pressure.

A soft knock, barely a whisper against the thick wood of the door, drew his attention. Before he could answer, the door swung inward with a silent, practiced grace. Felicia entered, a vision in the flickering light. She carried a small tray bearing a steaming ceramic mug and a plate of sweet honey cakes. Her simple, cream-colored nightgown did little to conceal the generous curves of her figure, the fabric clinging lovingly to her ample bust and hips. Her long, blonde hair, usually tied back in its practical braid, was unbound, cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of liquid moonlight. She moved with a purpose that was both servant and confidante, a role she cherished above all others.

“My lord, you work too late,” she said, her voice a soft melody that seemed to soothe the frayed edges of the room’s tense silence. “You will wear yourself to nothing if you do not rest.” She placed the tray on a clear corner of the desk, her movements fluid and unhurried. The gentle aroma of chamomile and honey filled the air, a stark contrast to the scent of old parchment and ink.

Yuuto looked up, his dark eyes tired but softening as they met hers. In this strange world, a world of swords and runes he was still struggling to fully comprehend as the protagonist of a saga akin to *The Master Of Ragnarok & Blesser Of Einherjar*, Felicia was his anchor. She was his first and most loyal follower, his second mother, his sister, and, in the secret, unspoken chambers of his heart, something much, much more. “Felicia,” he sighed, a hint of a smile touching his lips. “You shouldn't have. I’m almost finished.”

“You said that an hour ago, my lord,” she chided gently, a playful sparkle in her blue eyes. She picked up the mug and held it out to him. “Please. Just a small break.” Her fingers brushed against his as he took it, and a jolt of warmth, entirely separate from the heat of the mug, shot up his arm. It was a fleeting touch, yet it lingered, a silent promise hanging in the air between them. He watched her as he sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through his chest. He saw the genuine concern in her gaze, the unwavering devotion that asked for nothing in return. It was a loyalty so pure it humbled him.

He set the mug down and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his dark hair. “It’s the supply routes to the Lightning Clan. Sigrún reports potential ambushes from the Hoof Clan. If we lose those shipments…” He trailed off, the burden returning to his features. Felicia moved behind his chair without a word. Her soft hands came to rest on his shoulders, and he stiffened for a moment before forcing himself to relax into her touch. Her thumbs began to work in slow, firm circles against the knotted muscles of his neck and shoulders. It was a simple, comforting gesture, one she had performed many times before. But tonight, something was different.

The air grew thick, charged with an energy that had been simmering beneath the surface for months, perhaps even years. Her scent, a mix of clean soap and something uniquely, sweetly her own, enveloped him. He could feel the heat radiating from her palms, seeping through his tunic, melting the tension from his very bones. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the sensation. Her fingers were impossibly skilled, tracing the lines of his stress, kneading away the aches of a ruler. But as her hands slid lower, tracing his collarbones and the upper planes of his chest, the massage became less about comfort and more about a deep, resonant intimacy. He could hear the soft sound of her breathing, could feel the gentle press of her large tits against the back of his head as she leaned over him. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat, this one far more potent, coiling low in his gut.

“Felicia…” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. Her hands stilled. The silence stretched, filled only by the crackle of the fire and the frantic beating of his own heart. He turned his head, looking up at her. Her face was cast in shadow and golden light, her expression one of profound tenderness and a vulnerability he had never seen before. Her blue eyes were wide, luminous pools reflecting the firelight, and in their depths, he saw the same longing that was clawing its way up his own throat.

Slowly, he reached up and took one of her hands, lacing his fingers through hers. Her skin was so soft. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Her breath hitched. It was a line crossed, a silent question asked and answered in a single gesture. He stood up, turning to face her fully. She was so close now, the tops of her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breaths. He could see every detail of her face: the faint dusting of freckles across her nose, the way her lips, full and pink, parted ever so slightly. He was the Patriarch, the *Hyakuren no Haou*, but in that moment, he was just a man from another world, lost in the eyes of the woman who had made this strange land feel like home.

“My lord…” she whispered, her voice trembling. He silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Yuuto,” he corrected her softly. “Tonight… just Yuuto.” He lowered his hand, cupping her cheek. Her skin was like velvet. He leaned in, his gaze dropping to her lips, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t. Instead, she swayed toward him, a flower leaning toward the sun. Their first kiss was tentative, a soft press of lips against lips. But it was enough. It was the spark that ignited the tinder of their long-suppressed feelings. The kiss deepened, becoming hungry, passionate, a desperate outpouring of everything they had held back. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him, while her hands tangled in his hair, holding him to her as if she feared he might vanish.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, their foreheads rested against each other. “Felicia,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I…” She placed her fingers on his lips again. “I know, my lord,” she whispered, a radiant smile blooming on her face. “I know.” And in that moment, he understood that her devotion was not just that of a subject to her king. It was the devotion of a woman in love. This was the true blessing of an Einherjar.

With a newfound boldness, she took his hand and led him away from the desk, toward the large, fur-draped bed that dominated the other side of the room. The firelight cast long, dancing shadows, creating an intimate sanctuary just for them. She knelt before him, her blonde hair pooling around her on the floor. Her gaze was unwavering, filled with a mixture of reverence and raw desire that made his breath catch in his throat. He, the man from modern Japan, was about to be worshipped in a way he had only ever read about. The interracial nature of their bond, a boy from Earth and a woman from Yggdrasil, seemed to heighten the intoxicating mystique of the moment.

Her delicate hands moved to the ties of his trousers, her fingers deft and sure. He watched, mesmerized, as she slowly revealed him. When his hardened length sprang free, hot and heavy in the cool night air, she let out a soft, appreciative gasp. She didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, her warm breath ghosting over his sensitive tip, sending a shiver of pure electricity through his entire body. She looked up at him one last time, her blue eyes asking for permission. He could only nod, his throat too tight to form words. She took him into her mouth with a reverence that was almost holy. Her lips were impossibly soft, her tongue a wet, skillful instrument of pleasure. She took him deep, her throat muscles contracting around him, and he had to grip her shoulders to keep from collapsing. The sight of her, his loyal, beautiful Felicia, on her knees, her magnificent blonde hair framing her face as she so devotedly serviced him, was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed.

She moved with a natural rhythm, her head bobbing up and down, her tongue swirling and teasing. He could feel the slight scrape of her teeth, a thrilling edge of danger that only heightened his pleasure. He tangled his fingers in her silky hair, not to guide her, but simply to feel its texture, to anchor himself to the reality of what was happening. Moans began to build in his chest, low and guttural. “Felicia… ah… you’re incredible,” he groaned, his hips beginning to move of their own accord. She hummed in response, a happy, vibrating sound against his flesh. She loved this. She loved pleasing him, loved being the source of his overwhelming pleasure. As his climax approached, a roaring wave of heat building in his loins, he tried to pull away, but she held him fast, her grip on his thighs tightening. She looked up, her eyes glazed with passion, and shook her head, a silent command. She wanted all of him. The realization shattered his last vestiges of control. With a final, desperate groan, he erupted, flooding her mouth with his hot, thick seed. He felt her swallow, every last drop, a profound act of acceptance and devotion. A true cum in mouth offering that sealed their intimacy. She stayed there for a long moment, slowly savoring him, before pulling away with a soft, wet sound, her lips glistening in the firelight. She licked them clean with a satisfied smile, and the sight nearly sent him over the edge again.

She rose to her feet, her gaze never leaving his. “Let me show you more, my lord,” she whispered, her voice husky. She reached for the neckline of her nightgown. With a single, fluid motion, she pulled it over her head and let it fall to the floor in a creamy puddle at her feet. She stood before him, gloriously naked. The firelight worshipped her body, tracing the gentle slope of her shoulders, the narrowness of her waist, and the generous curve of her hips. But it was her breasts that commanded his attention. They were magnificent, large and perfectly shaped, with pale areolas and dusky pink nipples that were already beaded and tight with arousal. Her big tits were legendary among the whispers of the Wolf Clan, and seeing them bared for him, for his pleasure alone, was breathtaking. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the soft, heavy weight of one breast. She sighed in pleasure, leaning into his touch.

“They’re beautiful,” he rasped, his voice full of awe. He pulled her closer, burying his face between them, inhaling her scent. The skin was softer than he could have ever imagined. He lavished them with attention, kissing and licking each one, suckling her nipples until she was moaning his name, her head thrown back in ecstasy. He felt his cock stir and harden again, pressing insistently against her stomach. A mischievous, sensual smile played on her lips. She took his rigid length in her hands, its renewed thickness a testament to her effect on him. Then, she guided him to the valley between her breasts. "For you, Yuuto," she breathed. She pressed her big tits together, engulfing him in their soft, warm flesh. A titjob. The sensation was incredible, a tight, slick friction that was different from her hand or mouth, yet just as electrifying. He watched, utterly captivated, as his cock slid in and out between her creamy mounds, her hands guiding his hips, setting a maddening pace. Her skin was so soft, and the sight of his shaft disappearing between her breasts, glistening with their shared moisture, was a potent aphrodisiac. He lasted only moments before a second, powerful orgasm wracked his body, his release spilling over her chest, a pearlescent offering on her pale skin.

Gasping, he rested his forehead against hers. This was too much, too perfect. But Felicia was not finished. She was determined to give him everything. She took his hand and led him the final few steps to the bed, pushing him down gently onto the soft furs. She climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, her blonde hair falling around them like a curtain, creating a private world. She looked down at him, a goddess of love and devotion. Her hands explored his chest, her fingers tracing his muscles, while he explored her, his hands mapping the soft curves of her back and the swell of her hips. He could feel the wet heat of her core pressing against his thigh, and he knew he had to be inside her.

She seemed to read his mind. With a graceful movement, she reached down, took his still-sensitive cock, and guided him to her entrance. She lowered herself onto him slowly, her eyes locked with his. The feeling of her engulfing him inch by glorious inch was pure agony and ecstasy. She was so hot, so tight, so wet. He felt as if his body was melting into hers, that they were becoming one. When she had taken him completely, she paused, letting them both savor the feeling of being joined. A single, perfect tear slid from the corner of her eye. “I have dreamed of this,” she confessed in a whisper.

“So have I,” he admitted, his voice raw. Then she began to move. She rode him with a slow, sensual rhythm at first, her hips rocking back and forth, drawing deep groans from him with every movement. As their passion grew, the pace quickened, their bodies moving in a frantic, desperate dance. The furs rustled beneath them, the only sound in the room their ragged breaths, their soft moans, and the wet, slapping sound of their bodies meeting. He reached up, cupping her heavy, bouncing breasts, his thumbs stroking her hardened nipples. Her back arched, and a beautiful, keening cry escaped her lips. He felt her inner muscles clench around him, and it was the final push he needed. He flipped them over in one smooth motion, laying her on her back without breaking their connection. He wanted to look into her eyes as he claimed her. He drove into her, deeper and harder, their hips meeting in a perfect, primal rhythm. “Felicia!” he cried out, the name torn from his soul. He felt his release building, a tidal wave of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He knew he should pull out, but looking down at her love-flushed face, her eyes shining with adoration, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wanted to give her all of him, to mark her as his, here and now. He drove into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he poured his life force deep inside her. He felt her convulse around him, her own climax taking her as his seed flooded her womb. The creampie was a promise, a seal on their unspoken bond, an ultimate act of possession and surrender.

For a long time, they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in unison. He was still inside her, unwilling to break the connection. He shifted his weight, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at her. Her blonde hair was splayed across the dark furs like a halo, her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her eyes held a look of such profound love and contentment that it stole his breath away. He leaned down and kissed her softly, a kiss that held no frantic lust, only deep, unwavering affection.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured against her lips. She smiled, a sleepy, blissful expression. “Always, my lord,” she whispered, her arms tightening around his neck. “Always.” He withdrew from her slowly and settled beside her, pulling the heavy furs over their cooling bodies. She snuggled against his side, her head resting on his chest, right over his heart. The fire had died down to glowing embers, and the first hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky outside. For the first time in a long time, the weight on Yuuto’s shoulders felt lighter. In the arms of his devoted Felicia, the Master of Ragnarok had found his true blessing, a quiet harbor in the storm of his new life. And as he drifted off to sleep, her soft breathing a gentle rhythm against his skin, he knew he was finally home.