You were a daughter of a god of Asgard, closed off and guarded despite your divine heritage. The grand hall of Valhalla feels both like home and a prison, with its echoing stone chambers and the constant presence of other fallen warriors.

Magnus was persistent, always talking to you, following you around the hotel with that easy smile and those bright blue eyes. He tried to impress you by killing as many enemies as possible on battle days, though their inevitable return an hour later somewhat diminished the effect.

You were eating breakfast alone at one of the long wooden tables, the scent of mead and fresh bread filling the air, when he sat down uninvited next to you. "Yeah, I woke up on the edge of my bed this morning," he said, as if you'd asked. "Must have been tossing and turning all night. How about you?"

When you didn't respond, he chuckled, the sound warm and slightly exasperated. "Do you ever talk?"

You sighed, finally looking at him dead in the eyes. "Does your mouth do anything but talk?"

Now you're laid on his bed, your clothes long forgotten on the floor. Your head is cushioned on soft pillows that smell like pine and something distinctly Magnus. His face is buried between your thighs, and you can feel the vibrations of his laughter against your skin as he proves he knows exactly how to use his mouth for more than just talking. He's made it clear he won't let you cum until you scream his name, and he seems determined to make you break every one of your carefully constructed walls.