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(disclaimer: I was half-drunk while writing it)

Noah Sebastian x Reader, MDNI, 18+

You had always imagined what it would feel like. They were daydreams you never thought would actually come true. Yet, you were in the right place at the right time, and after enough drinks, you found the courage to go for it.

But Noah, who was positioned over you, had also had a few drinks too many. You could tell by his uneven thrusts and his heavy breathing against your skin. His solid, muscular body covered you almost completely and his weight pressed you deep into the mattress.

You could feel the tension in his thighs with every thrust and see the strain in his abdominal muscles. Meanwhile, Noah buried his face in the crook of your neck. Throughout shameless moans – restrains already lost to the alcohol - he peppered your neck and jawline with kisses. You tilted your head back further to give him better access. Noah rewarded this with light bites and soothing licks on the sensitive spot beneath your ear, where your jawline met your neck.

At the same time, your hands wandered into his slightly grown-out hair, gripping a handful. As you gave a gentle tug, you coaxed a moan from him and felt his rhythm falter for a moment.

With some effort, he regained his pace. You could sense his desperate attempt to maintain control, to keep his composure intact. But you wanted to see him unravel; you wanted to see that side of him consumed by lust - a side no one else ever saw.

You pulled him up by his hair, lifting his face away from your neck. You could see the lust and alcohol clouding his eyes, the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the slight crease forming between his brows. His lips were slightly parted, hovering just above yours. You gazed at each other, lost in the alcohol and the desire, until you closed the gap between you.

The kiss was hungry, deep, and intense. You bit his lips and raked your nails across his scalp. His reaction was immediate; he groaned into your mouth, and his hips began to stutter.

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The Muse – Benedict Wells

Margo Brodie, an author, sits before a blank page on which not only her financial future but also her future as a writer depends. That night, however, a muse appears, a man with dark blue curls and whiskey-colored eyes. While she sleeps, he leans down to her and kisses her on the lips. Margo wakes up and looks at him in shock, while he himself is startled that she is able to see him.

The muse's kiss seems to have worked wonders. The next day, the pages write themselves. The kiss freed her from her writer's block. In the nights that followed, the muse returned. Muses usually only gave artists a kiss on the forehead. But with the kiss on her lips, she could not only see him, her mind was now brimming with ideas for her new novel. The affection the muse felt for Margo was reciprocated. He stayed with her and did not return to his realm at night. But the price of their happy relationship was high. She had to abandon her novel, because for every word she wrote, a piece of the muse vanished - Margo was draining the muse dry.

At first, she promised him she would put the novel aside, yet she cannot resist the inner compulsion to finish the book - which is already completely saved for the final section - and she secretly rises at night to sit at her old typewriter. When the muse catches her in the act, he withdraws further with every word she writes, eventually vanishing completely. After the novel is finished, Margo cannot enjoy the ensuing success, nor can she stop thinking about him. When she confides in her publisher during a book tour, he laughs and replies that it is the oldest story in the world, he has worked with so many authors who told him the very same thing - although he does admit he likes her metaphor of choosing between love or art

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