PEACHAMBROSIA - a private, selective, independent smut-forward multimuse blog.
written by shaya ( sh-eye-uh ), she/her/herself, 21+
dash-only, using beta editor & x-kit extensions.
my general rules are as follows.
○ you must be over 18 to write with me in general.
○ if you do not have your name/alias and your age listed somewhere visible on your blog, i will not follow you back.
○ activity will fluctuate depending on replies i have and how my mental health fares.
○ i can format to fit your aesthetics, but otherwise, i tend to work in regular-sized font, single spaces, and regular-sized gifs for replies since i have vision problems.
○ banned plots, banned faceclaims, and anything that might trigger me or generally give me the ick are case-by-case and can be spoken about privately.
and, of course, if there's anything that you might need from me - things tagged a certain way, to talk about a plot point or dynamic, or just to say hello and see if we can write together - my IMs are always open and i'm honestly always lurking, so please feel free to stop by !
muses & their faceclaims, aesthetics, tropes, and more under the cut !
updated : 4-11-24 !
jack foster. paul rudd. he/him. 50-55.
○ feels like… the headrush after having kissed someone for a little too long, morning sun on fresh and untouched snow, laughing so hard your abdomen aches, long road trips through mountains.
○ choice tropes : teacher and single father, fake dating/marriage, brand-new neighbors.
dante salvador. pedro pascal. he/him. 45-50.
○ feels like… freshly-chopped cedar wood, shades of blue on a white canvas, reuniting with your dog after being away for so long, when the lights go down just before a concert begins.
○ choice tropes : small town man meets big-city love interest, businessman and call girl/escort, the artist and their muse.
atlas montague. alan ritchson. he/him. 35-40.
○ feels like... gentle fingers pressing into a fresh bruise, a house shaking with thunder, midnight roadtrips, the strum of an electric guitar, flower petals held in calloused hands.
○ choice tropes : bodyguard and celebrity, flower shop owner & tattoo shop owner, football player and cheerleader.
siobhan kingston. madelyn cline. she/her. 25-30.
○ feels like… bass pulsing from music speakers, ripping open gift wrapping paper excitedly, lace against skin, ice skating on a frozen winter lake in the early morning.
○ choice tropes : prolific academic rivals to secret lovers, roommates with benifits, rich kids who only have each other.
annabelle han. lola tung. she/her. 21-25.
○ feels like… moving into a brand new house in a brand new city as a young adult, ripe gala apples pulled from a backyard tree, quiet beach towns holding too many secrets, spinning around in a sparkling dress until the euphoria makes you dizzy.
○ choice tropes : childhood friends to lovers, corruption of the innocent, the princess and the underling.
connections › teammate's girlfriend or younger sister. younger sister's best friend. coach's daughter. anything that fits. taboo welcome. please specify connection in the tags.
character › riley lennox. thirty four. pro hockey player.
"fuck babe," riley groaned against her lips, his hands on the globes off her ass, carrying her with her legs wrapped around his waist. he rushed down the hall in long strides, forcing her against the wall by his hotel room, as he dragged his room key card out of his pocket. shoving it in the slot and waiting for the beep from the door, his hand then went to the handle, before turning and backing through the door into the dimly lit room, with the woman still in his arms. "we need to stop," he mumbled against her lips, making no move to pull away or lower her, as he carried her towards the bed. the team was at an away game and after a win, he was high on adrenaline and endorphins, the weight of his actions not having hit him yet. it more than likely would in the morning. tossing the woman on the bed, he swallowed and shook his head. "fuck," riley murmured at the sight of her, hair mussed from his hands tangling in it, her lipstick smudged and eyes glassy with want. "nobody can know." his hand went to palm his cock through his jeans, as he looked to the woman and waited for her response.
captain of the team's youngest sister. untouchable. impressionable. too damn sweet for her own good. always in their team jerseys, hair in cute buns or low pigtails, cheering and shouting from the frontmost stands. annabelle knew her reputation, what sort of standard she was held to. and she was so, so sick of it. she was twenty-one now, they should be treating her like an adult. so, she was doing the most adult thing she could think of - going behind the back of her brother, her parents, every elder who ever said she was a good kid, and getting tangled up with riley lennox.
had he really wanted to stop ? she was being carried by him after all, so easily too, right into his hotel room and onto the plush king-sized bed. she was tossed just the same, giggling wildly as she bounced a bit, left to sit up and look at him, dizzy with neediness and excitement. " nobody can know. " she nodded once, doe eyes flitting to where his hand was, the warmth blooming in her cheeks matching the warmth quickly pooling between her legs. " promise. " innocence in the single word turning her an even darker shade of rose. she scooted toward the end of the bed, sitting just in front of where he stood. dainty hands came up, hesitated, and then settled on his thighs. " i'll be a good girl for you, nox. " cadence dropped with his nickname, weighted with her desire. " just - tell me what you want. " eyes dared to pull away from the bulge in his jeans, pupils blown out, looking up at him with reverence, asking to be guided.
open to f. plot: based on the source post. connection: sister ( full / half / step ), cousin, st.ep-mother, older neighbour, best friend's mom, brother's girlfriend, and anything else welcome. don't like this starter.
another loud grunt as the barbell is lifted, bulging arms straining against the weight but pushing himself to keep going anyway. though it's been a couple years since he had to train for a big game, likes to keep himself active and in shape, if not for the health benefits, for the attention he gets from girls and women alike. but there's one in particular that he's desperate to get his hands on — the very reason he moved his equipment outside this summer, so she can see and hear him no matter where in the house she is. “ you have to pay to p.erv, you know, ” remarks with a grin, blues sliding to meet the stray who's joined him outside. setting the bar down, miles slips out from under it, coming to a sitting position on the bench. shirtless and sweaty, squinting his eyes against the sun, he gestures to a bottle on the nearby doorstep. “ pass me that water, will you ? i'm dying here. ”
she'd been staying the weekend with her boyfriend and his family, but this was the first annabelle had seen anyone other than the matriarch of the house around in that time. she tried not to think too much into it - how they might be avoiding her because she was still sensitive from the past few months, with the cheating and the breakup, all the groveling and begging for her forgiveness, the reluctance in taking him back - and instead had lingered a little too long in the garage entryway as miles exercised. watching, eyes idly tracing over his figure, how good he looked in the sun, shining and sweaty...
called out, the girl goes pink in the cheeks. " oh - uh - well, you're charging. so maybe that makes you the perv. " she's grinning when she says it, but she's inwardly cringing. so not funny.
she quickly steps out into the sun, short sundress fluttering in the kicked-up breeze, picks up the water bottle, and hands it over. " yeah, no wonder, " she quips back, still smiling. conversation because she's bored of being alone in the house waiting for her boyfriend to come home from wherever she was, because she's secretly always enjoyed her his older brother's company much more. " it's like a billion degrees. " she squints too, looks around at the empty driveway. " why're you out here all by yourself ? " eyes finally land back on him, pointedly avoiding looking at anything but his face.
connections › friend with benefits. girlfriend. sister. best friend's girlfriend. anything that fits. taboo welcome. please specify connection in the tags.
character › river monroe. twenty seven. celebrity chef.
his lips descended on her shoulder in a kiss as she straddled him, grinding against his clothed cock as though her life depended on it. he wasn't even inside of her yet, yet they both found themselves breathing heavily. river's teeth bit down on the skin on her shoulder, leaving an imprint before pulling his head back, and looking at his mark. "so pretty," he complimented as he looked up at her, noticing her flushed skin and choppy breaths. his hand palmed his cock through his pants, before quickly undoing them and releasing himself. he kept his hand on her hip while running a finger over the bead of pre-cum on the crown and then took that same finger and pushed it into her. "i'm going to wreck this fucking pussy," he cooed sweetly as he dragged his finger out of her, and then thrusting it harshly into her again. river's lips went to her throat, removing his fingers from her naked heat, only to then replace them with the thick head of his length. "i'm going to fuck you and fill you up with my cum. over and over again." he spoke the words as he slowly guided her down, impaling her on his cock. river left her no room to think about the fact that he was bare inside of her or the fact that he was intending on cumming inside of her, but rather groaned and bit down on the junction between her neck and shoulder, feeling a primal need to mark the girl.
they'd been tangled together for what felt like hours. round after round, orgasm after orgasm, almost like a competition to see who could get more out of the other. friendly. no-string attached. friends with the added benefit of getting to see each other come undone. river had siobhan hooked. sitting in his lap, comfortable and a little sticky with sex and sweat, just his shirt haphazardly thrown on, content. the gentle kiss to her bare shoulder ending with teeth in her shoulder, made her seethe beautifully, lithe hands settling on his chest, only just enough space for his hands to dip into the elastic of his sweats. " pretty for you... " she drawled, her grin cat-like, enjoying the tease.
she tilted her hips onto his digit, a soft moan of revelation at the fuller feeling. " mmph - promise ? " she huffed, that single spark igniting her, needy and pining. the motions were set, her adjusting slightly, lifting so he could guide her onto him. " you gonna make me yours ? " it's gentle, sweet. softness reserved only for him. " fill me up and - and breed me ? " another huff, and a wonton, loud moan, satisfied as she's filled with his thick cock. and she immediately begins to move, no time spared as she throws herself into the passion.
open to: f/nb - family friend, in-law, friend's daughter, step family, etc
inspo: Found here.
muse: Nicolas (p. pascal fc, divorced, father of a toddler, burned by his past relationship and strict with his new lovers)
She'd only been staying with Nic for a few weeks, but the tension kept mounting. All those little shirts and tiny shorts she wore, those tops that barely hid anything... part of him wanted to punish her for being so wanton, but most of him just wanted to jump her. He liked good girls, innocent and well behaved girls, and sometimes Nic wondered if she just didn't realize how many people would likely lust after her body, how they would picture her dripping in cum. Nic knew that he shouldn't fantasize, but when he came in one afternoon to find her asleep on the couch with her shorts twisted in such a way that he could see her bare pussy, he couldn't resist her. Getting her bottoms out of the way, Nic let himself indulge, licking his fingers and rubbing at her pussy, seeing how responsive she was and how she took a finger. Fuck, it had been so long, and he was being kind enough to let her stay with him, she owed it to him to spread her legs and let him use her cunt. Freeing his hardened cock from his pants, Nic soon pushed inside of her before reaching for her wrists, keeping her pinned down as he started fucking her.
the summer was already turning out to be one of the hottest she'd ever experienced in her young life. long, sweltering days only giving way to milder, dry nights, left annabelle at her best friend's house more days than she could count, everything blending and melting together into a stickysweet memory.
her clothes had barely even been a thought, the shortest skirts and thinnest tanktops she could manage, just barely concealing anything when not in a two-piece to try and combat the heat. she'd spent most of the afternoon like that, lazing in the warm house after a whole night before outside in the pool, now in clean and baggy pajamas, twisted and curled up like a content, sleepy kitten.
the touches and motions were barely registered as she dozed, even a contented hum escaping her soft mouth as she lay there half-conscious. her body responded naturally, wetness slicking her folds, drenching anything that dare come in contact with it. the finger first - her breath in was slow, long, hips sleepily lifting just the tiniest bit to give better access. a dream, a hot, wet dream, visceral and vivid, an equally-soft moan left behind -
" f - fuck - " a stutter, a whisper, just barely awake now, the thick length stretching her out. " yes - sir - " dreaming ? about her best friend's father rutting into her like a dog in heat ? more likely than you'd think.
open: m/f/nb ( 21+ if romantic, age gaps welcome )
muse: pia baquiran, sex worker/grad student
"Hello?" Pia sat up in bed slowly, staring towards the door with trepidation, unsure if she'd heard the hotel door click open or not but greatly regretting not changing immediately after showering. As a figure appeared, she froze, staring steadily at them. "Can I help you?"
hands come up, a surrender, a show of innocence. " hi. " it's gentle, if not a bit awkward. " didn't mean to startle you. swear. " his smile is equally-so, overall demeanor just impeccably kind. hopeful even, that smile on his face even a little lovelorn. " i was uh... sent here by the girl at the front desk, " he explained, not moving from the doorway, but casting himself in the warm amber glow of the bedroom light. " i'm jack. she said you were expecting me ? " a beat, then, " unless you're not miss baquiran, and i just walked into the wrong room - which, if i did, oh my god, i am so sorry - " his chuckle is really just because he's feeling a little out-of-place. but, he imagines, if he's in the right place and talking to the right girl, fitst meetings with call girls usually are.
open starter for ladies 25+
plot inspo here
connection: gf, spouse, fiance, fwb, sugar baby etc.
something romantic
This meant to be a simple evening of networking with past, present and potential clients for his engineering firm. Brooks had brought her as his date in order to give him some added confidence going into the event. Obviously they felt their purpose to be boring which did not sit well with him. After excusing them from a drab conversation he steered her into a nearby room pushing her face first against the wall his body weight pressed against her. "Do I really need to teach you a lesson about social grace right now? Cause with the way you're acting I think you need it fucked into you." He growled into her ear as his hands moved down her body. Of course she looked stunning, she always did but right now he was focused on her behavior. "Who do you think you are standing next to me looking like you do, acting like your and expect me to do nothing?" He laughed under his breath as he felt his cock twitch to life against her. "This is what you want huh? Honey I would fuck you in front of that entire room so they know you're nothing more than my little whore. What do you have to say for yourself darling?"
she knew what she was there for, what she'd been paid to do - stand there, look cute, grin and giggle and cling to brooks like he was the only man that ever mattered to her. and she was good at it, too, when she wanted to be. but the last hour had been a run for his money - wandering off without him, letting word get back to him that she was laughing and caressing other men's arms and accepting their offers of drinks and making pretty eyes at them in her cute little gold dress that left only enough to the imagination to be a tease.
it was only a matter of time until she'd felt his strong hand encompass her arm, dragging her off as she stumbled through the crowd, barely fighting the grin on her features. hook, line, sinker.
siobhan was against the wall with a gasp, back pressed to front, ass immediately arching into his hips. " i think i'm the darling little whore you paid to be your arm candy for the night, " she begun, voice saccharine, head tilting to one side as she addressed him. " who got so bored she just had to go off and find some way to entertain herself for a bit. " so, ultimately, she got what she wanted, on both counts. " maybe i should be the one teaching you the lessons on how to be a good boy. " a challenge, goading with a purpose. " maybe you should be calling me ' sir ' instead. " the grin was unmistakable in her tone. she's playing a game she knows she's about to lose, and she wants it.
open to: everyone
plot: blair [she/her, top (for this thread only)] is the mother superior at a church and y/m [nun, acolyte, patron, etc.] has just confessed in sinning. which means blair is going to take advantage of the situation.
please do not like my starters
"so you have sinned, little one. you were right to come to me," the mother superior stood over the gentle face in the pews, smiling that knowing and somewhat sad smile. it was the same expression blair always wore when someone confessed to her like this. and it always ended the same. "you know what this means. we need to go to the confessional booth. i need to hear all about your lust-filled sins. every detail," one hand out to lead them off of the wood of the common space and towards the private confessional booth.
to bring about the apocalypse requires chaos and strife, but nothing quite like what siobhan has committed. a personal sin, one of the heart, of the body. it shows even in how she kneels before her mother superior - head bowed low, eyelids at half-mast, pin-straight blonde locks framing her downturned face in a veil.
" yes, mother. " in her voice, the same guilt, shame; embarrassment. battling the more instinctual, terrible part of her, that demands to be punished, that doesn't feel an inch of regret at all. " thank you, mother. " she finally looks up, dark eyes pleading and wanting, the thanks a relief, soft as a breath. she stands with a soft whoosh of dark red robes, taking the hand that carries her to salvation, the confession booth a shadowy, cool area for her repentance.
it is a booth fit for two, as most confessionals are, high priestess and devotee separated by a screen and nothing more.
" by mother, by father, by the one below - i declare to you my sins of lust and gluttony, " is how she begins, how all confessions begin, her voice strong but careful, the internal battle waging war inside her mouth. " i am - i am a sinner of the body and the mind, mother. and i need to be punished. " and while the words ring true, in some way, in others, they are hollow in her ears and ashy on her tongue.
open: f/nb
muse: colson ' col ' hulls 22-25 ( son of a wealthy politician )
plot: a wealthy politician's son is stalking and obsessed with your muse even having them followed. he craves and wants them to the point where he has been purposely chasing off her dates by paying them off and spreading rumours about her. agreeing to talk about how they can move on and come to a deal my muse isn't going to let her go without striking a deal first. age gap is welcomed
" i just wanted to say thanks for finally getting all the wiser to come here and talk to me. my dad's out of town and security won't bother us in his office. " handing her the glass of whiskey with the intention to possibly get her tipsy which would benefit him. remaining cordial and polite in his warm voice yet deeper beneath the facade he was indeed the opposite of being someone selfless and modestly humble as his ambition could not be controlled always seeking to get what he wanted.
" so what would you like to talk about because i am willing to actually hear you out and come to maybe an arrangement for us so that things won't get out of hand? " he would share in confidence believing that an arrangement could be made over a compromise or even a deal as he was not going to back down until he got what he wanted which wasn't particularly her but her body so he can use it to indulge upon fantasies he was seeking to bring out into fruition. he was sleazy but didn't have any shame but a rather ferocious ego.
it's been thirty-one days of this feeling, this sinking, deeply off feeling, and she was tired of it. so, so tired, of her friends drifting away, of no romantic connections, even her parents had gotten shorter and meaner with her. annabelle felt she was out of options, only left to confront the root of the problem.
just a boy. handing her a very nice crystal glass of incredibly expensive whiskey, using a soft tone, voice deep and melodic in this plush, opulent sort of office space. one that barely looked used, like they were the first two people in it in fifty years. a boy. a problem. a menace.
" well. " her voice was soft too, but the heat in it was unmistakable. angry. " i was sort of getting tired of seeing scary dudes in all-black in the corner of my vision. so. " that was a bit of an exaggeration - she knew he was smart enough to not let them be seen until he wanted them to be seen - but she wasn't in the habit of being nice, at the moment. she did, however, take a burning, awful sip of the liquid. steeling herself, placating him, whatever it may be, but her face scrunched nonetheless. there was a reason she was much more of a cocktail girl.
" i guess i just want to know, why me ? " she finally asked him, that softness turning a bit pleading, the desperation cracking the facade, the loneliness peeking through cultivated over the last month.
open starter !!
muse: quinn wesberg, forty, he/him
plot: quinn is an incredibly well known horror film director, and also a big d-bag, and y/m is currently trying to convince him to give them another shot since they totally blew their first audition. he's willing to hear them out but... he might need a tad bit more convincing. please do not like my starters.
open to: any !! age gaps welcome.
❛ SO — ❜ quinn drawls, leaning far back in his chair as he cocked a brow at them, tapping the end of his pen against the stack of audition forms he still had yet to go through. ❛ you show up fifteen minutes late, don't have the material memorized, and don't have your headshot or resume .... but now you want me to give you another shot ?? ❜ it was almost comical, the lengths these young actors would go to in order to secure a role in one of his films, and quinn reveled in how easy it was to snuff out those flames of hope. an almost wicked grin pulled at the corner of his lips, and he cocked his head to the side, almost gawking at them. ❛ why should i give you a second chance ?? do i look like some fuckin' amateur who likes having their time wasted ?? ❜
he's right, about everything. and in any other circumstance, any other actor or actress would wither and deflate under his gaze, the tone in his voice sending them running for the door. but not siobhan. it lights a flame in her, makes her tilt her chin up just a bit.
" do i ? " she bites back, temper flaring. " your girls are notorious divas - showing up late, shitty improv on-camera because they don't know their lines, getting fucked up on coke in their dressing rooms between takes - " rumors spread like wildfire, especially among the smaller starlets, " - but i'm the real fuckin' thing. " and she's tired of trying to downplay it like she's not. " i know what it takes to be a final girl. to be a star. " she takes a step forward, fire in her eyes, puts her hands on his desk and leans to get in his personal space.
" what'll it take to prove it to you ? " she asks then, turning it onto him. " ask it, and i'm there. anything you need, anything you want, i'm here for it. " hollywood is a nasty business, but she's never been afraid of getting her hands dirty, and washing them clean has always been easy when you speak in blood and money.
open to: everyone
plot: kris [they/them. top (for this thread only)] is the main assistant to the ceo of a major corporation and that job is a lot of stress. they hired y/m to be both a regular office assistant and a set of holes to use when things got too stressful.
please do not like my starters
"do you r-really think that i need you to be worrying about your work? really? do you understand that i am the ceo's assistant and that i need some sort of release." the worker in question had been hired by kris and kris had been clear about their main part of the job. even if it hadn't happened in a bit (they had been quite busy lately.) "we can do this right here in the office in front of the others or we can go back to my office. either way, duty calls cutie."
annabelle froze, her movements only a distraction from her scrambled brain, now rendered absolutely useless. shuffling papers, putting them in order, it didn't mean anything, at the moment. one of the newest secretaries, one of the youngest, and one of the most willing to do what it took to keep the job and rise in ranks.
" no ma'am. " a quick beat, then, " i mean - yes, i do understand. that you don't need me to worry about this right now. ma'am. " she was just a little flustered from what had just been asked of her. " you take top priority. " she straightened up to her full height - still not much taller than her boss - and nodded. " we can... go to your office to... discuss things privately, " she offered, voice a bit softer, knowing there wasn't much need for a cover, that it was an open secret how she was going to be used. " unless you - uhm - need to make an example out of me. " the words brought color to her cheeks, the idea both incredibly embarrassing and unexpectedly leaving a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach.
he drains the last of his bottle as they sit side by side on the couch, both of them already a few drinks in and feeling a little drunk. callum's warm hand slides up and down her thigh, calloused fingers a contrast to soft skin as the idea he's been pondering over for the last five minutes comes to fruition. "you nearly done with your own bottle, sweetheart?" he questions, turning towards her as his hand slides higher up her skirt, fingers brushing over her panties and remaining there to tease her. "i wanna see something when you're done."
his touch is erotic, her body immediately responding to it in kind - bare legs come up, sling lucidly over his lap. being on her third bottle of beer only accentuated, heightened her senses rather than dulled them. no matter what kind of rich family someone came from, it didn't take away the fact that they could be a total lightweight.
" mhm. " it's a comfortable sound, rim of bottle to her lips as she takes one of the last swigs of the alcohol. as his hand travels further up her leg, she instinctively parts them just a little wider, gives him the room he should need.
and he does just what she was hoping, a soft huff of satisfied, amused breath breaking past her lips when calloused digits catch on soft baby blue cotton. " you've got a look on your face, " siobhan comments, head tilting to one side when she looks to him, that amusement on her sweet features. " i'm almost afraid to ask what you've got planned. " but the warmth quickly growing between her legs says everything - she's not afraid at all.
