KitschDKMV
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The exact moment Colin comes, he realises Penelope is watching him.
He is a fucking idiot, isn’t he?
Because he’s so used to touching himself with his noise-cancelling headphones on. Months of staying in dorms and hostels, shared rooms where he must pleasure himself silently, watching porn on his phone under the sheets once he is sure everyone else is asleep. It felt like second nature to do it here, now, on his little sister’s best friend’s sofa where he is crashing for the next two weeks.
In all fairness, she was supposed to be out all evening. She was not supposed to be standing behind him, her eyes darting between his laptop (“BBW redhead facesitting” in his search-bar) and his cock and the cum now painting his stomach and fist, his joggers and underwear pushed to his thighs.
OR - Penelope catches Colin watching porn
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Bookmarked by KitschDKMV
22 Feb 2026
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A Lesson Worth Learning by LightLeadingMe, queenofthecon for Elle018
Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
02 Apr 2024
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He’d been burying his feelings for Penelope, that much he knew; though if anyone asked him when things had changed, Colin wouldn’t have been able to say.
It wasn’t until he had submitted his last article that he felt like this weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Colin had immediately booked a flight home to London from the hostel in Italy, and his body and mind finally felt in sync. He was ready to be what she deserved, to give her all of him.
Except, then that party happened.
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Bookmarked by KitschDKMV
21 Feb 2026
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“I – perhaps I might stroke myself over you,” he stuttered. “Like the gentlemen did in the salon.”
Penelope nodded, and his hands dropped to the fall of his breeches, hurrying with the buttons.
“You – you did not wish to join the gentlemen earlier?” she asked, curious.
He paused with his fumbling fingers, a frown on his face. “No, I – I did not.”
“That’s alright.” She flopped back against the pillows and gazed up at him. “Is there any way I might assist?” she asked as he pulled out his cock. She could not help coo at the sight of it, excitement flittering through her, for it was weighty and thick, bobbing free of his breeches and weeping so prettily for her.
“Look at you,” she breathed, swallowing around her excitement. “So lovely and large.”
His cheeks turned almost as red as his cock then and he began to tug on it, his fist moving quickly. Penelope settled herself back, getting comfortable, and she wondered if she would ever grow tired of the sight of a man stroking his prick over her naked body.
OR: Harlot Pen gets a new customer
Bookmarked by KitschDKMV
21 Feb 2026
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“No.”
The word spins from her lips before she can stop it, and when it is out the world seems to tilt upon its access, everything built anew around her. For she realises then that this is what she needs – this is the proof – this is his desire for her stamped and torn and bitten into her body where she cannot mistake it for anything else. Here it is: incontrovertible; undeniable. For him to want her like this – to the point of madness, beyond reason, to the point of such wickedness – a wickedness she would never want in earnest, of course, and a wickedness her sweet, loving husband would never enact upon her.
And yet – this is a game. Both of them have slipped into new skins – him the debauched rake, her the innocent debutante. Wolf and lamb; he bears his teeth, and she shows him her soft belly. Tonight they wear these new clothes; tomorrow they shall shed them, and be Colin and Pen once more.
OR - Penelope wears one of her old yellow dresses
Bookmarked by KitschDKMV
20 Feb 2026
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Colin is a new man, and he might take his pick of the Ton's beauties — so it makes little and less sense that he finds himself at a ball (he forgets whose — forgets nearly everything, in fact), struck dumb by the sight of her.
Penelope Featherington. Standing at the refreshment table with an eclair in hand, her eyes wide as she darts her gaze about to make sure no-one is watching her (not wide enough, apparently, for she does not see him).
Has she always been so… has she always been so? So much, so plump and spilling, so soft all over? Fresh and bright as the cream oozing from the end of her eclair, and he wonders if he pressed his thumb into the swell of her decolletage, how deep would it sink? How would she dimple and spill beneath his touch?
He watches, transfixed, as her pink tongue darts out to wet her plush lips, so rosy and pretty (the same colour as her round blushing cheeks). Watches those little thumb-print dimples appear as her mouth opens and she bites into the eclair, her lashes fluttering at the sweetness. God, to be the chocolate upon her tongue, the soft pillow of the pastry with the cold, clear cream within! Colin's mouth floods with saliva.
Bookmarked by KitschDKMV
20 Feb 2026