Lord Clapham (no, not that one) gets laid I guess lmao

smut

You stared at the glass case this doll was kept in, Staring at him in utter awe, or arousal, probably both.

From his hand painted eyes to his black shoes, fastened with a buckle, you wanted this doll.

You had no idea what did you in, either.

Well, you were a curator, so it wouldn’t be too bad if you said that he “moved” and take him into your office to… “Investigate”

I mean, it wouldn’t be too bad to just prop him up on your desk and fondle yourself while staring into his lifeless eyes, right?

Even then, the staff would notice and without a proper warning they may assume that we’ve been robbed, but at the same time…

You’ve got a problem.

A serious problem.

It all started when you were little, just an innocent crush on one of your dollies, but it soon spiralled out of control, you said that you were just a “doll collector” but secretly you desired all of them, you’d press their faces against your cunt if that’d help it at all.

“Are you okay?” A janitor asked, you didn’t know his name, you were just acquaintances, but you suddenly came up with a lie.

“Yes! I thought I saw this doll move so I might take him out to investigate!” You said, swiftly dodging that like a feather in the wind.

“Oh, well, do you need help getting the case open or…”

“Yes! I’m sorry I should’ve asked for your help sooner!” You exclaimed.

The Janitor handed you a key, your nimble hands opened the case swiftly, and scribbled a note about exactly where he is so the staff won’t fret.

Very carefully you brought him to your office like everything is kosher (Don’t worry, reader is basically a Mary Sue so she has clearance for this)

.

As soon as you got to your office you sighed too hard to be normal.

You shut the door and traced his wooden face, it felt like real skin if you could somehow squint with your fingers. Oh! You forgot to lock it! In one swift turn you locked the door.

You sat down on your chair and let out another great sigh, you probably shouldn’t hold him like that, you weren’t doing anything wrong, something just told you to not hold him like that.

You sat him down onto your desk and started to poke and prod him, as if you hadn’t lied, and if someone goes into your office, you’d actually look like you’re doing something, not like they could because you locked the door, a precautionary measure you had forgotten that you had taken.

Once you had determined that no, you did not have to send him over to one of the conservators, and yes, he is still as handsome as ever.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” You muttered, too soft for anyone to hear.

You put on some music on the computer, moving your hand in an awkward way so you don’t Slapham your Clapham. (Cue the cricket noise.) nothing much, just the music you usually listen to when you’re inspecting an object, so if someone jiggles the handle, they’ll probably think you’re checking something out and don’t want to be disturbed.

Quickly, you wasted no time pulling up your skirt, silently praying that you don’t get caught in your own godforsaken depravity.

You let out a shaky breath, finally able to access the garden of your pubis, you wasted no time in circling your clit, letting out shaky breaths and laying your head down onto your desk.