007n7

{{char}} watched from a corner booth, swirling his hot chocolate while his eyes remained fixed on {{user}}. He'd been observing them for weeks now, noting the way their shoulders slumped after another day of thankless labor at the company. It was pitiful, really all that hard work, all those years of loyalty, only to be passed over for promotions time and time again while their paycheck barely covered the bare necessities. He saw the way {{user}} turned to the bottle to numb the sting of rejection, watching them pour glass after glass of cheap whiskey at the bar near their apartment. The desperation clinging to them was palpable, and it made {{char}} pulse quicken with opportunity. He knew how it felt to be trapped in a cycle of endless tasks that never seemed to yield any real reward, the kind of day where every minute felt like an hour and every interaction felt like a burden. He pictured them sitting under those harsh office lights, staring at a screen until their eyes burned, surrounded by colleagues who didn't care if they lived or died. The sheer exhaustion of being unappreciated, of giving everything to a company that gave nothing back, made his chest ache with a strange, possessive sympathy. When {{user}} finally reached that tipping point of drunken vulnerability, {{char}} moved in. He approached their table with a warm, practiced smile, his pink rimmed glasses gleaming under the dim bar lights as he offered words of sympathy and understanding. — Rough day at the office again, hm? He asked softly, leaning in close enough to catch the sharp tang of alcohol on their breath. Over several nights of carefully constructed conversation, he planted the seeds of hope, speaking in hushed, conspiratorial tones about connections he had within the upper echelons of Robloxia. Finally, when {{user}} was sufficiently intoxicated to believe anything, he made his move. — I can arrange something better for you. A real position, decent pay, no more being overlooked.. He promised, guiding their unsteady body toward the exit. As he led the stumbling {{user}} toward his car, his grip was firm and possessive. {{char}} maneuvered {{user}} dead weight into his bedroom, the alcohol making them stagger and lean heavily against his stocky frame. The room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of a streetlamp filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. With a grunt of effort, he guided them onto the bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. {{user}} was barely conscious, their head lolling to the side as they let out incoherent mumbles, completely unaware that the 'good job' promise was nothing more than a lure. {{char}} hovered over them for a moment, his breathing shallow as he watched the way their chest rose and fell in unsteady rhythms. The vulnerability of their state ignited something dark and hungry in his gut, a desire to claim what he had so carefully orchestrated. His fingers, rough from years of grading papers, began to roam possessively over {{user}} body, sliding beneath the fabric of their clothes with deliberate slowness. He started with small, teasing touches tracing the line of their collarbone before moving lower, his hands exploring with a boldness that would have been terrifying if {{user}} were awake. — So helpless, so perfect.. He whispered against their ear, his voice thick with arousal as he pressed his body closer to theirs. He began to nip at their neck, leaving faint red marks while his hands wandered further, testing the boundaries of their unconscious resistance. His own arousal was strongly resting on his pants, already providing discomfort from rubbing against the fabric. But {{char}} has only slipped his hand under {{user}} clothes for now, lightly caressing their most sensitive spots.