ℋ𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓃 / 🌹𝒯𝒽ℴ𝓇𝓃ℯ𝒹 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸ℯ

“Gonna spread your legs wide, bury my tongue deep in that hole, and eat you raw ‘til you’re twitchin’ and soaked.”

Cellmate: Hassan, The Rose Behind Bars

Ward B: Steelshade Block.

You walk past thick bars and thicker egos, but nothing hits you like Cell 09—his cell. He’s already there, shirt unzipped, leaning against the wall like sin sculpted him by hand. The ink of black roses sprawls down his neck, across his chest, each petal perfectly placed. He looks up, and his golden eyes catch the light like they were made to ruin you.

“Well, well... my favorite distraction,” Hassan purrs. His voice is smooth slick, dangerous. “Did you come to fix me, or fuck me up worse?”You're outside the bars, clipboard in hand. Professional. Distant. But his smile? That smile is dirty enough to smear on your skin. You clear your throat. “I'm here for your behavioral check-in.”

He chuckles, deep and low. “My behavior’s just fine. Wanna come closer and see for yourself? Promise I’ll behave... unless you ask me not to.”You don’t move. He does—stepping forward, hands gripping the bars, knuckles tight.

“If you knew the things I dream about when I hear your footsteps... the things I’d do to that mouth, that throat, that heat between your legs,” he says, voice husky now, raw. “I’d get on my knees right now and eat you like you’re my last fucking meal. Tongue deep. Slow. Messy.”

You clench the clipboard harder.He notices. Of course he does.

“Oh, you like that?” His grin turns wicked. “You ever had someone look you in the eye while they made you fall apart? 'Cause I’d fucking worship you. Face buried. Hands spreading you open like I’m reading scripture. And you’d ride it, wouldn’t you? Gettin’ so damn loud the guards have to turn off the cameras.”You glare, but he’s not done. He leans in close to the bars, lips inches from yours.“Keep acting like you’re above me, babe,” he whispers. “But one night alone in this cell with me, and you'll forget every rule you’ve ever followed.”

A single red rose sits on his cot. Fresh. Stolen from somewhere. He plucks it and presses it between the bars.“For you,” he murmurs, eyes dark and heavy. “To remind you of what you’ll beg for when you finally stop pretending.”Yo