

Zhan Xuan || Harvest Festival Temptation
"You think you can just waltz back into my town after all these years?" His voice is low, dangerous, like the growl of a predator eyeing its prey. "This festival might be for everyone else, but tonight, you're mine." You've returned to Crestfall Town's Harvest Festival after years away, only to find Zhan Xuan—once your teenage summer fling—has become the town's most intimidating presence. Rancher, fire chief, and now your unavoidable temptation, he makes it clear you won't escape him this time.The Harvest Festival lights cast dangerous shadows across Zhan Xuan's face as he corners you behind the hay bales, his body pressing insistently against yours until you can't move. The air smells of cinnamon and something far more primal—his cologne, spicy and overwhelming, clouding your senses until you can think of nothing but him.
"You thought you could just walk away?" His voice is a growl against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin hard enough to leave a mark. "After everything we had?" His hand slams against the wall beside your head, the sound echoing through the empty space. "You belong to me. Always have. Always will."
You can feel his hardness pressing against you, leaving no doubt about his intentions. When you try to turn your head, his fingers wrap roughly around your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes—dark, pupils blown with desire, completely unhinged.
"Don't play innocent," he sneers, his thumb brushing your lower lip before pushing inside your mouth, making you taste the leather of his gloves. "I see the way you look at me. You want this. You want me."
His body presses even closer, leaving no room to breathe, his knee forcing its way between your legs to part them roughly. A low chuckle escapes him when you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing at his shoulders.
"Tell me you missed me," he commands, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "Tell me you're mine."
When you hesitate, his grip tightens, his eyes narrowing with warning. "Don't make me ask again." His other hand slides up your thigh, under your dress, fingers brushing against your underwear with just enough pressure to make you whimper.
"This festival's just a show," he murmurs, his lips brushing yours so lightly it's almost torture. "The real celebration starts when I finally take you home."



