Mohd Hairey Azhar bin Abdul Rahman, better known as Zoey Rahman, has long been celebrated for his talent and charm on screen. But behind the lens, in the heat of the gym and the intimacy of the locker room, he reveals another side of himself—raw, magnetic, and drenched in sensual energy.
Each frame of him shirtless, muscles flexed under fluorescent light, feels like a private invitation into his world. His smooth chest glistens with a faint sheen of sweat, the veins on his arms tracing a map of masculine strength, while his lips part ever so slightly as though whispering silent temptations.
Zoey’s body is not just trained—it’s sculpted. His torso carries the proud lines of discipline, the ridges of his abs catching shadows as if carved in marble. Standing in front of the mirror, towel slung low on his hips, he looks like a forbidden dream made flesh, a man both aware of his power and generous enough to flaunt it.
There’s a delicious tension in his selfies—half-playful, half-provocative. The way his hand sometimes rests against his waist, or slides just enough into his waistband, is not mere posing; it’s foreplay. Each image teases with the promise of heat, of skin against skin, of the kind of closeness that lingers long after the lights go out.
From the gym floor to the shower’s reflection, Zoey exudes the erotic ease of a man who knows every angle of his body is a weapon. His eyes, framed by those glasses in one shot, turn innocence into seduction. A scholar of lust disguised as a gentleman, his gaze dares you to imagine what happens when the gym door locks behind him.
In another photo, his cap shadows his face, his torso commanding all the attention. The soft curve of his waist melts into the sharp cut of his V-line, each detail begging to be touched, tasted, claimed. Even his casual poses—arms relaxed, lips slightly moist—carry the weight of unspoken hunger.
Zoey Rahman isn’t just showing off his physique. He’s offering a fantasy. His body tells a story: of nights where sweat isn’t from dumbbells but from skin pressed hard against skin, of mornings where desire is still fresh on the tongue. He is both the storm and the calm after, both temptation and satisfaction.
And then there’s the infamous “S-Line” shot—the one marked by playful red streaks above his head. A cheeky nod to a Korean drama trend, it sparks whispers of multiple lovers, of insatiable nights, of a man who never leaves his bed empty. Perhaps it’s just a joke, or perhaps it’s confession disguised as humor. Either way, it leaves us wondering.
Because if the lines are true, Zoey is more than an actor, more than a model—he’s a secret we all ache to unravel. A fantasy that grows bolder with every glance, every flex, every dangerous smirk.
From Besut, Terengganu to the national stage, Zoey Rahman is no longer just Malaysia’s charming son. He is flesh and fire, a body sculpted to seduce, a man who turns every mirror into a lover and every photograph into foreplay.
Yet perhaps what makes Zoey Rahman even more irresistible is his generosity. He bares not just his chest but his confidence, gifting fans the shirtless glimpses they crave. Every photo he shares feels like a secret unwrapped, a piece of intimacy surrendered with a knowing smile—as if he understands the hunger in every gaze and delights in feeding it, slowly, seductively, one frame at a time.