Muscle Manhwa

"I love it when you say my name, printsessa, how long has it been? Two-" "Three years." I snap unintentionally wishing I could take the words back. A sly grinspreads across his angelic-looking face, "You've been counting." He states in a cocky tone. I place my hands flat on his chest, and I shove him away. "Still a cocky son of a bitch I see." I hiss, hating the way he makes my body burn with fever. Slowly panting through my parted lips, I realise that he is shirtless, his gold skin and sinuous muscle put on full display for my eyes to feast upon. His eyes look darker than I remember, smouldering with carnal intent. The perfect curve of his lips etches with cruelty. He's so hot with lust and anger that it should be a crime. He's sin in human form and he makes me want to be a sinner. "And you're still a stuck-up printsessa holding a grudge." He snarls, throwing his hands in the air --- Today was meant to be one of the happiest days of my life. Today, I was turning twenty-one and everyone whom I love dearly has shown up to celebrate it with me. Including the one man in my life who should be off-limits; forbidden. Things quickly turn sour, the air smells of death, gun powder, and vengeance. CAUSING my heart to still with fear, loss, and panic. When I realise the one man I vowed to hate forever, is the one person I can rely on to keep me safe. I must build a wall around my heart, and pray like fuck, that he doesn't break through it. My name is Zeynep Volkov, and this is my story about survival, deception and a love triangle that no one saw coming.

I thought Christmas had already broken me. Betrayal, loss, and a miscarriage that shattered everything I’d built. So I did the only reckless thing a heart in ruins could do: closed my eyes, jabbed a finger at a map, and bought a ticket to wherever it landed. No plan. No hope. Just a wounded heart running from the wreckage. I wanted quiet. Snow. A place to breathe and heal. I found him instead. A man who feels too wild for this world, all heat and muscle and dark, hungry eyes. He kisses like he’s claiming something. Touches like he’s learning every secret my body holds. His strength borders on impossible. His presence, addictive. He calls me his naughty little Christmas gift. And every time he drags his mouth down my throat, I forget every reason I had to stay guarded. But the deeper I fall, the stranger things become. The room around him feels alive. The night listens when he speaks. His eyes flash with an animal glow that shouldn’t exist, and the sound he makes when he’s holding back, low, guttural, trembling the air between us doesn’t belong to any man. I should run. Ask questions. Save myself. But I’m far too gone. Even willing to be ruined by whatever he is. So I ignore the question whether I’m losing my mind, or whether the fear curling beneath the heat is real. And let him keep unwrapping me like the gift he thinks I am. Because whatever lives inside him…it’s the first thing that’s made me feel alive again.

I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage. She paid my tuition with his father’s money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I’ll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose. Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me. So I moved into the Hunters’ mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell. Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more. I thought graduation meant freedom from him. I was wrong. Now he’s my stepbrother. He hates that I’m here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me. But hate isn’t clean anymore. It’s tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me, the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I’m shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more. He calls me Little Lamb, I call him every name I can think of under my breath. How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT:Strictly 18+ “I can’t…..take it….any…more.mm..you...I.!” She cried out loudly, but not of pain more like an unbearable pleasure, at the same instance, Andre claimed her lips fully into his, going harder and harder. His plan? To make her completely his and to drive crazy as she did to him, it was a sweet revenge that Andre could definitely die for, wave after wave, after wave of undulating pleasure continued to rage and roil through her body but Andre didn’t stop, his fingers continue to graze her sweet spot with every creamy thrust, until she crashed against him with a shuddering release, her teeth biting softly on his ear robe, her soft quivering sounds filling his ear. Gently he rested her back on the car seat, as though it wasn’t enough for him, he opened the door and walked over to the other side and opened Arianna's door. Standing two feet from her, he pulled off his t-shirt out from his head, Arianna was out of breathe watching him, her olive face turned pink with hot pleasure, her legs still widely apart the way he had left it. She noticed a new tattoo on his chest as the lightening shine like a divine touch on his beautiful wet body contouring the abs and every muscle in his torso and slowly her eyes went lower, his wet pant made his arousal obvious, his erection so big and huge that it gave her chills, and her throat sudden dryness. What's worse than realizing that your sweet anonymous lover from a secret dating site,whom you fall Inlove with is actually your spoilt, arrogant,self centered and sadist CEO! Whom you hated so much. But can she be able to tame this monster?