Darren's blog

When I first joined Meetfighters, I was honestly excited. The whole idea of finding people who were into fighting sounded great. I’ve always been into real, full-contact fights—where punches land, grappling gets rough, and both guys walk away knowing they were in an actual fight.

Naturally, when setting up my profile and browsing others, I looked for the “NHB” (No Holds Barred) tag. To me, NHB meant exactly that—no holds barred, real fighting, minimal rules, and both guys giving it their all. I thought, “Finally, here’s where I’ll find people who actually get what I’m looking for.”

But yeah… it didn’t exactly turn out that way.

Almost every time I reached out to someone with NHB listed, the conversation started with a bit of hope... and then slowly crashed and burned. I’d bring up striking or mention something like ground and pound, and suddenly the mood would shift. Some would reply with stuff like, “Oh, you mean real punching? I thought NHB was just rough wrestling.” Others would backpedal with things like, “Yeah I’m into NHB but… no face shots, no body shots, no hard slams… actually let’s keep it light.”

There were even times I felt like I had to double-check if we were talking about the same sport at all. Some guys clearly thought NHB just meant “let’s roll around with fewer scripted moves” or “fantasy roughhousing”. Others were mixing it up with pro wrestling vibes, complete with roleplay scenarios that had nothing to do with actual fighting.

At first, I was honestly a bit annoyed. It felt like every time I thought I’d found someone who was into the same thing, it would turn out they were using the label for something completely different. But after a while, I started to get it...

It’s not really anyone’s fault. It’s just that people interpret “NHB” differently on this platform. For some, it’s a fantasy category. For others, it’s just another way of saying “let’s wrestle with no strict rules.” And then there’s people like me, who see it as real fighting—striking and grappling, full contact, no playing around.

Now, whenever I chat with someone, I’ve gotten into the habit of just laying it out early. I explain what I mean by NHB and check if we’re on the same page. It’s saved me a lot of back and forth.

At the end of the day, I still think Meetfighters is a cool space with a lot of variety. People come here for different reasons, and that’s fair. But yeah… if you’re a real fighter like me looking for full-contact, expect to do some filtering… and maybe a bit of explaining along the way.

Just sharing my experience in case anyone else out there’s going through the same thing.

The fire had burned down to glowing coals, but heat still clung to the night…heavy and thick with sweat, breath, and tension.

Liam covered in blood and sweat limps walking away to the riverside to clean himself meanwhile Cole still lays on his back in the dirt, his chest bare and glistening, legs slightly spread thinking about his win while he watches Ethan standing near the campfire striping last of his clothes away and toss it aside. His eyes roamed over Ethan’s body..slightly hairy broad chest, shoulders wide, torso firm, every inch of him coiled and ready. Ethan's 5” girth monster dick swinging as he stands next to Cole.

Ethan didn’t ask permission. He climbed over Cole’s hips, straddling him with slow, deliberate pressure, one hand braced against Cole’s chest.

“You fought hard,” Ethan said, voice a husky rasp. “But winning me doesn’t mean you get to lead. I’m taking control now.”

Cole’s breath hitched. “Then take it.”

Ethan grabbed a fistful of Cole’s hair, yanking his head back to bare his throat. He leaned in, teeth grazing the pulse there, then bit hard enough to leave a mark. Cole gasped, hips jerking, but Ethan pushed him flat with a hand over his chest.

“Don’t move unless I tell you.”

His fingers trailed down Cole’s body..firm and possessive, tracing over nipples, ribs, lower,taking off Cole pants until they wrapped around his dick. He gave one slow stroke, watching Cole shudder beneath him, then let go.

“No touching yourself,” Ethan warned, pulling back. “You only come when I say.”

Cole moaned, already twitching with need, body arching toward Ethan without thinking.Ethan tongues now playing it's part licking every curves of Cole body, from behind the ear to nipples going down to his belly and ending up around his balls and lowering down to Cole’s ass. Cole started to play with his nipple as Ethan using his tongue around his asshole..

Then Ethan slicked himself with spit and leaned in, pressing Cole’s legs wider with his knees. His eyes locked onto Cole’s ; dark, intense, full of hunger. And then, without warning, he thrust his hard thick dick in deep..fast, hard, burying himself to the hilt in one forceful motion. Cole cried out, his back arching off the ground, hands clawing at the dirt. Felt like struck by a thick iron pole.

“Fuckkk…Ethan….”

“You can take it,” Ethan growled, voice thick with lust. “You wanted this.”

He started to move his hips driving forward in sharp, punishing thrusts. Every time Cole gasped or moaned, Ethan went harder, faster, gripping his hips tight enough to bruise.

The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the clearing..wet, raw, unstoppable. Ethan pinned Cole down completely, grinding in deep with each thrust, hitting just the right spot again and again.

Cole’s moans turned into choked whimpers, pleasure crashing through him with each hard snap of Ethan’s hips.

“You feel that?” Ethan growled, lowering his chest until his mouth was at Cole’s ear. “That’s me owning you.”

Cole was panting now, his voice wrecked. “Y-yes..Ethan…fuck..don’t stop….”

Ethan pulled one of Cole’s legs higher over his shoulder and went deeper.

Cole’s eyes rolled back, his body trembling violently. 

“You don’t come until I tell you,” Ethan said again, thrusting hard. “You’re gonna hold it. For me.”

“I can’t….I…”

“You will.” 

Ethan's belly claps together as he thrusting his dick violently.

Ethan reached between them and stroked Cole’s cock once, twice..then stopped. He grinned as Cole nearly sobbed from the denial.

“Please,” Cole begged, voice raw. “I need to come. Ethan…please.”

Ethan leaned down, kissed him hard, messy, tongues colliding and then started pounding into him with everything he had. Each thrust now was rougher, deeper, punishing. Cole’s body shook beneath him, legs locked around his waist, digging in like he couldn’t bear for it to stop.

“Now,” Ethan finally growled.

Cole cum instantly…hard and helpless, crying out Ethan’s name as his whole body seized, his cumshot splashing hot between them.Making Ethan more aggressive.

Ethan didn’t stop. He chased his own cum shot through Cole’s tightening body, grunting as he thrust one last time, deep and final, spilling inside with a low, broken growl.

They collapsed together, bodies tangled, skin slick and hot.

Ethan wrapped his arms around Cole’s waist, still inside him, breathing hard against his shoulder.

“You’re mine,” Ethan said again, quieter this time but firm.

Cole, limp and dazed, smiled through the aftershocks. “I was always yours.”

From the shadows between the trees, Liam watched.

He’d never meant to stay. When he’d limped off, blood on his lip and pride in pieces, he told himself he was done. That he'd let them go. That Ethan could make his choice without him hanging on like some forgotten afterthought.

But when he heard the moans…sharp, raw, unmistakable…he couldn’t stop himself.

Now he stood in the dark, hidden by branches and bitter silence, watching Ethan take Cole beneath the open sky. And he hated how his breath caught. How his fists clenched at his sides. How the heat rising in his chest wasn’t just jealousy…it was hunger.

Cole’s gasps, Ethan’s growl, the slap of skin, the way their bodies moved in perfect, brutal rhythm..Ethan's dick all twisted in Liam’s gut like a blade. He watched Ethan dominate with an intensity Liam had never tasted, and Cole …Cole had never sounded like that with him. Never begged like that. Never shattered like that.

Liam’s jaw clenched, nails digging into bark. His pulse was a drumbeat of need and fury.

It wasn’t just that Ethan had chosen Cole.

It was that Ethan was giving Cole something Liam had wanted..something wild, open, and unfiltered. Ethan had touched pieces of Liam, kissed him, but he’d never been inside Liam like that. Never made him cry out like he was breaking.

And now? Now he couldn’t look away.

As Ethan collapsed over Cole, holding him close, Liam’s breath came rough and uneven. He turned before they could see him, every muscle tight, desire burning like poison in his blood.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

If Ethan thought Cole could satisfy everything he needed, he was wrong.

Liam would make sure of it.

Chapter 1: The Plan
The idea had come up over beers at their usual dive bar. Ethan, at 35, was all rugged charm—his beard dusted with ash from the fire, his deep laugh rumbling through the trees as he leaned back in his chair. "What we need is a real getaway," he suggested, that easy confidence rolling off him. "No phones, no distractions—just us, a tent, and the wilderness."

Liam, 28, was a storm barely contained—muscles coiled under his tight shirt, green eyes sharp with challenge as he smirked. "You sure you can handle roughing it, old man?"

Cole, 26, was quieter, but there was a fire in him too, smoldering beneath his easy smiles as he swirled his drink. "I'm in," he said simply.

And just like that, the trip was set.


Chapter 2: Into the Wild

A week later, they met at the forest entry base—a small ranger station at the edge of Whispering Pines. The air was crisp with the scent of pine and earth, the towering trees casting long shadows as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

Liam tossed his backpack onto the ground with a thud. "Alright, boys. Who's ready to get lost?"

Ethan chuckled, adjusting the straps of his own pack. "Speak for yourself. I've got a compass and a map."

"And I've got common sense," Cole muttered, earning a playful shove from Liam.

They set off down the winding trail, the forest swallowing them whole. The deeper they went, the quieter it became—just the crunch of leaves underfoot, the occasional rustle of wildlife, and the distant rush of water.

After an hour of hiking, they found the perfect spot: a secluded clearing near a riverbank, the ground soft with layers of fallen leaves, the trees forming a natural canopy overhead.

"Home sweet home," Ethan declared, dropping his gear.


Chapter 3: The Fire Begins

The fire crackled between them, its warm glow painting their faces in flickering gold. Dinner had been devoured—Liam's surprisingly edible attempt at campfire chili—and now they lounged around the flames, passing a flask of whiskey between them.

Ethan stretched, the muscles in his arms flexing as he reached overhead. "We're running low on firewood," he remarked, nodding toward the dwindling pile. "I'll grab some more."

Liam's gaze tracked Ethan's movements with undisguised hunger as he stood. "Need help?"

Ethan smirked, shaking his head. "I think I can handle a few branches." His eyes flicked between them before adding, "Don't kill each other while I'm gone."

Then he disappeared into the trees, the shadows swallowing him whole.

The silence he left behind was charged.

The moment Ethan's footsteps faded, the clearing seemed to shrink around them. 

Liam tossed another log onto the fire, sending sparks flying. "So, Cole," he began, voice deceptively light, "you've been awfully quiet tonight. Someone on your mind?"

Cole kept his eyes on the flames. "Just enjoying the peace. Unlike some people, I don't need to fill every silence with noise."

Liam's grin sharpened. "Or maybe you're distracted. By, say... a certain someone's very noticeable absence?"

Cole's fingers tightened around a stick. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit." Liam leaned forward, firelight dancing across his face. "I've seen how you look at Ethan."

Cole's head snapped up. "And I've seen how you 'accidentally' brush against him every chance you get."

Liam chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "At least I'm honest about what I want."

"Honest?" Cole scoffed. "You're as subtle as a bear in a campsite."

Liam's eyes flashed. "Better than pretending you don't want him."

The air crackled between them. Cole stood abruptly, the stick snapping in his hands. "You think you're the only one who can have him?"

Liam rose to his feet, grin turning feral. "I know I am."

Cole's pulse roared. "Prove it."

Liam didn't hesitate. "Bareknuckle. Right here. Winner gets him."

Cole's answer was immediate. "Fine."

Liam stood first, rolling his shoulders as he stepped toward a flat, leaf-strewn patch near the riverbank. Moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face.

"Plenty of space over here," he said, his green eyes glinting with challenge.

Cole rose slowly, following Liam to the open area. The river murmured nearby, its steady rush the only witness as they circled each other. Liam rolled up his sleeves, revealing corded forearms, while Cole shook out his hands, his movements precise.

"Last chance to back out," Liam taunted, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Cole exhaled sharply. "Funny. I was about to say the same to you."


Chapter 4: The Inferno Ignites

The first punch came like lightning—Liam's fist slicing through the air. Cole barely dodged, feeling the wind of it brush his cheek. He countered with a sharp jab to Liam's ribs, making him grunt.

Liam laughed, wiping his mouth. "Not bad."

They circled each other, firelight painting their faces in gold and shadow. Liam feinted left, then swung right. Cole blocked, but the force sent him stumbling back. His shirt caught on a branch, tearing at the collar to reveal smooth, toned skin glistening with sweat.

Liam smirked. "Nice of you to dress for the occasion." With one brutal yank, he ripped his own shirt off, exposing a lightly furred chest.

Cole didn't hesitate—he tore his shirt free, his smooth torso gleaming in the firelight. The sight made Liam's breath catch before Cole charged.

They crashed together like rival stags, fists flying. Liam landed an uppercut that snapped Cole's head back, but Cole retaliated with a knee to Liam's gut. They rolled across the ground, dirt spraying, muscles straining—Liam's coarse chest hair rubbing against Cole's smooth skin.

A vicious roll sent them crashing into the firepit, embers spiraling into the night.


Chapter 5: Ethan's Decree

The crack of knuckles against flesh echoed through the clearing as Ethan pushed through the last line of trees, his arms loaded with firewood. The sight before him made his boots root to the earth.

Liam and Cole were locked in a brutal embrace, their shirts torn open, sweat-slicked chests heaving as they rolled across the dirt. A flash of Cole's smooth torso pressed against Liam's lightly furred chest, their muscles straining as they grappled near the firepit. Embers scattered as they crashed through the edge of the flames, neither willing to yield.

Ethan's breath caught. The firewood tumbled from his arms.

"What the hell—?" ( Ethan voice breaks the moment)

For a heartbeat, he could only stare—at the way Liam's biceps flexed as he pinned Cole down, at the defiant snarl on Cole's normally composed face, at the raw hunger in both their eyes that had nothing to do with fighting. His pulse roared in his ears.

Then understanding crashed over him like a cold river.

They're fighting over me.

The realization sent heat coiling low in his gut. His surprise melted into something darker, more primal.

"Don't stop on my account."

Both men froze beneath the rough timber of Ethan's voice. They turned as one, their bruised faces flushed, lips parted around ragged breaths.

Ethan stepped forward, his earlier shock replaced by a slow, knowing smirk. He drank in the sight of them—Liam's split lip, Cole's mussed hair, the way their bodies still pressed together in their struggle.

"Fighting over me?" His voice dropped an octave as he circled them like a predator. "I'm flattered."

Cole's throat worked as he swallowed hard. Liam's fingers twitched where they gripped Cole's shoulder, but neither moved.

Ethan stopped directly before them, the firelight casting shadows across his face. He reached out, brushing his thumb over Liam's bleeding knuckles, then let his hand trail across Cole's heaving chest.

"Finish it," he commanded, his eyes burning. "Whoever wins... gets me."

The challenge hung in the air like smoke.

For three pounding heartbeats, no one moved. Then—

With twin growls that sent ice through Ethan’s veins, Liam and Cole slammed into each other again, bodies colliding like wild beasts. Liam’s fingers dug into Cole’s thick hair, yanking hard enough to wrench a sharp cry from him. But Cole snarled back, teeth flashing as he bit down hard on Liam’s shoulder, teeth sinking deep enough to sting.

They crashed to the forest floor in a brutal tangle—skin slick with sweat, muscles straining against muscle. Liam’s biceps bulged as he twisted Cole’s arm behind his back, trying to pin him flat. But Cole twisted sharply, his legs whipping up to catch Liam’s ribs with a stinging kick that made the younger man grunt.

Ethan’s heart hammered in his chest. He hadn’t expected this ferocity. Not the way their bodies moved—fast, raw, desperate, like fighting for survival and salvation all at once.

Liam’s hands were fierce, almost violent, digging into Cole’s sides as he tried to hold him down. Cole’s breath came in ragged gasps, but he wasn’t beaten—his dark eyes blazed with defiance as he locked onto Liam’s. Then suddenly, Cole grabbed Liam’s wrist, wrenching it hard until the younger man’s fingers released their grip. Cole spun on his side, driving a knee into Liam’s stomach with savage force.

Liam doubled over with a grunt, but his hands didn’t loosen. He lunged, wrapping an arm around Cole’s neck, pulling him down in a crushing hold. Cole twisted, teeth bared, slashing at Liam’s arm with bruising punches and nails.

Ethan stepped closer, every sense ablaze. The wet smack of skin on skin, the sharp intake of breath, the raw, guttural sounds they made—it all tore at him, a fire rising in his gut. His eyes drank in the way Liam’s torn shirt clung to sweat-slick muscles, how Cole’s chest heaved with exertion, the flush staining their necks and collars.

He crouched beside them, fingers hovering but not yet touching, caught between wanting to intervene and wanting to watch the storm unfold.

Cole managed a sudden shift, twisting out of Liam’s grasp and slamming him onto his back. Liam gasped, but Cole was already on top, fists hammering against Liam’s chest—not to injure, but to prove strength. Liam gritted his teeth, pushing back, nails raking down Cole’s arms as he fought to reclaim control.

They rolled again, each landing bruises and bites, sweat and spit mixing in the cool night air. Ethan’s breath hitched as Liam’s lips brushed against Cole’s jaw in a flash of hunger disguised as a bite. Cole responded by catching Liam’s wrist, holding it tight, eyes dark and smoldering.

The fire between them wasn’t just about winning. It was about claiming—about proving who was worthy of something more than just scraps of attention.

Ethan’s voice came low, thick with surprise and something darker as he finally broke the silence. “Damn. I didn’t think you two had this much fire.”

Both men froze, heads snapping toward him, eyes wide and raw.

Ethan’s grin deepened as he stepped closer, leaning down to trace a bruised line on Liam’s jaw. “If you want to fight over me,” he said, voice a low growl, “then show me what you’re really made of.”

The challenge hung heavy in the air. Then, with a fresh surge of energy, Liam and Cole lunged at each other once more—raw, hungry, relentless—fighting not just for victory, but for Ethan.

And Ethan knew he’d never seen anything like this before.

The Victor.

Cole moved like a predator, his body coiled tight with adrenaline. With a final, brutal twist, he wrenched Liam onto his stomach, pinning him hard into the dirt. Liam snarled, bucking beneath him, but Cole’s grip was iron—his knee pressed between Liam’s shoulder blades, his fingers tangled in sweat-damp hair, forcing his face into the earth.

“Yield,” Cole growled, breath hot against Liam’s ear.

Liam’s muscles trembled with exhaustion, but his voice was pure defiance. “Fuck you.”

Cole smirked, tightening his hold just enough to make Liam hiss. “Not tonight.” He glanced up at Ethan, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph. “Looks like I win.”

Ethan exhaled, slow and deliberate, his gaze flickering between them. “For now.”

Liam twisted under Cole’s grip, teeth bared, but Cole held firm, leaning down to murmur against his skin. “You’re good, pup. But not good enough.”

Liam’s laugh was rough, breathless. “This isn’t over.”

“No,” Cole agreed, finally releasing him and pushing to his feet. “It’s not.”

Ethan watched as Liam rolled onto his back, chest heaving, lips parted as he sucked in air. There was no surrender in his eyes—only the promise of another fight, another night.

And Ethan knew—they knew—this was just the beginning.

Cole wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing dirt and blood. His gaze locked onto Ethan’s, possessive and sharp. “You’re mine tonight.”

Liam’s fingers curled into fists, but he didn’t argue. Not yet.

Because this wasn’t the end.

It was the first strike in a war.


To be Continued...

There’s a certain kind of silence in wrestling—the kind that fills your ears when you’re pinned beneath someone’s weight, gasping for air, wondering how things went wrong so fast.  

I used to live for that silence. The grind of sparring, the thrill of competition, the way my body moved on instinct. But now? Now I’m stuck between who I was and who I’ve become. Between the wrestler/fighter who once dominated rounds and the version of me now—older, heavier, exhausted by life outside the mat.

The question follows me like a shadow: "Do I keep fighting for this? Or do I walk away before it breaks me completely?"

I felt like I'm slowly drifting away.

Wrestling was never just a hobby for me. It was where I felt strong. In control. But then work swallowed my time, my energy faded, and the weight piled on. Missed practices turned into weeks, then months. The mat felt like a distant memory, and the version of me that used to thrive there seemed like a stranger.  

I told myself I’d come back. "Soon." But "soon" never came.  

The match that haunts me. The last time I competed, I was winning.  

At least, in the beginning. My shots were sharp, my sprawls tight. I took the first two rounds with ease, feeding off that old fire. Then, suddenly-nothing. My lungs burned. My arms turned to lead. My opponent locked in a choke, and as the world blurred at the edges, I didn’t just feel him squeezing the air from me ; I felt time itself pressing down.  

"What’s happening to me?"

I used to fight through this. Used to "thrive" in it. But that night, I didn’t scramble. Didn’t rage. I just… let it happen. And when the ref raised his hand, the worst part wasn’t losing. It was realizing I didn’t even recognize myself anymore.  

But here’s the cruel trick: even now, when I watch others wrestle, my heart pounds like it’s trying to escape my chest. My muscles twitch with phantom movements, replaying takedowns I haven’t hit in years. The sparks that won't die. The hunger is still there ; buried under doubt, but "there".  

So why can’t I answer its call?  

Lastly, its about the choice I'm scared to make. Quitting would be the easy way out. No more shame in being slower, softer. No more guilt when I skip the gym. But walking away feels like surrendering a piece of my soul.  

Coming back? That’s harder. It means facing how far I’ve fallen. It means gasping through drills I used to own. It means admitting I might never be who I was, but maybe, just maybe, I could be something new.  

Speaking about a glimmer of hope. Maybe the first step back isn’t a match. It’s just showing up to a match again. One takedown. One sprawl. One moment where the fire flickers back to life. Wrestling taught me resilience, and this? This is just another hold to escape.  

I may not be the wrestler I once was, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a wrestler at all.

I don’t have all the answers yet. But if you’ve ever stood at this crossroads, if you’ve ever felt the mat call to you while your body or life screamed "no"—how did you choose?