Darren's blog

The Campfire Conquest

Darren
2025-06-15
3
1
0

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...

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Last edited on 2025-06-15 09:10 by Darren; 3 comment(s)
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The Amateur Wrestler’s Dilemma: Do I Still Belong on the Mat?

Darren
2025-06-14
1
5
1

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?

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Last edited on 2025-06-13 18:23 by Darren; 1 comment(s)
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The Art of Erotic Wrestling: Seduction in the Struggle or the Spoils of Victory?

Darren
2025-06-09
8
30
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Navigating the fine line of Trash Talk

Darren
2025-06-07
7
17
0

When it comes to any kind of fight, really—trash talk is almost always part of the game. It’s that electric back-and-forth that gets the adrenaline pumping and sets the stage for what’s about to go down. But here’s the thing: while a little verbal sparring can be exciting, there’s definitely a smart way to do it that keeps things fun and respectful while being a jerk.

Trash Talk keeps the mood alive and can even get in their head a bit. But when it gets too personal, it starts to lose its charm real quick.

While you might feel the urge to go for the jugular, There is a few things to keep in mind such as

No Low Blows: This isn’t just about fighting; it's also about pride. Insulting someone’s family, background, or anything really personal is a no-go. It can escalate things from friendly rivalry to full-on hostility. Or maybe causing people to lose respect on you as a fellow fighter. Don't set yourself too low.

Or perhaps you can keep it classy
as there's a fine line between funny and offensive. When trash talk crosses into mean territory, it can turn the whole vibe sour. Nobody wants to deal with unnecessary drama—humor is your best friend here!

And always respect the fight, Everyone’s out there doing their thing. Respect your opponent's skills, even if you’re trying to throw them off. Acknowledge they’ve got something that got them to this point, even if you’re ready to take them down.

At the end of the day, fights are about proving who’s got the skills on game—not about destroying someone’s self-esteem, showing who got the better trashtalk skills. After it’s all said and done, apologise ( might be hard for people with high ego) but a simple sorry could really do a lot as a way to show respect if you ever felt you crossed the line. Defending your offensive words really doesn't help it in any kind of way.

Trash talk might fire everyone up, but it shouldn’t be the reason for bad blood.So, next time you find yourself gearing up for a showdown, remember to keep it fun, keep it respectful, and know when to throw in the towel on the jabs. There’s plenty of room for a good roast, but always leave some respect in the ring (or street). That way, everyone walks away ready for the next round!

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Last edited on 2025-06-06 18:35 by Darren; 7 comment(s)
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Ryan vs Samuel school rivalry [Finale]

Darren
2025-03-04
1
4
0

Ryan arrived home and immediately parked his motorcycle on the porch. He headed straight to the dining table, opened the rice container, and transferred all the rice to a plate. The plate was piled high with rice—he had emptied the entire container. He devoured five pieces of chicken with great enthusiasm. After finishing the rice, he still felt hungry and opened the fridge to make instant noodles—four packs of fried noodles and four eggs. He cooked them to fill his still-growling stomach. He ate voraciously until his mother noticed and approached him.

**Mom:** "Son, where have you been? Why are you just getting home? And where’s your shirt? Why are you all bruised?" she asked, touching Ryan’s shoulder as he sat eating his noodles. She looked both confused and shocked.

**Ryan:** "Just the usual, Mom. Had some fun," Ryan replied casually.

His mom noticed a foul smell coming from him.

**Mom:** "Go take a shower! You smell terrible, son."

**Ryan:** "Later, Mom. I’m starving right now," he said, still enthusiastically eating his noodles.

**Mom:** "Oh my, what’s wrong with you?"

Ryan ignored his mom and quickly finished his meal. He then hurried to his room, removing his torn uniform pants. In his room, Ryan looked in the mirror and saw the bruises Samuel had left on him.

Ryan spoke to his reflection, flexing his muscles.
"That fight earlier was pretty intense. Damn, it’s the first time my face and body are this bruised. That Samuel is a beast! He hits hard and doesn’t back down. He’s strong, I’ll give him that!" He sniffed his own body.
"I do stink, but the adrenaline from the fight was amazing. Damn it! I have to win next time—no matter what! I’ll set an alarm for 8 PM so I don’t oversleep."

Ryan yawned. He couldn’t fight his drowsiness any longer and fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, at 1:00 PM, Ryan woke up and was shocked when he saw the time.
**Ryan:** "My fight with Samuel! Damn it! How did I oversleep?"

He grabbed his phone and was surprised to see his group chat flooded with messages. Starting Monday, school would be suspended indefinitely due to a sudden pandemic outbreak in the country.
**Ryan:** "What? School’s canceled? Ugh, whatever! I need to find Samuel’s contact."

Ryan searched for Samuel’s number but couldn’t reach him. He then called Mike, a school friend.

**Ryan:** "Mike, do you have Samuel’s contact?"
**Mike:** "Ryan, school’s canceled starting tomorrow. We’re not allowed to leave the house."
**Ryan:** "I don’t care! I need to find Samuel."
**Mike:** "Wait, you two are friends now?"
**Ryan:** "Gross! We had a fight scheduled yesterday, but I overslept. Now there’s this lockdown because of the pandemic!"

The city was in a red zone, requiring a total lockdown.

**Mike:** "You fought Samuel? That’s insane! Let me video call you."
**Ryan:** "Yeah. We went two rounds yesterday!" Ryan answered the video call and showed Mike his bruised body.
**Mike:** "That’s crazy! I wish I could’ve watched! Why didn’t you tell me? It must’ve been epic—muscle vs. muscle, evenly matched!"
**Ryan:** "I’ll let you know when things calm down. But if you have Samuel’s contact, let me know!"
**Mike:** "This is so exciting! I’m pumped!"

The call ended, and Ryan noticed a message from his mom on WhatsApp. She had left last night to join his dad out of town, leaving Ryan alone during the lockdown.

Ryan rushed out of his room to eat. That day, he spent his time working out at home to combat boredom. By nightfall, his phone rang. Someone was video calling him. When he answered, it was Samuel. Both were eager to talk.

**Samuel:** "Hey! Where have you been, you idiot?"
**Ryan:** "Where have *you* been? I tried calling you, but you were unreachable. Did you chicken out?"
**Samuel:** "Don’t talk nonsense! My phone broke during our fight yesterday. I forgot it was in my pocket!"
**Ryan:** "What now? I can’t beat you up!"
**Samuel:** "I didn’t show up last night, idiot! I overslept!"
**Ryan:** "Same here! That’s why I was trying to contact you, but now there’s this damn lockdown!"

Their conversation grew heated.

**Samuel:** "Dude, you stink! I haven’t showered either, and it’s getting worse!"
**Ryan:** "I’m not showering on purpose, you pig! I’m saving it for our fight!"
**Samuel:** "Haha, get ready with your weapons. You won’t make me surrender!" Samuel taunted.
**Ryan:** "Shut up! If it weren’t for the lockdown, I’d come over and finish you!" Ryan clenched his fists.
**Samuel:** "Get those muscles ready! Let’s go heavyweight—you dare?"
**Ryan:** "Who’s scared? This lockdown is our chance to level up!"
**Samuel:** "100 kg!"
**Ryan:** "Deal! 100 kg of pure muscle!"
**Samuel:** "Wait till I hit 100 kg. I’ll destroy you!"
**Ryan:** "Keep talking! We’ll see who gets destroyed!"

They ended the call in frustration. Ryan muttered to himself, "Just wait, Samuel. You’ll be done by the third round!"

Ryan was highly motivated. During the pandemic, he trained relentlessly. He ordered all his supplies online. The lockdown forced everyone to stay home, so Ryan spent his days alone, working on himself.

Days turned into weeks, and Ryan’s body underwent a significant transformation. He grew more confident and stronger. His muscles bulged, and at 18 years old, he weighed 100 kg. The pandemic had lasted five months, and during that time, Ryan rarely cleaned himself. His hair and beard grew wild, and none of his clothes fit anymore, so he stopped wearing shirts. His house was a mess, with protein drink containers and food wrappers scattered everywhere.

One day, Ryan looked in the mirror.
**Ryan:** "100 kg!" he said, flexing his muscles. "I need to clean up my hair and beard." He followed a YouTube tutorial to groom himself.

With a fresh look, Ryan tried on his old clothes, but none fit. Even his school uniform was too small. His body had grown massive and powerful, but he still couldn’t find Samuel’s contact. Samuel hadn’t reached out either.

Eventually, the pandemic ended, and schools reopened. Ryan returned to school, but Samuel wasn’t there. During the pandemic, Samuel’s family had moved to a safer area. Ryan was disappointed but also proud of his transformation.

A year later, Ryan graduated and decided to attend college in another city. He moved into a dorm called Cactus Hub. The dorm was unpopular due to a past murder case, but Ryan chose it because it was close to his campus. He was the only resident, with five empty rooms.

Every day, Ryan used the front yard to work out, setting up heavy equipment. A week later, a new resident moved into the room across from his. Returning from class, Ryan noticed new workout equipment outside the neighbor’s room.

**Ryan:** "Not bad. The weights look similar to mine," he muttered, glancing at the neighbor’s room.

One Sunday, loud music blared from the neighbor’s room, waking Ryan. Annoyed, he stormed out, shirtless, and knocked on the door.

**Ryan:** "Hey! Keep it down! You’re disturbing me!"

The neighbor didn’t answer immediately, as he was in the shower. Frustrated, Ryan knocked harder. Finally, the door opened, and Ryan was stunned—it was Samuel! Both stood shirtless, wearing only boxers, staring each other down.

**Ryan:** "Samuel! Finally, you’re right in front of me!"
**Samuel:** "Ryan! This is what I’ve been waiting for!"

Without another word, they lunged at each other. The fight was brutal—punches, kicks, and grapples filled the air. Ryan landed a solid uppercut, sending Samuel stumbling back. Samuel retaliated with a spinning elbow, but Ryan ducked and countered with a devastating body shot.

The fight spilled into the yard, where they used whatever they could find as weapons. Ryan grabbed a metal pipe, but Samuel disarmed him with a swift kick. Samuel then picked up a wooden plank and swung it at Ryan, who blocked it with his forearm, shattering the plank.

Ryan, fueled by adrenaline, tackled Samuel to the ground. They rolled around, each trying to gain the upper hand. Finally, Ryan managed to pin Samuel down, locking him in a schoolboy pin position.

**Ryan:** "Give up, Samuel! It’s over!", while using both of his hand landing punches on Samuel face

Samuel struggled, his face turning red, his face started to smeared with bloods from the fresh cut visible on his cheeks and eyebrows.but he couldn’t break free. Ryan becomes more wild when he sees his fist covered with Samuel blood and goes harder. With a final gasp, Samuel definitely can't take it anymore and knocked out by Ryan with no response.

Ryan noticed it and released him and stood up, breathing heavily. Samuel lay on the ground, unconscious with pretty bloody face. Ryan took a sit next to Samuel body with heavy gasp for air yet grinning as he finally defeated his nemesis. A couple minutes pass by and Samuel regain his consciousness and looked at Ryan.

**Samuel:** "You got me this time, you son of bitch. But this isn’t over."

**Ryan:** "Anytime, anywhere. I know I can beat your ass again"

Ryan helped Samuel to get on his feet and they shook hands, but their rivalry starts burning but with a newfound purpose.

Ryan had finally won, but he knew Samuel would be back for revenge as they have the whole dorm for just themself for the future.

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Last edited on 2025-03-04 10:33 by Darren; 1 comment(s)
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