nerdvsquarterback

[nerdvsquarterback]

[MINIFIC] classroom wreckage

I should have walked away.

I really, really should have.

But Ainsley had made the mistake of sighing, all bratty and exasperated, and muttered, "You’re getting soft, Vaughn."

And boom. Now I had him in an empty classroom, bent over some professor’s desk—no idea whose—with his pants shoved down and my cock driving into him, hot slick dripping down my balls every time I bottomed out. He was so fucking wet, I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it—felt like the tightest slip n’ slide to ever exist.

I pulled out just enough to watch it—thumbed him open with both hands, spreading his cheeks wider so I could see the way his hole stretched around me, pink and slick and so fucking wet I could see the mess we were making.

My cock twitched, soaked and shiny, and when I pushed back in, slow and deep, I watched the way his rim clung to me, fluttering around the head like it didn’t want to let me go.

Jesus fucking Christ.

It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I wanted to take a goddamn picture. Hang it on a wall. Put it in a museum labeled “Max Vaughn’s Descent Into Madness: Exhibit A.”

I couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop fucking thinking about it.

"Fuck, sunshine, you’re soaked," I groaned, letting go of one cheek so I could slide my hand down, fingers dragging through the slick mess between us. I thumbed over his stretched rim—wet, twitching, swallowing around me—and couldn’t help the grin that hit my face when he shuddered all over, his whole body clenching.

His face was smashed against the desk, curls all fucked up, and I could barely see more than the top of his head—but I knew he was scowling. Little nerd couldn’t not scowl, even while moaning like he was trying to win an award for it. And sure enough—

"Max. Shut the fuck up," he snapped, all breathless and bitchy like I wasn’t balls-deep inside him.

"Nah, baby," I panted, spreading him open wider. God, his mouth was sharp as hell, but he looked fucking filthy. Needy. "I think you like it. I think you like being stretched open like this. Fucked sloppy."

His face burned red and he opened his mouth to no doubt snarl something back, but that was the same moment I found his prostate. I nailed it on a deep thrust and his entire expression rearranged, mouth dropping slack on a breathlesss sound. 

“You—oh my God, Max—”

Fuck. His hole was sucking me in, gripping my cock like a vice, every squeeze making me want to fuck him harder, deeper, until there wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t know I’d been here.

I was gonna lose it.

"You feel so fucking good," I groaned, draping myself over his back and biting at his neck. "So fucking wet for me, Ains. Fucking leaking all over my dick."

Ainsley trembled, letting out only a whimper. No words. I grinned against his throat, licking a long, slow stripe up to his ear. My hips snapped forward again, and he gasped, his fingers clawing over the desk.

"You’re disgusting," he hissed. I bent lower, dragging my teeth along the curve of his throat, loving the way he tensed and shuddered beneath me.

"Yeah? You sure?" I panted, reaching back between us, thumb rubbing through the slick mess I was making of him. "You’re the one dripping all over my dick right now. Sucking me in like you don’t wanna let me go."

Ainsley let out a sharp, bitten-off sound, something between a moan and a snarl. "Max—" he gasped, head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut.

"That’s right, baby," I murmured, dragging my lips across his jaw and fucking deep. I ground against him, making him feel every inch of me stretching him open, just like how I could feel it—all of it.

Like the way his hole squeezed and fluttered, slick making wet, messy sounds every time I buried myself inside him. He felt so fucking good, so soft and hot.

"Jesus, you’re tight." Hadn’t we just done this before leaving my apartment? I groaned, gritting my teeth and slamming my hips forward. Ainsley whined, squirming.

"You—" He sucked in a breath. "You’re gonna make me—"

"Yeah?" I grinned. His whole body was shuddering, gushing wetter with every thrust. I could feel it. The way he was right there, teetering on the edge and clenching down like a fucking vice, like he needed every last drop of me inside him.

"Come for me, nerd," I panted.

"Fuck you," Ainsley gasped, but then—

He broke.

His whole body seized, his hole spasming, cock spurting between us and painting his own stomach as he threw his head back and sobbed my name. I groaned his name back, burying my face against his shoulder and fucking him through it, feeling every throb and squeeze of his orgasm.

"Fuck, baby," I panted, gripping his hips, slamming deep one last time—

And then—my own orgasm hit me like a fucking truck.

My cock started to jerk within the grip of his tight heat, flooding deep inside him with so much cum, my balls tight and aching. I panted against his skin, my hips grinding slow, milking every last drop inside him, feeling how fucking full he was, how wrecked he looked.

I swayed, boneless and spent, but managed to gather him off the desk, wrapping him up and pulling him close. He responded slowly, sluggishly latching on, his fingers pressing into my skin.

"Goddamn," I muttered, kissing his temple, letting my hands roam over his body, soothing over every tremor.

Ainsley breathed slow, his chest rising and falling, his face flushed and glowing, body a mess of slick and sweat and my cum dripping out of him. I pressed a lazy, satisfied kiss to his cheek, nuzzling into his hair, grinning against his skin.

"So," I murmured, nipping his earlobe, "still think I’m getting soft, sunshine?"

Ainsley slapped my shoulder weakly.

"Get off me, Vaughn."

I probably should’ve let him go.

Like, logically speaking, Ainsley was already late for class, his sweater vest was rumpled, his lips were swollen, and his glare had lost all bite—mostly because he was still dazed from how hard I’d just fucked him.

But logic had never been my strong suit. And, more importantly, Ainsley smelled like me now.

I could smell myself on his skin, under his scent patch, in the sweat clinging to his collar. It was faint, but it was there—the proof that I’d had him, that I’d marked him up from the inside out. That I’d ruined him for the day. 

And maybe that shouldn’t have made my alpha brain purr, but fuck if I wasn’t buzzing with some primal, stupid, possessive thrill at the thought of him walking into class exactly like this—flushed, wrecked, and covered in my scent.

He was mine.

So yeah. I probably should’ve let him go.

Instead, I grabbed him by the collar and kissed him.

Ainsley made a muffled sound of protest, a weak little noise against my lips, but his hands still clutched at my shoulders like I was the only thing keeping him standing. Which—fair, because I probably was.

God, I loved kissing him.

I loved how soft he got, how the tension in his shoulders melted away the second I touched him. I loved the way he sighed into my mouth, his fingers curling tighter against my chest like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to shove me away or pull me closer.

I loved the tiny, desperate noises he tried to bite back but came out anyway, the little shivers that ran down his spine every time I licked into him deeper, the way his thighs were still shaking as I slid my hand down the curve of his waist.

He was always fighting me. But not when I kissed him. When I kissed him, he just… let himself feel it.

So I kept kissing him, slow and deep, cupping the back of his neck, dragging my teeth over his bottom lip. He was so warm, still pliant from being fucked and breathing hard.

Ainsley whimpered into my mouth.

I swallowed it down, growling low and kissing him harder, tilting his head back so I could taste him exactly how I wanted. And yeah—I was already getting hard again because how could I not?

This was Ainsley. My Ainsley.

The nerdiest, grumpiest, most perfect little brat to ever walk the earth. The omega who drove me absolutely insane, the one I wanted more than I’d ever wanted anything.

I pulled back just enough to breathe him in, resting my forehead against his, panting, grinning like a lovesick idiot because that was exactly what I fucking was.

Ainsley blinked up at me, eyes unfocused, cheeks dusted pink. And then, horrified, he shoved at my chest.

“Vaughn, you absolute fucking caveman,” he hissed, scowling as he wiped at his mouth, like he hadn’t just melted into me like warm butter. “I am already late for class, and now I look—” He gestured at himself, frazzled and ruined, voice dripping with betrayal. “Like this.”

I licked my lips, smirking. “I’m sorry, who was the one who was crying ‘harder’ and ‘hurry and make me cum or I’ll fail you’?”

He bristled, cheeks flaring hotter. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“You sure about that?” I shot back, holding his glare.

I wasn’t surprised when he broke first, letting out a furious huff and shoving away from me. He yanked his clothes back into place and spun on his heel to storm off, but I caught his wrist before he could get more than a step away.

“Hey,” I murmured, squeezing gently. “Come back here.” He went stiff all the way to his socks and I just knew he was rolling his eyes not once but twice. Fucking brat. 

“I’m sorry, okay? You know how I get when you wear clothes, babe.”

Ainsley turned on me so fast I almost flinched. His glare could’ve curdled milk. “I hate you.”

He spun like he was about to storm off, but I caught his wrist. He yanked free immediately and I held both hands up, words starting to pour as I pled my case. “No, seriously—just listen for like two seconds. You wanna know the problem? It’s the sweater vest.”

His sigh was so loud I swear it echoed.

“The vest,” I continued solemnly, trying not to laugh at how clearly he was done with my shit. “Sunshine, you wear that thing and I forget my own name. It’s psychological warfare. You look so fucking good—like if a Nobel Prize and a porno had a baby. It does something to me. Up here.”

I tapped my temple. His mouth twitched. Barely. But I saw it.

So naturally—I made it worse.

“I’m serious,” I said. “You walk into a room looking like that and all I can think is, fuck him into another tax bracket.”

“Max,” Ainsley hissed furiously. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

“And the little tie? Babe. The tie is my Roman Empire.”

He flicked me. Hard. Right in the center of my forehead.

“Ow—”

“Die,” he said, voice flat as death. But he didn’t storm off.

I grinned helplessly, fucking buzzing as I reached out to smooth his vest down, fixed his collar, ran my thumbs over his jaw like I was memorizing the shape of him. He swallowed hard, gaze darting between my lips and my eyes, and I almost—almost—kissed him again.

Instead, I let my fingers drift down to his wrist, pressing my lips against the inside of it.

Ainsley sucked in a sharp breath. His pupils dilated.

I grinned against his skin.

“You smell like me now,” I murmured.

He made a small, strangled noise, wrenching his wrist away, scowling like he wanted to throw himself off a cliff. “Goodbye, Vaughn.”

And then he turned and power-walked away like he was fleeing a crime scene. I chuckled, shoving my hands in my pockets, watching him go. I swear I heard him muttering “never happened, never happened, never happened” under his breath.

Yeah. He smelled like me.

And I couldn’t fucking wait to do it again.

[nerdvsquarterback]

Hey, I'm gonna make Ainsley and Max in sims , kinda forgot, what does max look like?

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ omg this sounds like so much fun!!!! max is: - six foot four and like, athletic asf - hazel-brown eyes - suntanned skin bc football - messy dark brown hair - a scar over his left eyebrow - is always grinning/smirking/laughing/being a meathead <- i don't know if this is relevant but including it anyway - big ole dingle <- also not sure if this is relevant but fuck it hahaha i would loooove to see your creations babe~!!!!1

[nerdvsquarterback]

[minific] alt ending to ch38

i just finished writing ch38 yesterday and i wanted to give you guys a lil smth smth, like what if max broke his vow? canonically, he wouldn't (our boy has integrity), but.... what if?

so this is that. enjoy!

Pretty soon, Ainsley was halfway in my lap—hands clutching my shirt, knees hooked on either side of mine, pressed so close I could barely think. And then he moved. Just a tiny shift. His hips dragged forward—like he was chasing the pressure—and I felt it.

I felt how wet he was.

Against my thigh. Soaked.

I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t. My whole body just froze, every nerve lighting up at once. His slick had bled right through, hot and messy, everywhere, and now I could feel it soaking through my sweats like he’d marked me.

My cock throbbed so hard it hurt.

He whimpered, barely a sound, but his hips kept moving like it wasn’t even a decision. Like his body was just doing it. Like he needed it. Slick smeared hot and sweet across my leg and I swear to God, I almost came just from that.

From him using me like that. So instinctive. So desperate. 

And I still didn’t move. Didn’t dare. Just let it happen. Let him rub his leaking, scent-high little body against me and pretended I could survive it.

Jesus fuck.

He was soaked, still grinding and clutching at me like I was the only thing holding him upright. My thigh was slick with it now—hot and wet and so fucking real—and I couldn’t stop shaking from how hard I was.

And then he leaned in, real slow and deliberate, pressing his nose right up to the side of my neck—breathing me in.

My heart stopped.

Because that was when I realized—I wasn’t wearing a scent patch anymore.

I didn’t even remember taking it off. I must’ve done it without thinking? Maybe in the bedroom? Or sometime between the kiss and the kitchen and the way he moaned when I said he tasted like trust. But now it was off. And he was smelling me. Like really smelling me.

His whole body shivered against mine.

Then he murmured it. Barely a sound. Just one word.

“Max.”

Right against my mouth, soft and whimpering, like he was begging and hated himself for it. Like it wasn’t a name anymore—it was a need. He rolled his hips again, slower this time, slick dragging hard over my thigh.

And then his hand grabbed mine and shoved it down. Not subtly. Not like an invitation. He pressed it between his thighs, right up against his crotch, where he was soaked through and hot, and I could feel it: heat and wet and the soft curve of him under my palm. Soaked hole. Soaked for me.

My breath punched out of my lungs.

I couldn’t even think. My body locked up like it was short-circuiting on instinct and pheromones—because it was. Every part of me was screaming take him. Right there. On the couch. On the floor. Hell, on the ceiling if necessary. It didn’t matter. I needed to touch him. I needed to get his clothes off. I needed to taste him.

“Sunshine,” I rasped, barely able to speak. “You’re—fuck, you’re not playing fair.”

But he just blinked at me, all flushed and glowing and evil-pretty, like this was fair. Like he was the victim and I was the one seducing him.

And he didn’t say a word. He just rocked against my hand again.

I knew what he was doing.

I knew it in my bones, in my blood, in the deep, echoing part of my brain that still remembered how to run plays and read defenses—he was baiting me. This wasn’t a meltdown. It wasn’t heat haze or scentbond confusion. This was intentional. Calculated. Cold-blooded omega war tactics.

He was slick all over my thigh, whimpering into my mouth, pressing my hand against his pussy like I was some kind of wind-up toy he just had to activate. And he was gonna look me in the eye after—after I lost control, after I fucked him stupid, after I came with my face buried in his neck—and say:

“I never said I wanted it. You did that all on your own.”

I could already hear it, already see it—his stupid smug smirk, all flushed and glowing and superior, like he’d just defended a paper on how easy it was to make me snap. Like I was his little science project, and this was just another data point to file away under Max Vaughn is pathetically weak when wet omega pussy is involved.

I should’ve walked away.

Should’ve pulled back. Put on my patch. Made a protein shake. Read a fucking ethics article and clung to my GPA vow like a life raft.

But instead, I groaned. Loud and raw. Helpless.

And I yanked his sweatpants down. They dropped off his hips like they had never mattered and there he was—slick and pink under my palm, dripping and swollen. 

Jesus Christ. I almost blacked out.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t gloat. Not yet. Just bit his lip and watched me, that smug little glint already in his eyes. Probably already planning his victory speech.

I was breathing too hard. My hands were shaking. I knew he wanted me to break.

So I did.

I slid two fingers through the mess between his thighs and felt him pulse around nothing. So fucking wet. So hot. He gasped—sharp, needy—and I didn’t even try to stop the sound I made back.

I was already gone.

And so was he.

If I was gonna lose, I was gonna fucking lose spectacularly. On purpose. With my whole chest. Let him smirk. Let him say the line. I’d take it. I’d earn it.

Because this?

This was worth the fallout.

I slid my fingers through his slick again, slower this time, just to feel it. Just to hear the soft, wet sound it made as it coated my skin. He let out a high, stuttering breath like he wanted to stop himself—but couldn’t. His thighs twitched around my wrist. His hips tilted up. Still no words. No commands, only that same unbearable silence, letting me dig my own grave.

I rubbed the pad of my thumb just barely over his sweet spot and watched his whole body seize.

God, he was so sensitive. His thighs jerked and he gritted his teeth, fingers curling into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks. My cock was throbbing, straining against my own sweats like it was trying to get closer without permission.

I didn’t even realize I was lowering him until he was on his back across the couch, legs over my lap, pants gone, flushed all over and wet like he’d been thinking about this all day. Maybe he had. Probably had. He was evil like that.

His eyes fluttered open—just barely.

“Max,” he whispered, real quiet. Real ruined.

I didn’t answer.

I just dropped to my knees.

The scent hit me like a drug. Sweet and slick and omega, all tangled up with mine now that my patch was off, buzzing so loud in my chest it felt like a second heartbeat. I shoved the coffee table back with one hand and pulled his legs over my shoulders, hauling him closer until my face was right up against him, until I could see it—how soaked he was, how pink, how badly he was twitching for attention.

“God, your—fuck, your pussy—I mean, your hole, sorry, whatever, it’s just—Jesus, it’s perfect.”

“Not a pussy, you ape,” Ainsley snapped out, flushed. He was already dripping onto the cushion. Already open for me.

I looked up once, just to check—half-expecting him to say stop, to pull the rug out from under me, to remind me this was all one big bratty trap.

But he didn’t. He just looked down at me with that glassy, blown-out stare and tilted his hips forward like a fucking challenge.

So I dove in.

Tongue flat, mouth open—one long, slow lick through all that slick until he shuddered and moaned like he hated himself for it. I buried my face between his thighs and ate, greedy and reverent and fucking starving for him.

Every time he gasped, I pushed deeper. Every time he rocked against my mouth, I grabbed his hips and held him still so I could keep going. He was already trembling. Already leaking so much slick it dripped down my chin.

He came once—hard—legs shaking, thighs clenched around my ears like a vice. His fingers twisted in my hair, breath broken, back arching. His whole body was pulsing. But I didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. Just kept licking through it like I was trying to memorize the taste of him.

And then I heard it. This soft, choked, whimpering, “Max—”

Not a protest. Not a warning. A plea.

That was it. That was the moment.

My vow? Dead. In the ground. Buried with honors. I think I even groaned against him, because some part of me knew—knew—this was the point of no return. That I was choosing this, choosing him. Choosing to lose.

And I didn’t fucking care.

I dragged him down the cushions, hands rough on his thighs now, kneeling up over the couch as I shoved my sweats off with one hand, cock already leaking and desperate. Slick was smeared everywhere. My fingers, my mouth, the inside of my thighs. The couch. Him. Me.

“Max,” he whispered again, dazed.

I didn’t ask. I just pressed the tip of my cock against his slick, flushed entrance, shuddering from how fucking ready he was.

I paused. One second. Two. And then I pushed in.

Slow. Deep. All the way, until I bottomed out and he gasped under me, his back arching, hands fisting in the cushions. He was tight, wet as hell, clenching around me like he’d been waiting for this longer than I had.

My vow shattered.

It didn’t even matter anymore. I was inside him. I was fucking him. And he was taking it like he’d planned it from the start. I looked down at him, chest heaving, breath catching in my throat—and that was when he did it. That little fucking smirk.

Barely there. Just the edge of it. Just enough to let me know.

“I never said I wanted it,” he whispered, voice all breathless and smug and evil. “You did that all on your own.”

And I swear to God, I came just from hearing it, so hard it felt like punishment.

Like judgment. Like my own body had finally snapped the leash and said you failed, but at least you failed spectacularly. I was barely inside him before I was groaning, teeth grit, cock pulsing helplessly while he clenched around me and moaned like he was soaking it in on purpose.

But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. He’d said the line—he said it, all smug and breathless, that bratty little whisper, and it broke me.

I pulled out just enough to thrust back in—slow at first, still shaking, still overloaded—but the second I felt him flutter around me again, all hot and soaked and full, I snapped. My hands found his hips, mouth dropping to his shoulder, and I started fucking him for real, finding a rhythm that was hard and deep.

Like I had something to prove and he knew it. Like this was a test I was already failing and couldn’t stop taking. My hips slammed into him, and he took every thrust like it was a gift—tilted his head back, lips parted, eyelids fluttering. His legs wrapped around me again, slick sticking to my abs and thighs and balls, coating everything.

I was coated in him.

“God—fuck—Ainsley,” I gasped, rutting harder, driving into him like I could still earn something if I just went deep enough. “You—fuck—you’re gonna kill me.”

He let out a high little laugh. Laughed. Evil omega bastard. On a breath, he muttered, all soft and mocking, “I didn’t ask you to do this.” And he squeezed around me, clamping his walls down like a vice.

I growled fully, the sound rattling chest-deep. Couldn’t help it. There was another orgasm building in me just from the way he gripped me, like his body was trying to wring every drop out of me.

“You wanted it,” I bit out, pushing deeper, forcing his knees higher, “you fucking wanted it—”

“I never said that,” he gasped back, but he was breathless, cock dripping against his stomach, toes curling. “You’re—ugh—so desperate—”

I snapped my hips forward, slamming into him deep and grinding there. He cried out, high and choked, hand flying to his mouth like he didn’t mean to make the sound. His eyes were glassy, body trembling again.

So I did it again.

Over and over. Deep. Brutal. Worshipful. Slick everywhere. The room smelled like us—raw heat and sweat and bond. I didn’t care about grades. I didn’t care about vows. I just needed to fuck him until he couldn’t smirk anymore.

“Say it,” I groaned, biting at his neck. “Say you wanted it.”

“No,” he whispered.

But his legs were shaking, mouth open, his hole taking everything.

I kissed him. Sloppy, deep, claiming his mouth while I rutted into him, grinding through another orgasm, losing track of time, of sound, of everything but the way he cried out for me the second time he came—his body seizing up around my cock, clenching so tight I nearly blacked out.

He didn’t say a word after.

Just smirked like a man who knew he’d won, and I just laid there, still inside him, still panting, body wrecked and brain melting, knowing he was gonna hold this over me for the rest of my life.

Knowing I’d do it all over again. On my own. Every time. And then I woke up. Rock hard, soaked in sweat, and absolutely fucked in the head.

[nerdvsquarterback]

💬 game changer has a FREE patreon!

in between writing, i've been searching for a platform where i can interact more intimately with readers and have everything in one place. it's been exhausting updating a tumblr and a bluesky account following every chapter update, and after struggling with different website options, i've decided that patreon makes the most sense!

while there will be a tip jar for those who would like to give me coffee money (read: writing juice), my content will remain FREE. i do not intend to hide anything behind a paywall ever. i love my readers and value engagement over monetization.

my bluesky will still be the place to find quick updates and shortform nonsense and this tumblr will still be open for anonymous interactions! i will not be going inactive here, because i know that some of you made tumblr accounts specifically to follow me here 💕 however, a lot of content such as author's notes/behind the scenes posts will become exclusive to my patreon (it's honestly just easier to navigate vs tumblr). also! in order to celebrate the patreon launch, i've decided to release a you-choose celebratory minific! the word count will be beefier than my other minifics at 1500 words. there is currently an ongoing poll for readers to vote for their favorite. you can place your vote here! regardless of platform preferences are, a massive thank to you to all my readers and the support you've shown, whether through a story sub/kudos/comment/whatever. i love every single one of you and you all inspire me to keep writing daily 💕

[nerdvsquarterback]

The text messeges fic is killing meeeeee😭😭 "i jst got so scared rn" pleaseeejdjdkskksks. Bless you for taking time out of your day to write it❤️ (also ains not correcting his grammar he's getting more and more used to him hmmmm👀👀👀

OF COURSE it was absolutely my pleasure 💕 i was crying real tears as i wrote it because it was so real HAHAHAHA ALSO yes there is a CLEAR PATTERN of ainsley trying to be harsh with max and caving MULTIPLE TIMES. he's like a sharp cat in a tea cup but max is a cat tamer lmaooooooo

[nerdvsquarterback]

The meme you have linked for the chapter 24 sneak peek is hilarious😭 the sheets are gonna be all the way up and hes gonna be holding onto them for dear life😭😂 One of my fav parts of the fic are the hilarious text mags! Can we get a mini fic on any couple texting👀

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA you absolutely fuckin can i had way too much fun with this

8:14 AM - Calculus Max: yo help me out rq 👀👀👀👀 Ainsley: It is too early for you. Max: rude asf Max: im like learning stuff fr Ainsley: It better be related to Calculus or I’m ignoring you for the rest of the day. Max: it is i swear Max: also im seeing u at 7 remember 😈 Ainsley: What is it. Max: just listen okay Max: so if limits are all about “approaching” smth Max: what if i approached u 😏 Ainsley: … I literally just warned you. Also, that is not how limits work. Max: seems like u just don’t wanna be mathmtcly correct babe 😌 Max: ???? Max: whered u go 👀 9:32 AM - Calculus  Max: yo new problem Max: so my prof said if the derv of position is velocity, then the derv of velocity is acceleration. Ainsley: Derivative*. But yes. Max: so if i take the derv of acceleration does that mean i get speed² 😏 Ainsley: No. The DERIVATIVE**, and you get “jerk,” which measures the rate of change of acceleration. Max: … Max: HAHA WHAT 💀💀💀 Max: JERK?????? Ainsley: Yes, jerk. It is a real term in physics. Max: LMAOOOOOO Max: IM GONNA TELL THE BOYS I CALCULATED MY JERK FUNCTION 💀 Ainsley: Ugh. 11:05 AM - Statistics Max: if theres a 10% chance of smth happening Max: n i try it 10 times, it HAS to happen once Max: right???? Ainsley: No. Probability does not work like that. Each attempt is independent. Max: k but if i asked u out 100 times whats the odds u say yes 😏 Ainsley: Zero, because I would remove myself from the data set. Max: 😒 Max: playing hard to get i c 2:03 PM - Ethics Max: ok so my xthics prof just hit us with the trolley problem right Max: what if the 5 people on the tracks deserve it??????? 🤔 Max: like what if they committed tax fraud Ainsley: That is not how moral philosophy works. Also, stop misspelling Ethics. Your Professor is going to fail you out of spite. Max: 1st off all my xthics prof loves me Max: 2nd ok but what if it was how it worked Ainsley: It is not. Max: ok Max: new plan Max: <voice msg = “what if i jump onto the tracks but push one guy in front of the trolley so it slows down and everyone else is safe????”> Max: hey Max: ains????? Max: ?????????????? 3:47 PM - Ethics Max: <voice msg = “no but for real i can’t stop thinking about it now. WHO BUILT THE TROLLEY TRACKS SO POORLY????????????????”> Ainsley: The tracks are not the point. Max: o hey 😌 Max: nah but like fr fr we gotta talk abt this citys infrastruct Ainsley: Maxwell. Max: like Y is there a lever that lets u just change life or death sitches Max: who tf put that there Max: WHO APPROVED THAT Max: ? Max: ains?????????? Max: STOP LEAVING ME 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 5:15 PM - Biology Max: OK SO jst learned tht humans have trills of cells Max: what if they all decided to leave 😳 Ainsley: … Assuming you mean ‘trillions’, that is not biologically possible. I would say it’s almost the worst thought you’ve ever had, except you’re still thinking. And texting me. Max: 💕 yw baby Max: but fr what if Ainsley: Then you would cease to exist. Max: … Max: i jst got so scared rn. Ainsley: I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not care. Max: 🥺 Max: ok but what if i just held onto them really hard Max: like, my cells Max: rly hard Max: ??????????????????? Max: my cells Max: like i think if i just clenched all my muscles at once myb i could keep them in place????? Max: HEY Max: 😤😒

6:32 PM - Pre-Tutoring Max: hey y do we even have an appdix??????? my txtbook’s sying theyre like… just vibes Ainsley: I hate that I understand what you mean. Max: 😏 so im right? Max: so happy ur bk btw 🥰 Ainsley: Absolutely not. The APPENDIX* is a vestigial organ. It used to help digest plant matter but is now mostly useless. Like you. Stop. Texting. Me. Max: 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 Max: so ur saying i cud remove mine + be MORE evold??????? Ainsley: No. That is not what I said. Nor is it how evolution works. Ainsley: You are regressing rapidly. And I am so tired. Of you. Max: ok but what ELSE can i remove & still be fine 👀 Max: what if i just got rid of my pinky toes????????????????? Ainsley: I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not care what you do with your pinky toes. Or what do you do with anything, for that matter. Leave me alone. Max: ok but hypothicly if i did would i run faster Max: like if i got rid of my pinky toes??? Ainsley: HYPOTHETICALLY, go fuck yourself. Max: BET but maybe u could help 🫦😏? Max: make sure im doing it rite Max: walkin in the library now wya nerd 👀 (Ainsley has already blocked Max, but now he’s getting tormented live and in-person, HAHAHA.)

3:14am BONUS: Max: baby Max: babyyyyyyyy Max: u up 👀 Ainsley: It is 3 in the morning. I am asleep. Max: i cant sleep Max: like Max: do u think pigeons have feelings Ainsley: .... Ainsley: I beg your fucking pardon. Max: like… do they feel love 😭??????? Ainsley: I hate you. Max: like if i was a pigeon & u were a pigeon would we still be in love 🥺 Ainsley: We have literally never been in love. Stop texting me and go to sleep. Max: 😭 NO bc now im stressed about the pigeon divorce rate Max: do pigeons even get divorced Max: ? Max: are u there nerd 🙄 Max: ?????? ains???? 😤 Max: ok im googling it  Max: omfg Max: omfg BABY Max: did u KNOW some birds MATE FOR LIFE??????????? Max: would u still hate me if we were swans 😌 Max: do u hate me fr

[nerdvsquarterback]

I made some fanart of one of my favorite moments in the story, which is when Ainsley scarily grips Max's hand when he shuts the laptop closed. One of his best moments truly. And I wanted to share it.

I just really love this moment of Ainsley. It's so legitimately funny.

🫠😭 .... i'm getting this framed? i want to print this out immediately? i have never received fanart before and i am SOBBING THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER 🫠😭🫠😭🫠😭🫠😭🫠😭🫠😭💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 WHATS INSANE IS I WAS LITERALLY JUST THINKING ABOUT THAT SCENE LIKE JUST NOW like i was thinking about ainsley's self defense classes that he took in high school and how max could find out about them like imagine ainsley putting max in another joint lock and max getting all hot and bothered because he's in love with ainsley now 😈🫠 you are so talented and i love you so much for bestowing this gift on me!!!!!! (i literally WILL frame this somehow) thank you so so so much 💕

[nerdvsquarterback]

🔥 CH23 has been posted 🔥

a lot of readers are calling this the "aftercare" chapter after the filth that transpired in ch21 + ch22 and they are 100% accurate, HAHA. tbh MY legs were shaking after ch21 + ch22 so we definitely needed a cleanse bahaha. luckily max is the most green flag alpha to ever exist (if you know a more green flag one let's fight). now that he's embraced "alpha caretaker mode", he's a proud asf simp. so now we have max in love. and we have ainsley... being ainsley still 🤣 everyone is screaming at me to have him be nice to max in ch24 and i make 0 guarantees besides that his reaction isn't going to be to kill max immediately. the song ref for ch23 is "hanging by a moment" by lifehouse and i encourage you all to go listen if you want to feel the vibes even more (i highly recommend the acoustic version). we are 23/40ish chapters and barreling towards completion! i'm lowkey scared asf because i've never actually completed a fic before 👀 sneak peek of ch24 !!!!! also, ch2, ch5 and ch11 have been updated to reflect theo's character development! you can consider it "bonus" content, as the edits bumped the total fic word count up by 3k 🫠 idk how lmao. francis has also been updated a teeny bit; he's been developed into a french political science/international relations major, so i'll be removing the scene in ch11 where he and ainsley spar in advanced neuropharmocology class (francis was like "mon dieu get me out there" HAHA) previously, theo was just a beta. now he's an argentinian omega who isn't "just" anything and i'm excited to show more of the layers to his and ainsley's friendship in upcoming chapters! i had a reader comment that they wanted to see more of ainsley's life outside tutoring and max, so i plan to fully deliver on that 🌶 i have so many things planned for the side characters and i can't wait to reveal everything to you guys! i posted ch23 this morning and got off work to six comments, which absolutely made my night. thank you all SO MUCH for your support 💕 it inspires me to keep writing every day.

[nerdvsquarterback]

🔥 CH2 + CH5 UPDATE 🔥

i'll be updating ch2 and ch5 to reflect all the character development i've done on theo! he is no longer theo ramos, just a theater beta. he is teodoro adorni, spicy argentinian omega.

i will notify here once this has been finished and i encourage everyone to go back and read 💕 i'll be adding more layers to his and ainsley's friendship as well. they are literally the most unlikely of friends and chaotic asf HAHAHAHA.

[nerdvsquarterback]

Two back to back updates what did we do to deserve this?? Bless you 🥳🥳 (also we love ains for being self aware abt the situation and being like yup I'm too deep in now😭 wonder if he will be ready to admit they are basically dating!!)

💕 you are SO welcome! all i could think in my head was that i couldn't wait to get into the next plot phase of the story <3 he absolutely knows he can't keep up this silly game of push and pull with max... not after being sooo debauched in a house of learning, lmfao max is so convinced that they're on the same page now. he is 100% doing victory laps in his head. meanwhile ainsley is this fox LMAOOOO

[nerdvsquarterback]

🔥 CH211 + CH22 HAVE BEEN POSTED 🔥

so we've spent 20 chapters building up the tension between max and ainsley. ch21 and ch22 were specifically written as the payoff and i can proudly say that i got hot as fuck writing both chapters because nghh 🥵 library sex????? the one place ainsley would normally never?

oh yeah. we went there. also, lap sex?? anal sex?? double penetration? yes, yes, and yes. all of that.

there was a point where i wondered in ch22 if i was taking things too far, but then i realized: this is the payoff. it needs to be so wild and chaotic that ainsley can't wake up tomorrow and brush it off.

max gave ainsley multiple opportunities to walk away and ainsley fully chose max.

i mean, yeah, ainsley was technically scent drunk because max's patch failed, but he still had a choice. i realized two things while writing ch22: 1) ainsley is a fucking brat ("fuck me or i'll find another alpha who will") and 2) ainsley is a classic i-overthink-so-fuck-me-until-i-can't type. he's never really enjoyed sex because he was too focused on trying to control it. but max didn't let him think at all. towards the end of ch22, when max is teasing ainsley's bootyhole, ainsley acts like a complete fucking brat so max will wreck him and put him in the i-can-only-feel space that he's learned he likes. writing this was sooo cathartic because i identify 100% with that part of ainsley hahahaha ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHAT A SWEETIE MAX IS?????? he literally could not stop praising ainsley while he fucking ruined him. rubbing his back, kissing his neck, etc. and this is going to intensify even more in ch23, because max is IN LOVE WITH AINSLEY.

he knows it. he's 100% in love with him. he wants him. and he's gonna have him. i officially put a 40 chapter count on the fic because i'm anticipating that we have 18ish chapters to go before things wrap up! this is subject to change, of course :) as always, thanks to everyone who's reading and commenting, i love it so much 💕 feel free to drop me a line here or on bluesky with any thoughts you have about game changer! hearing from my readers always makes my day 🥹

[nerdvsquarterback]

a Brody and Theo mini fic👀👀👀 #needthat #wanthat

HAHAHAHA SAY LESS i did not know that theo was argentinian before i started writing this minific (hooray for character development). that being said, i totally used google translate to generate the spanish in this minific, so please excuse any errors. i included translations at the end!

🏈🔥 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 🔥🐂  

Ridgeline parties were legendary.

Not in a wow, what a classy event kinda way. More like in a these dumbasses are gonna set something on fire before midnight kinda way. Makes sense ‘cos most students here are idiots with too much money.

Think about it. You get a campus full of rich kids, scholarship athletes, and trust-fund babies, throw in a shitload of tequila, and what do you get?

Fuckin’ craziness.

There was always a fight. Always. Two finance bros throwing punches over a beer pong game, some drunk asshole trying to fight the fridge, some jock getting too cocky and needing to be humbled.

Something always got broken. A window. A TV. An expensive ass table that was never meant to be danced on but was always the first victim of the night. And there was always someone blackout drunk before 11PM—if we rolled up as a pack, you could count on it to be Kyle. 

And the best part?

Nobody gave a fuck.

Some rich kid’s daddy would pay to replace whatever got destroyed. The football team had boosters willing to bail people out. If the cops got called, someone’s lawyer uncle would make it disappear.

Means zero consequences, even dumber decisions, and the kind of parties that made people famous on campus. If you did something stupid enough, people would be talking about it for damn near months.

And tonight was already looking even worse than usual. Loud. Too many bodies. Too much tequila. Too many drunk idiots bumping into each other like it was some kind of goddamn mosh pit.

I was sweaty, tired, and already two beers deep, following Zach through the mess, just tryin’ to get to the goddamn kitchen. Big dogs gotta eat and all that. Except it all went wrong.

One minute, I was shoving some dude waving a beer pong paddle around like a weapon outta my way, then next thing I knew, I felt something crash into my chest, and—

Cold. Wet. Sticky.

I froze. Looked down. Saw red liquid soaking into my hoodie, dripping down my sweatpants, trailing down my fucking thigh. Christ. I looked like I’d pissed myself.

Fucking hell.

“What the fuck—” I snapped, voice already edged with pissed-off aggression, ready to light into some drunk frat bro about how this was my favorite goddamn team hoodie and he was damn well gonna pay for it. Except the frat bro started speaking a lot louder than me, with a lot more aggression. And… gibberish?

"¡Maldito hijo de puta!" The guy threw his hands up, glaring like I was the problem. "¿Tienes mierda en los ojos o qué? ¡Mira por dónde caminas, gran idiota!"

"Excuse me?" I barked, blinking down at him, still processing the fact that the dude who just spilled his drink on me was the one who was madder than a wet hen.

And what the hell was he sayin’? What language was that? French? German? I had no fuckin’ clue. But he was yelling at me. Me. As if I wasn’t a six foot six alpha weighing almost three hundred pounds who flattened people for a living.

He didn’t stop. He kept going, fast as hell and loud. Thank the Lord I hadn’t had any liquor, ‘cos I would’ve gotten dizzy from how fast his hands were moving. Fuckin’ blur. 

“¡Dios mío, qué desastre! ¿Eres estúpido o qué? ¡Mira lo que hiciste, grandullón! Además de eso, estás ahí parado como un idiota. No hay manera de que seas real.”

I just stood there, dumbfounded, squinting at him. I didn’t understand a goddamn word he was spewin’. Then I stopped trying to listen and actually looked at the guy. Got the shock of my life, too—he wasn’t a frat bro.

Nah. He was the farthest thing from it. 

He was tiny. Omega. I knew instantly ‘cos he had a scent patch on his neck and he sure as hell wasn’t an alpha. And even though he was wearing a scent patch, I swore I could smell him. He smelled rich. Real rich. 

And he looked— Goddamn, he was beautiful. 

I’m talkin’ dark hair, messy but perfect, like he meant for it to fall over his forehead like that. Tan skin, gold under the shitty party lights, sharp fucking cheekbones that coulda cut glass. Dark-eyed like a doe and pink-lipped, wearing smudged eyeliner and gloss.

And his outfit, now that I was seeing it, was gonna put me into a stroke. The more I stared at it, the more I could literally feel my brain stop working. A nothing shirt, netted and oversized, hanging off his tiny frame like a ratty blanket. I could see straight to his skin. His stomach. His nipples.

They were as pink as his mouth.

He wore jeans that looked like he’d painted them on, tight and black and ripped at the thighs. His waist was small as fuck. Hell, every bit of him was small. Tiny. The kinda tiny I wondered if I could touch without breaking.

Jesus Christ, he was pretty. Real pretty. And if I knew vibes—which I did—he was the trouble kinda pretty.

And I was standing there, drenched in some fruity-smelling shit, in a sweatshirt and joggers like some kind of fuckin’ scrub. I couldn’t even be mad anymore. I should’ve been—‘cos who the fuck spills their drink on you and starts cussing you out—but instead, my dumbass brain decided to hyperfocus on the guy’s mouth.

I didn’t know what he was sayin’ but I liked how wet that glossy stuff made his lips looked. And so did my dick. A lot. I almost thanked God for my sweatpants, except I realized they were soaked and if I got any harder, everyone was going to get their eye poked out.

Then the guy stopped mid-rant.

And we just—

Locked eyes.

His lips were still parted, like he had more to say. His chest was rising, fast, breathless from all the yelling. I didn’t feel Zach beside me anymore, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. The whole party disappeared.

It was just tequila in the air, drink dripping down my chest, my entire outfit ruined, and this tiny, furious, fuckin’ beautiful omega staring up at me.

He slowly dragged his dark gaze down my front, like he was assessing the damage. He absolutely saw my hard dick. And if the way his lips parted and eyes narrowed meant what I thought it did… he approved.

It was confirmed when he lifted those slitty doe eyes back to mine. And fucking smirked.

Smirked.

I swear to God, I was fuckin’ fried after that. My entire body locked up, every single alpha instinct in my blood losing its goddamn mind. He was looking at me like he wanted to drop to his knees and choke on me.

So I did the only thing that made sense. I ripped my shirt off.

⸻ 🍷 🎭 𝑻𝒆𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒐 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊 🎭 🍷 ⸻  

Let’s be clear: a party is never just a party.

A party is networking. Strategy. Power. The more people you know, the more valuable you are, and the more people owe you favors, the stronger your influence. You never know who you’ll need down the road—a professor’s son, an athlete with school-wide pull, a legacy kid whose family has donated enough to make problems disappear.

These parties? They’re the real social battlegrounds of Ridgeline.

And me? I play to win.

Which is why I was currently standing in front of the hugest man I’d ever seen in my entire life and assessing my next move. After spilling my drink on him and calling him an unreal, disaster of a huge idiot. 

My drink was still dripping down his chest, staining his stupid sweatshirt, but he didn’t look mad anymore. No, he was looking at me like I was a goddamn problem.

And I was. I had just become a huge fucking problem. For him. Not that he knew that… yet.

The second I’d really looked at him, really taken him in—the wide, muscled frame, the cut jawline, the heavy alpha presence, the way his big hands flexed at his sides like he was trying not to touch me—I made a decision.

I was going to ride this man like a goddamn polo pony.

His scent was all over me now. Faint, but there—something thick, deep, warm, like grass and sweat and spice. Even through the scent patch, I could feel the static in the air, the tension crackling between us, my body reacting before my brain could stop it.

And then I looked down and saw it.

Dios mio.

My gaze dragged down shamelessly, lingering right where it shouldn’t, where the half-soaked sweatpants he wore weren’t doing a damn thing to hide what he was working with. 

It was big. Huge. Obscene. The kind of thick, heavy bulge that had no business existing in polite society. It was so obvious, too—hard as fuck, pressed against the soft fabric, straining, pulsing.

I felt my lips part on instinct, my thighs clenching as heat pooled low in my gut. My body wanted. My brain started playing filth on a loop. I wanted that—all of it. I wanted to drop to my knees right here, in the middle of this goddamn party, and find out exactly how much of him I could take before I choked.

I wanted to watch his cock stretch me open, thick and hot, wanted to feel his hands gripping me, his teeth dragging down my throat, his voice low and guttural in my ear.

He looked like he could break me in half.

And I wanted him to.

When I finally looked back up at him, his eyes were locked onto mine, dark, blown, and wrecked as hell. Clocking me clocking him. I knew that look.

He wanted the exact same things I wanted. He was not subtle about it. His fingers twitched at his sides, his breath heavy, nostrils flaring. Every single muscle he had quivered, like a stallion about to buck.

So I swallowed, slow and deliberate. Gave him a little smirk. Ran my tongue over my bottom lip, just to see if he’d track the movement. 

He did.

Got you, big guy. My tongue was loading itself with something sly when he suddenly reached for the back of his hoodie, gripped the fabric in two fists, and yanked it up and over his head in one fluid motion. Whatever I’d been about to say died instantly at the pure mass in front of me.

I had seen big men before, of course. Had been surrounded by alphas my whole life. But this one?

If the hoodie he’d worn hadn’t stated “RIDGELINE WOLFPACK” in bold letters, I would’ve known he was an athlete just by his body. All cut muscle, broad and thick and glistening under the shitty party lights, chest heaving, veins popping in his forearms.

Magnífico. I felt every last one of my hormones activate. I had to actually press my lips together to stop the sound that almost escaped.

I fully expected him to grab me. Haul me up against him. Trot out some cheesy pickup line related to me “owing him” something. I’d given him the perfect opening, after all. But he didn’t.

He extended a fucking hand.

"Brody Wilson," he said, voice rough as hell, jaw clenched like his own name was an afterthought to whatever the hell he was thinking.

I almost laughed. How formal.

Too formal, considering we had just eyefucked each other to hell and back, I was one second away from climbing him like a jungle gym, and this man was introducing himself like we were at a corporate networking event.

I let my gaze drag down to his outstretched palm, then back up to his face, raising a brow like I was considering it. Then I ignored his hand completely, instead turning to the nearest bar table and plucking up two tequila shots.

I held one out to him, tilting my head, letting my lashes drop just a little, smirk curving lazy, indulgent, hungry.

"Here, Brody Wilson."

I watched his eyes flicker, something sharp and dangerous flashing behind them.

Then, to my absolute delight, instead of reaching for the shot I was offering, he grabbed both. Tipped his chin up. Without breaking eye contact, without hesitating for even a single second, he slammed them back.

One. Then the other. Downed them like they were fucking water. Like he was proving a point.

And oh, I liked that. Stupid American alpha jock with an ego and giant dick?

Target acquired, my brain purred. Time to play.  TRANSLATIONS

"¡Maldito hijo de puta! ¿Tienes mierda en los ojos o qué? ¡Mira por dónde caminas, gran idiota!" = "You fucking son of a bitch! Do you have shit in your eyes or what? Watch where you're walking, you big idiot!" “¡Dios mío, qué desastre! ¿Eres estúpido o qué? ¡Mira lo que hiciste, grandullón! Además de eso, estás ahí parado como un idiota. No hay manera de que seas real.” = “My God, what a disaster! Are you stupid or what? Look what you did, big guy! On top of that, you're standing there like an idiot. There’s no way you’re real.”

[nerdvsquarterback]

🐺 CHAPTER 20 has officially been posted 🐺

the theme of "oh i meant to write this this way and actually wrote it this way" has happened again in ch20 HAHAHA honestly i don't even know why i bothered with drafting a plot progression at all with these boys originally, i had a lil angst train planned (i know). statistics kisses => ainsley pulled back => max apologized like a mature human being => super agonizing platonic tutoring session => chaotic ethics tutoring session in which max beat ainsley with meathead logic => SEX/MAX THINKS THEY'RE DATING the payoff was going to be fantastic and i was going to apologize for the angst train with lots of smut and chaos however, ch20 sort of wrote itself (read: the scentbond demanded to be fed / max was feral off gains / ainsley was weak asf) and now, the payoff is coming... well, now. the plot progression is not what it was. we are in new territory now. ainsley has been hardlaunched into a biological catastrophe. what to expect in ch21? smut. mindless smut.

[nerdvsquarterback]

🐺 ch20 live udate 🐺

ch20 should've been up yesterday but between school and work, i did not have the time to devote to the words. should be posting hopefully tonight! ✨ current word count: 3106/5k probably theme song: animals by maroon 5 current status: ainsley is fighting for his life. max is thriving. i am cackling. teaser: "What are the stats on you letting me kiss you?" *smirk smirk*

[nerdvsquarterback]

Mini ficlet of Kyle tormenting beckett perhaps? 🤭

💀 thanks to you ch20 for game changer got pushed to tomorrow because i got so wrapped up in writing this HAHAHAHA. i don't even care because it was so much fun to write!!! i am officially as down bad for kyle and beckett's dynamic (dumbass alpha x rage-filled omega asf) as kyle is for beckett (read: an unhealthy amount) 👅

The Ridgeline campus gym was Beckett Holloway’s kingdom.

He ran it like a war general, with an iron fist, a laminated rule sheet, and a scowl that could bring grown alphas to their knees. I’d never met an omega before like him—the kind that woke up every day and chose violence, probably before even brushing his teeth.

I mean, I’ve met a lot of people who talked a big game—myself included—but Beckett took the whole cake. He was the first person I’d encountered who I genuinely believed could kill me with his bare hands. And yeah, I know I shouldn’t find that attractive. But here’s the thing: I do. A whole fucking lot.

He’s five feet of pure, sexy rage. A tiny-tanky, blond bombshell with blue eyes so cold I swear to God I shiver when he looks at me. Sharp and lethal, like twin icicles designed for stabbing. If looks could kill, I’d be dead seven times over.

His mouth? Don’t even get me started. Pink little thing, soft as hell, but the shit that comes out of it? Pure venom. Deadly. Unholy. Downright sinful. He spits out insults like a PEZ dispenser, rapid-fire, relentless. It’s like he has a fully loaded chamber of "shut the fuck up, Ashford" ready to go.

And every time? It gets me even more. Because I like the way he talks to me.

I like the snap. The snarl. The sheer fucking disgust. The way his lips curl when he says my name, the way he doesn’t hold back, doesn’t soften his voice, doesn’t do the whole sweet, submissive omega thing. I like how fucking mean he is, all sharp-edged and ruthless, like he actually hates my guts.

I’d be happy as fuck if he yelled at me forever. 

So naturally, I’d made it my life’s mission to bother him. Which is why I currently leaned against the campus gym’s front desk, watching him scribble some gym manager bullshit on a clipboard. The rest of the bros were nearby, doing their warmups, but I only had eyes for Beckett. 

"Damn, Becks," I drawled, flashing my best, laziest smirk. "I swear, you get hotter every time I walk in here."

Beckett didn’t even look up from his clipboard. His hair was super neat, like always, dirty-blond slicked back into a ponytail that reached down to the small of his back. I’d never seen it down before, but I already knew he had too much hair for a guy his size. Too much for me not to think about grabbing it. Pulling it.

I leaned closer, trying harder. Look at me. Look at me. “You ever dated a guy who could pay off your student loans just to see you smile?”

At first, I thought he wasn’t going to take the bait. But then he did, huffing out an irritated sigh under his breath and muttering, "You ever dated a guy who could break your nose just to see you shut up?”

No. But I want to. Without thinking, I reached down and tried to touch his ponytail. I didn’t try to full-on grab it—I just wanted to see how soft it would feel, trailing over my knuckles or between my fingers. 

Keyword being tried, because Beckett snapped his head up in the same instant and slapped my hand away, ice-blue eyes threatening violence. I barely had time to recognize danger danger danger before a resistance band came flying out of nowhere. Right at my face.

"Do not touch me, Ashford,” he spat. “And get the fuck away from my desk."

The band smacked me across the cheek. Not hard but hard enough that I straightened up and rubbed my jaw, a little dazed. And more than a little turned on, because Christ, he was feisty.

Any other alpha with half a brain or self-respect probably would’ve turned immediately and admitted defeat, but brains and self-respect didn’t interest me.

Beckett interested me. 

"Damn, Becks," I laughed, ignoring the bros cracking up behind me. "That was crazy. Seriously, what’s your interest rate looking like, though?"

Beckett made an inhuman sound of pure fury. —---—---------------------- * * * ----------------------—---— Knowing Beckett was watching, I decided to up the ante.

So I started doing the worst things imaginable. First, I brought a boombox into the gym and blasted the most iconic hype song of all time: Eye of the Tiger. At full volume. 

Beckett appeared within thirty seconds, looking murderous. He shot me a withering glare, pointing to the boombox. “Turn that shit off. Now.”

“No can do, Becks,” I told him, grinning. “This is my gains jam. It’s like, scientifically proven to increase gains.” “Turn. It. Off. Or I’ll shove it up your ass, Ashford,” he shot back with a scowl.

I didn’t turn it off. I wanted to see if he’d actually shove it up my ass or not.

He didn’t. But he did rip the boombox cord from the wall and throw it out the front door, all with a mean little smirk on his ridiculously pretty face. As if he got a genuine kick out of destroying my personal property.

It made my dick twitch in my pants. Fuck the boombox, I wanted him to destroy me.

The boombox incident only got me his attention for all of five minutes—he went right back to his desk after that—and I wanted more. Immediately.

So I started slamming weights, knowing I was being loud and obnoxious and disrespectful, but not caring. I clocked the way every clang made Beckett twitch violently behind his desk and I grinned to myself, feeling a thrill of awareness kick through me.

All he did was twitch, though. He didn’t storm over again. I abandoned the weights and eyed an empty squat rack. Thinking. Then it came to me.

“Dude, watch this shit. Greatest athletic feat of all time incoming,” I announced to Jake. He was spotting Brody while the guy benched over 400 pounds and only grunted at me, but I didn’t wait to see if he watched. History would be made anyway.

I went over to the squat rack and loaded it with plates because… science, I don’t fucking know. I was honestly just freestyling. Next, I wrapped gym bands around the base and looped them around my waist. Dug my heels in and got low. Then shouted “EASY MONEY” for strength and started sprinting, with the squat rack attached to all six foot two of me. 

The squat rack didn’t move. My feet did. But the gym bands snapped back and I was yeeted backwards so fast and hard, I swore my soul left my body.

I faceplanted immediately onto the gym mat. It took me a moment to realize that the squat rack was tilting dangerously forwards and I cringed, bracing myself to be crushed, only to breathe a sigh of relief when it paused, as if reconsidering—and it decided to come crashing down anyway.

Somehow I didn’t end up crushed, but it made the most unholy noise ever and the gym went completely silent in the aftermath. I lifted my head and groaned, vaguely aware of Brody and Jake staring at me like I’d just committed a murder. Behind them, Zach and Max were pissing themselves laughing.

Then a pair of legs materialized in my line of sight, sheathed in sweatpants but moving with purpose, and I knew that Beckett was marching towards me. I tried to lift my head higher, but my body protested. I’d just eaten complete shit and nothing was working properly; pain was throbbing up my jaw where I’d clipped it on the floor and I was pretty sure I’d bitten my tongue.

So I just laid there on my stomach, imagining a dirty-blond ponytail swishing with barely contained rage, ice-blue eyes narrowed into murderous slits. On me. 

I wasn’t sure of the exact moment when he reached me, but I knew when he planted one foot on my back and pressed down that I was in trouble. The kind I never wanted to leave. I grinned like an idiot. Yeah, babe. Tear me apart. 

“Explain to me what the fuck you were trying to do, Ashford.” His lips brushed my ear and I groaned again, feeling my dick chub up even more.

“Uhh… speed-training?” Beckett applied more pressure. A lot more pressure.

He whispered in my ear, “I swear to God, Ashford, I will end you. You are a menace to this gym and everyone in it. I report you every single day that you come here.”

“God, that’s so fucking hot.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them and I froze, because I was pretty sure I hadn’t meant to say that aloud. But fuck it. Maybe the universe had wanted me to say it aloud. “Tell me more, baby.”

“Listen, Holloway—” Max’s voice. As our somewhat-responsible team captain, he’d clearly sensed the danger I was in and had come over to try and help. I wanted him to go away immediately.

He’d also brought the rest of the bros with him.

Jake piped up, snickering. “Dude. Are you like, turned on right now?” Asshole was trying to chirp me. Except joke was on him, because yeah. Yeah the fuck I was turned on. Way on, so on that I literally could have rubbed off on the gym mat. 

Beckett dug his tiny heel into my back even harder and I made one of the most embarrassing noises of my life. “Fuck,” I panted out. “Harder.”

But then Beckett pulled back, making a disgusted sound. “What in the actual fuck is wrong with you, Ashford? Vaughn, control him, or I swear to God, I will call your fucking coach.”

Then he walked away and I missed him immediately. 

In the end, it was a solid gym day. Got wrecked, got threatened, got turned on. 10/10, would do again.

In fact, I think I’ll come back tomorrow.

[nerdvsquarterback]

lmaoooo what does the group chat look like

the group chat?????? i assume you mean the bro pack group chat haha. answer: fucking chaotic. here's a lil taste:

jake: where is vaughn brody: bro hasnt sent a single gym meme in 24 hrs im scared 😨 kyle: he hasn’t snapped me his breakfast. is he fasting?? zach: bros. he’s probably studying jake: lmaoooo good one kyle: 😭😭😭🤣🤣🤣 brody: i am laughing but also not laughing. where is he.

jake: ok but seriously. what if he got recruited by a secret underground alpha fight club brody: holy shit u think he’s doing bare-knuckle cage matches in a basement rn??? kyle: tbh makes sense. he’s built for it. zach: i literally saw him yesterday he’s fine. jake: “just missing study sessions” my ass. wake up sheeple. brody: if he’s not at the gym he’s either dead or fighting for his life somewhere. kyle: or kidnapped by a cult. jake: brooooo what if he joined a feral alpha wolf pack and now he’s out in the wild trying to challenge the leader for dominance brody: realistic tbbhhh. he could do it. zach: yall need to touch grass kyle: [photo attachment of him eating grass]

kyle: new topic: is beckett single zach: stop trying to rizz the angry omega bro jake: he will murder u and i will not stop him brody: just say ur into violent short kings and move on kyle: dudes listen kyle: i think i could take him zach: u absolutely could not zach: he would end u in under 30 seconds jake: ur funeral bro kyle: nah u don’t get it. he’s small. i’m big. easy win. zach: the last person who said that is still recovering brody: i would pay money to watch him humble u kyle: smh no faith in me

[nerdvsquarterback]

🐺 CHAPTER 19 has officially been posted 🐺

when i first started writing ch19, max was supposed to get a bro advice session about ainsley. except it devolved into a meathead death match with max literally fighting for his life under the barbell.

turns out max isn't emotionally equipped to talk openly about his feelings for ainsley yet with the bro pack. max needs to physically suffer first. he needs to bench his problems. he can’t be vulnerable right now, but he can lift so hard that he ascends to a higher plane of existence.

💀 also, can we fucking talk about kyle and beckett? between max x ainsley, zach x francis, brody x theo, and now kyle x beckett, i have accidentally built an entire interconnected, unhinged, testosterone-fueled, omega-destroying, chaos-laced football dynasty????? oh NO haha

the character development journey has been incredibly real and i'm scared asf excited for what the bro pack's going to do next 😝 when i think of them, i just think of a bunch of feral bros. lovable idiots with gains for brains. that's the entire inspo.

what to expect in ch20: well, ainsley's in for a real fucking treat, that's for sure. max is wired off gains and at his worst (best??).