Broke: Grace's Eridian students torment him with 6 7 because 6 7 is universal brainrot
Woke: Grace's Eridian students slowly start to realize that he flinches every time someone says 6 and 7 in succession and the little bastard that figures it out and spreads the word is the bane of Mr Grace's existence
Ultra-Woke: In order to combat his Eridian students' response to their discovery, he has Rocky as a TA and Rocky gets to chase after anyone who dare start the notes to those numbers
Galaxy Brain: Eridians are ambush predators. Rocky gets overzealous and 67 is like a kill switch sleeper signal for him. Conclusion: having Rocky come after you after you're genuinely trying to answer Mr Grace's math problem makes some poor little Eridian crap their pants
-> synopsis ; sophia finally made her move but only when you’re asleep.
-> tags ; somnophilia. riding. p in v. dub-con.
—
You and Sophia had been friends since freshman year—study buddies turned inseparable after she dragged you into her orbit during that disastrous group project in biology.
She was the loud, confident one who could talk her way out of anything; you were the quieter one who preferred headphones and late-night anime binges. Somehow, it worked.
Tonight was her idea. A sleepover to ‘celebrate surviving finals.’ Her parents were out of town for the weekend, so the house was empty, just the two of you with a stack of junk food, face masks, and a playlist of old pop songs she insisted on singing along to at full volume.
You’d already done the usual routine, watching two episodes of some reality show she was obsessed with, and eating way too many sour gummies.
Now it was past midnight, and you were both in her room, changed into pajamas.
Sophia flopped onto her queen bed in an oversized tee and tiny sleep shorts, patting the spot next to her. “Come on. Bedtime.”
You hesitated by the door, clutching your pillow. “I can take the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”
She rolled her eyes, propping herself up on her elbows. “No way. The couch is lumpy and smells like dog. Plus, my bed’s huge. We’ve shared before.”
You had—once, during a movie marathon when you both passed out on the couch and woke up tangled. But that was accidental. This felt… different.
“I don’t want to crowd you,” you mumbled.
Sophia sat up fully now, giving you that look—the one that said she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “You’re not crowding me. I want you here. With me. In my bed. Stop being weird about it.”
You shifted on your feet, cheeks warming. “I’m not being weird. I just—”
She cut you off by grabbing your wrist and tugging you forward. You stumbled a little, landing on the edge of the mattress. She didn’t let go.
“Get in,” she said, softer this time. “Please?”
You sighed, defeated, and climbed under the covers. The bed was soft, the sheets smelling like her vanilla body wash.
Sophia turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness except for the faint glow of her string lights along the headboard.
She scooted closer immediately, throwing an arm over your waist like it was the most natural thing. “See? Not so bad.”
You laughed quietly, trying to ignore how fast your heart was beating. “You’re a blanket hog.”
“Am not.” She snuggled in tighter, head tucking under your chin, her breath warm against your collarbone. “You’re warm. I like it.”
You swallowed, hyper-aware of every point of contact: her bare legs brushing yours, her hand resting on your stomach under the hem of your shirt, the soft press of her chest against your side.
“Soph…”
“Hmm?” Her voice was sleepy, but you could hear the smile in it.
You hesitated. “This is… nice.”
She hummed in agreement, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. “Told you. Now shh. Sleep.”
The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the AC and the occasional creak of the old floorboards settling.
Moonlight filtered through the half-open blinds, painting pale stripes across Sophia’s bed where you were both tangled in the sheets.
You’d fallen asleep hours ago, exhausted from the sugar crash and too many snacks.
You were on your back, one arm thrown over your head, the other resting on your stomach under the covers. Your breathing was slow and even, completely out of it.
Sophia woke up around 4 a.m., heart already racing before she even opened her eyes.
She’d been dreaming about you—nothing innocent. The kind of dream that left her wet and aching, thighs pressed together even in sleep. She shifted under the blanket, trying to ease the throb between her legs, but it only made it worse.
You were right there. Right next to her.
The girl she’d been crushing on since freshman year. The one who never seemed to notice how Sophia’s eyes lingered a little too long when you changed in the locker room, or how her laugh made Sophia’s stomach flip every time.
Sophia bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.
She shouldn’t.
But you were so close. Your shirt had ridden up, exposing a strip of soft skin above your waistband.
Your shorts were loose, the outline of you visible even in the dim light—thick, heavy, resting against your thigh.
Sophia’s breath hitched.
She’d wanted this for so long.
Wanted to touch you, taste you, feel you inside her. And you were right here, asleep, trusting her completely.
She moved slowly, carefully, not wanting to wake you.
First she just watched you sleep.
The way your chest rose and fell, the way your lips parted slightly. Then her hand slid under the blanket, tentative at first, brushing over your stomach. You didn’t stir.
Emboldened, she traced lower, fingertips slipping under the waistband of your shorts. She paused when she felt the heat of you, the soft skin, then wrapped her hand around your cock—gentle, testing.
You were half-hard already, thickening in her palm as she stroked slow and careful. A bead of precum welled at the tip; she smeared it down your length with her thumb, biting back a whimper at how quickly you hardened fully.
You shifted in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake.
Sophia’s heart pounded so loud she was sure you’d hear it.
She pushed your shorts down just enough to free you completely, then leaned over, breath ghosting over your skin. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the salty bead at the head. You twitched in her hand, a low hum in your throat.
She took you into her mouth slowly—warm, wet, careful not to wake you too suddenly. She sucked gently, tongue swirling around the head, then took you deeper, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed slow and steady.
You moaned softly in your sleep, hips shifting forward just a little, pushing deeper into her mouth. She hummed around you, the vibration making you throb harder.
She worked you with her mouth and hand, slow and wet, spit slicking down your shaft. Every time you twitched or sighed, she paused, waiting to see if you’d wake. You didn’t.
She grew bolder.
She pulled off with a soft pop, climbing over you carefully, straddling your hips. She tugged her own sleep shorts and panties to the side, already soaked from how turned on she was. She lined you up, rubbing the head through her folds, coating you in her wetness.
Then she sank down—slow, inch by inch, biting her lip to keep from moaning too loud.
You were thick, stretching her perfectly. She had to pause halfway, breathing hard, head falling forward as she adjusted. When she finally seated herself fully, she let out a shaky breath, hands braced on your chest.
You were still asleep, but your cock twitched inside her, and your hips rolled up instinctively, pushing deeper.
Sophia whimpered, rocking her hips in slow circles, grinding down to feel every inch. The friction was intense—your cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside her.
She rode you carefully, trying to keep the bed from creaking too much, but the pleasure was building fast.
She leaned down, lips brushing your neck, whispering, “You feel so good… even asleep…”
You moaned in your sleep, hands flexing on the sheets, hips starting to thrust up in shallow, unconscious movements.
That was enough to push her over.
She came with a muffled cry against your shoulder, clenching hard around you, body shaking as waves of pleasure rolled through her.
The feeling must have pulled you closer to the surface—you groaned low, hips jerking up once, twice, and then you came inside her, spilling thick and hot while still asleep..
Sophia stayed seated on you for a long moment after her first orgasm, breathing hard, feeling the slow drip of your cum leaking out around where you were still buried inside her.
You hadn’t woken up—your breathing was still deep and even, face relaxed in sleep, one arm loosely draped over her hip like you were holding her even in dreams.
She should have stopped. She knew she should.
But she wasn’t going to.
She rocked her hips again, slow and careful, grinding down to feel every inch of you still hard and thick inside her.
The overstimulation made her whimper softly, but the pleasure was sharper now, sweeter.
She braced her hands on your chest, nails digging in just a little as she started riding you again—gentle rolls at first, then deeper drops, taking you as far as she could.
You groaned low in your sleep, hips twitching up unconsciously, pushing deeper. Your cock throbbed inside her, still sensitive, still leaking. Sophia bit her lip to keep quiet, eyes fluttering shut as she chased the feeling.
She leaned forward, hair falling around you like a curtain, lips brushing your neck. “so—so good f’ me,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Filling me up… making me come again…”
She sped up a little, hips circling, grinding her clit against your pelvis with every downstroke.
The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet room—her slick mixing with your cum, dripping down your balls and onto the sheets. She clenched around you deliberately, milking you, and you moaned again, low and rough, hips jerking up harder this time.
Your arm tightened around her waist in sleep, pulling her down, and she gasped, the angle shifting so you hit that spot inside her perfectly.
She rode you faster now, chasing her second orgasm, thighs trembling. Her breaths came in short, desperate pants, trying so hard not to wake you but losing the battle.
You stirred—head turning slightly, brows furrowing—but your eyes stayed closed.
Sophia came again with a muffled cry against your shoulder, clenching hard around you, walls fluttering as pleasure crashed through her.
The feeling must have pulled you closer to the edge even in sleep; your hips bucked up once, twice, and you spilled inside her again—another thick load mixing with the first, overflowing until it leaked out messily.
She shuddered through the aftershocks, grinding down slow to draw it out, until you softened slightly inside her.
She stayed on top of you, panting, body limp and sated. She kissed your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—soft, reverent.
Then she carefully climbed off, wincing at the mess between her thighs. She cleaned you both with tissues from the nightstand, gentle so you wouldn’t wake, then curled up against your side, head on your chest.
She traced lazy patterns on your stomach, listening to your heartbeat slow back to normal.
You mumbled something incoherent in your sleep, arm wrapping around her tighter.
Sophia smiled into the dark, pressing one last kiss to your collarbone.
She’d tell you in the morning.
Maybe.
Or maybe she’d just let you wake up still tasting her on your lips, still hard against her thigh, wondering why you felt so good.
Either way, she wasn’t sorry.
Not even a little.
—
a/n ; the two anons… this is for you.
btw, this isn’t vague for me, i could do more than this.
i had no countertop space open so i put a dirty bowl on the floor today and stood up and walked away to my task and then stopped and realized i was a sim. that was the exact chain of thought that sims use. hang on the nasa lady just said six seven on the live mission broadcast
