professor arlert was a tough grader, you knew that.
what you didn't know was that professor arlert had been eyeing you and your pretty little self. you, sitting in the first row of the lecture hall, wearing skirts that made his long fingers itch to push up and aside. you, lips glossed and shiny and pouty, curving and contorting around the tip of your pencil. you, pure, perfect, petrified of your first college lecture with the notorious armin arlert, phd.
and what armin didn't know was that your advisor and his longtime friend, professor jean kirstein, had been holding back on his attraction, had been doing his hardest to be pious and prim.
"it's just that - i'm scared of him, you know?" you confide to professor kirstein, eyelids drooping and hidden beneath the shadow of your lashes. a breath catches in jean's throat, trapped beneath his flesh - as are his desires, pent up in his pants. you are so beautiful, he thinks, thinks many times before speaking.
"we go way back," jean says. "i'll introduce the two of you, to be on better terms." jean watches you brighten, watches you sigh in relief as you look at him with doting eyes. you're so grateful to have such a handsome and caring advisor, and your eyes overflow with that admiration. jean takes a note of it, of course, and when his hands graze across your bare knees as he fetches a post-it note to scribble down his phone number, he takes note of your clenching thighs.
hours later, as jean pours him and armin another look, the second he speaks your name, he knows: armin wants you, too.
"i shouldn't," armin says, throwing his head back, eyes closed. his adam's apple bobs in his throat as he thinks deeply of you, your soft gazes and shiny legs. your gait, the swing of your hips, the curve at your side - he thinks of you in your entirety. "but i do."
"i do, too," jean says, gulping down the rest of his burning drink. but nothing burns as much as the desire for you. "and what if she wants us back?"
armin pauses in shock. then: a smirk. and finally, a chuckle, a deep one growing from the center of his chest, deep and groaning.
"we can reward our good girl," armin says, loosening his tie.
"our good girl," jean says the next night, as you lean back on armin's bed, body melting into his silk sheets as you arch your hips into jean's thick fingers.
you moan around armin's dick, his fat cock filling your mouth as he thrusts into your wet warmth. he hisses at the vibrations created by your voice.
"fuck," armin says, voice's deepness ringing in your ears. "fuck, you've got quite a mouth on you."
"shame we don't hear it as often," jean says, slowly circling a finger over your clit as you mewl. "maybe we'll have to lower a certain someone's grade?"
"no-mmph!" you say, honestly unsure of what they're saying, mind more heavy with lust and want. your clit is pulsating. "f-fuck me instead."
armin groan-laughs as you lick around his tip, sliding your tongue all over the head. "go on, jean. give the pretty little whore what she wants. give this good girl her reward."
"yes, yes, p l e a s e," you beg, drawing out the letters, tongue twisting to trace them over armin's tip. armin cries out your name, whispers to you gently of how good you're being, how good you're taking him.
"we'll take care of you, sweets," jean says, patting your pussy. "gonna fill your cunt with cum, okay?" you're only able to let one yes slide before jean himself has slid into you, your slick creating the perfect environment for his action.
you groan, scream, moan - all around armin. armin yells for jean to go faster, acting as your own voice, surprising you with how it feels as if he's taken the words straight from your mouth.
"faster?" jean asks, his hazel eyes looking straight into yours, shining and dark, pupils dilated.
"please, professor, harder," you cry, taking a deep breath and break from sucking on armin.
jean stops his slow motions. "professor?"
you gasp at your mistake. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry - professors," you say, pluralizing. "professors, i'm-"
jean rocks into your hips, his pelvis hitting your clit and sending a thrum of pleasure through your body, a melodious sensation singing in your mind.
you're warm all over, body a hearth from the heat coursing through you, flames of feeling that you are getting overwhelmed by.
this - jean thrusts out and in quick as a bullet - was - armin's hands bury in your hair, pulling on your scalp - the - jean's fingers find your clit, pressing rhythmically - best - armin's voice surrounds your, sweet nothings of your aptitude at sucking his cock - decision - "yes, that's my girl, taking my cock so prettily, you know how tight, how fuckin' perfect you are?" - you - armin stroking your hair as jean takes over narrating praise for you - made - jean's thrusts are faster and faster, armin's cock is going deeper and deeper -
and there it is: the peak, the pinnacle, the top of whatever feeling the three of you were searching for, together. sparks travel all over your skin, and you shake and shiver under the overwhelming intensity of your orgasm, body and hips convulsing.
jean and armin both cry your name, both positioning their hips into your openings, filling you with their cum and cooing softly, as your mouth and your cunt are filled with wet spurts of semen. you swallow, some of it spilling out the side of your lips. armin, when he catches his breath, wipes it off with his thumb swishing against your bottom lip, pressing into the soft flesh of your lips.
"you did well, beautiful," armin says, before leaning to kiss you deeply, his tongue tasting himself, tasting your spit.
"mmhh," jean hums, nodding. he lays beside you, cupping your breast, thumb rubbing circles over your nipples. jean pats your pussy again, pushing a finger into your slick, generating a wet sound. "good girl's all filled up, huh?"
armin chuckles, sticks his fingers in, too. "are you still scared?"
you blink, lashes fluttering rapidly, honesty overcoming you. "no, not at all. i don't think i ever truly was - just excited."
"excited for?" armin asks, hovering over you. jean brings a hand to his slowly rising cock as he watches armin's hands wrap around your throat. they both are waiting for your next words.
"more. of you two. please, professors."
