How Can Fans Submit Corrections To Nirvana Wiki Entries?

"Keep your hands on the fucking desk." His voice is dark, as he presses my palm against the desk bending me over, his c*ck burying deep inside. "You like that?" he whispers against my ear. I whimper and arch my back further, trying to take him deeper despite the pain. I never thought I'd like this sort of thing, never thought I'd even try it. But here's Harlan, opening me up to a world of pleasure and vulgarity that I didn't even know existed, and fuck, it hurts, but it's so fucking good, I can't imagine stopping. "Yes," I breathe. He slaps me harder. His palm lands against the side of my face with an obscene smack that makes me feel sick and delighted and dirty all at once. I moan as he draws me closer to release. “Yes, what?!” he demands, pulling me up by my hair. “Yes, professor.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Eden Shaw craves more than straight A's... she hungers for the forbidden gaze of her brooding professor, Harlan. What starts as stolen glances ignites into a dangerous game of dominance and desire, where every lecture hides a secret touch and every grade comes with a price. But when Eden uncovers Harlan's hidden past as Ethan Hale, heir to a fractured legacy, their illicit affair is endangered. In a world of powerplays and buried truths, can Eden submit to the man who owns her body... before he claims her heart? Because Harlan's past is not just painful, it's dangerous, and Eden is about to find out that loving him means entering a world she was never supposed to see. A world full of secrets. A name he no longer claims. And a choice that could destroy them both. ~ She wanted to impress him. Now she may have to save him.

I was nineteen the first time Cole Whitfield broke me. Not with cruelty. With a single word. Why. Not did you — why. Like the answer was already settled and he just wanted the story to make sense. I told him the truth anyway. He said nothing that mattered. So I picked up my bag, walked out of his apartment, and decided that a man who trusted a rumor over two years of me wasn’t worth a correction. I spent the next two years becoming someone I actually liked. New city. Graduate program. A published paper with my name on it. I was done with Cole Whitfield in every way a person can be done. Then I walked into Seminar Room 114 and he was sitting right there, gray eyes already on the door, like some part of him knew. I sat down. I opened my notebook. I did not look up. Here’s the thing about studying how people form beliefs: you understand exactly why he believed it. That doesn’t mean you forgive it. That doesn’t mean two years of silence disappear because he’s learned how to look at you like he’s sorry. He wants a conversation. I want my degree. But the campus is small, the seminar table is round, and the boy who broke my heart at nineteen is doing everything right at twenty-one — and I’m starting to understand that composed isn’t the same thing as healed. I hate that I still know the exact sound of his voice.

After I dropped out of school, my parents didn't pressure me to do anything. But Nicole Hicks kept calling nonstop. She was my boyfriend's childhood friend who had established a reputation as a genius. I was too busy helping out in the fields, growing vegetables, and splashing around in the creek, living my best carefree life. Writing code wasn't even on my mind. In my past life, she had turned in a project just one day before I did. Her codes were exactly the same as mine. Everyone called me a fraud and said I had stolen it. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. Later, she even did a livestream, accusing me online of being a school bully. People went wild. They didn't just come for me—they went after my whole family. Some obsessed troll chased my parents in a car, and they died in a crash. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped off a high-rise, my eyes still wide open, refusing to accept the way it all ended. Even in my last moment, I couldn't figure it out. That code was mine. My hard work. So how did she manage to post it before me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back, right before everything fell apart.

My company has dispatched me on a one-week business trip to another city. When the trip is over, I drive home in a hurry just so I can celebrate my mother-in-law, Marianne Jones' birthday with her. But when I'm waiting for the traffic light to turn green, rows of live comments suddenly appear right in front of my eyes. "Do not go home no matter what! If you do, that crime will be pinned on you!" "The moment you step through the front door, Marianne will jump off the building!" "Your fingerprints are all over Marianne's body! When the time comes, you won't be able to defend yourself at all, and you'll end up receiving a death sentence! After your husband receives a hefty insurance payout, he and your best friend, Kathie Wilbury, will live a luxurious and happy life together!" I'm stunned by the information. But a few seconds later, I decide to believe the live comments. In that case, I might as well make a huge gamble. As soon as the green light is on, I start the car and stomp down on the gas pedal. Then, I veer my car toward the concrete barrier on the roadside and crash into it.

Ella Taron met Neil Wilson who is a College Professor that taught her about dating and relationships. She also partnered with him in his solo little club called "Fixing Hearts Request". Ella soon realizes that she has a lot of things to take into her mind especially with friendships and love.

Someone posted a love confession to me on the college's confession wall. But then my roommate's boyfriend left a comment claiming I had slept with every guy on campus. I was furious and ready to call the police. My roommate begged me to forgive her boyfriend, promising she'd make him apologize publicly on the confession wall. But before that apology ever came, an adult video started circulating in the student group chats. Everyone was saying I was the girl in the video. The college summoned me for a meeting and suggested I take a leave of absence. When I went home, my parents refused to acknowledge me as their daughter. I lost everything. Depression consumed me, and with the endless rumors, I finally gave in to despair and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day my name first appeared on the confession wall.