A Professor's Vengeance Novels & Stories

Theo replied, his voice steadier than he felt. Vale turned slowly, and Theo's breath caught. The professor's eyes had darkened to almost black, his expression unreadable but intense. He began walking toward Theo, each step measured and deliberate. "You're playing a dangerous game," Vale said, his voice low and rough. "Testing limits you don't understand." "Maybe I want you to teach me," Theo challenged, his heart pounding. Vale stopped directly in front of Theo's desk, towering over him. He leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Theo, trapping him in his seat. The scent of his cologne, something woodsy and expensive, filled Theo's senses.

"There is no point in pretending your loyalty belongs to the student body when your signature is right here on the extraction authorizations for the upcoming lunar ascension, Professor Vance!" My voice slams against the damp brick walls of the secluded campus greenhouse, ricocheting off glass panes and damp foliage while the older man freezes mid stride beside a massive fern. Professor Vance slowly turns around, his face draining of all color as he realizes the heavy iron doors are bolted shut behind him. I keep my boots planted firmly on the gravel path, my fingers curled into tight fists at my sides while my eyes narrow into lethal slits. I followed him straight from the faculty lounge aft

I assumed both of them were still going to drag on these issues. “You wanted her out. I wanted him out. Thanks for the video and photos anyway but next time you should calm down…” “Oh shut the fuck! You crazy moronfucker.” Professor Vivian lashed out, kicking against the legs of the desk before her, the knife still dangling behind her, though, she released a hand for her gesturing, while the other firmly held the knife. “Don't you fucking talk to me that way!” Professor Liam sprang up and landed a dirty slap across her face that she staggered backward, her loose hands clinging to her face.

“Close the door.” I did. The lock clicked. “Sit.” He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. I stayed standing. “What do you want?” Marcus finally met my eyes. “You’ve been a good earner, Nyx. But your professor friend? He's in trouble. Been sniffing around my books for weeks. Asking questions. Threatening my operation.” I swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He laughed short, ugly. “Sure you don’t. But here’s the deal: you feed me everything he tells you.

I couldn't afford for anyone else to find out about my failure, not until I verified directly from Professor Lorcan. Professor Lorcan Steele, the youngest male professor in the university, also called Professor Untouchable because of his infamous acts in the university, the same professor I have been trying to ace to get back at my cheating ex, Xavier Woods. The plan was to make Professor Untouchable want me, and Xavier could watch his idolized professor fall for the ex he tossed aside—that would burn more. Xavier had spent the night with another girl on our first anniversary while I waited for him like an idiot, prepared a candle lit dinner and even dressed up. He had humiliated me publicly

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Yes… just like that,” I moaned. “Your cock feels so good, Professor. So deep.” He fucked me with devastating patience, each thrust measured and powerful. His hands gripped my hips, holding me exactly where he wanted me. The desk creaked beneath us with every slow, deliberate movement. “Look at you,” he murmured, watching my face. “Taking your professor’s cock like a needy little slut. Is this what you imagined when you planned your revenge?”

"Welcome to English Literature. My name is Professor Alabaster, and for the next semester, you’ll be under my watch." His eyes scanned the room, sharp and authoritative, and when they passed over Belle, she thought she saw the briefest flicker of something, something dark and heated. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the professional, unyielding facade of Professor Alabaster. Belle shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to focus on what he was saying. He moved around the room, talking about the syllabus, the expectations, and the importance of participation. His voice was steady, his words calculated, but underneath it all, Belle felt the tension between them building. Every time

2 XAVIER I thank whatever fucking god that all of these idiots are finally done with this class. I have taught English literature for three years now. Each year has been a different experience for me. The first year was by far the best. I was a new professor. Twenty three years old. I was so excited for my first real year teaching. I was excited to prove to the world that I didn't get the job just because my father is the dean. At the start of my first year of teaching, I was the shiny new toy. All of my students loved me, and seemed to love my teachings.

“I understand that bringing law offenders to justice is important to us. But the only way you can do your job well is when you're healthy.” She took her hand out of his. He did not understand. Although she would never admit it out loud to anyone, this case had always been about more than justice for her. It was a selfish and wicked thing to think about, but Professor Cal was still a revenge tool for her. And she did not at all feel bad about using him because he was not a good person. So the next words Greg said threatened to rock her world. “What if the Professor never did any of those things?”

“Carmen was real but consensual. The colleague was retaliation. The graduate student was completely false.” “According to you,” my mother says coldly. “According to the investigations. According to the evidence.” His voice rises. “I’m not claiming to be innocent. I crossed lines with Carmen, I had a messy affair with a colleague but I’m not a predator. I’m just…” “Human?” my father finishes. “Flawed, weak?” He coughs. “Those are explanations, Professor. Not excuses.” “I know.” “Do you? Because from where I’m lying, it looks like a pattern. Women in your professional orbit. Power dynamics. Complaints following you from city to city.” My father’s eyes are fierce despite his dying body. “And no