Academy's Undercover Professor Novel 353 Novels & Stories

"Or should I say Noah? The perfect little student who can't look me in the eye during class, but here you are fingering yourself like a desperate slut, asking strangers to watch.” My face was on fire. How did he know? The heat in my stomach made me panic. I tried to turn away, but he held me down harder, and his erection pushed against my butt crack through his trousers. It was thick and hard—oh my god, it felt huge. "Professor, please—" "Shut your mouth." Three of his veined fingers pushed into mine, stretching my lips wide.

Red lipstick—subtle, but intentional. Power wasn’t about modesty. Power was about control. She pushed the door open. The low hum of conversation died instantly. Eighty-four upperclass political science students turned toward her in near-unison. The air shifted. It always did. Anticipation. Curiosity. Calculation. GOV430: Political Scandal. Her course. Her name was on it in the registrar’s office—her design, her syllabus, her intellectual property. It was the class that secured her tenure at Bastian College six years ago. The youngest tenured professor in school history. At twenty-nine.

Maya was tiny, but she could body a linebacker if pissed off enough. We walked to the lecture hall. I kept my head down. My heart still felt like it had been wrung out and hung to dry. Inside, people were whispering. Not about the fight. Something else. “Did you hear about the new prof?” “Yeah, I think he’s teaching Trial Advocacy.” “He’s supposed to be fine.” “Girl, I saw a picture. He’s giving... big dick energy.” Maya perked up. “New professor?” She slid into her seat next to me and pulled out her phone. “Hold on, let me check the group chat.”

I’m clad in all black including a mask and a plain baseball hat just in case. You can never be too careful. I hang in the shadows of an alley by his usual spot where some of his friends smoke and drink. It’s behind the philosophy building, one of the older ones on the campus. ‘How do you think they snuck all that in?’ I strike up a conversation with Ezra as we wait. ‘Probably bribed a guard.’ ‘That’s the most obvious answer.’ A groan leaves my throat. ‘Give me some borderline impossible conspiracy theory.’ ‘There is an underground bunker where Professor Sloane makes her own brand of alcohol with her Alchemy skills and deals them to students.’

What could be in such a secret place that would require the intervention of the Alpha Council? I watched cautiously as Professor Albert pulled a set of lock picks from an inside pocket of his cloak. With quick, precise movements that suggested surprising skill for an academic, he manipulated the lock. A faint click echoed in the silence of the night, and the heavy door opened with a mournful creak. The professor slipped inside, disappearing into the darkness. I froze for a moment. Surprise and curiosity struggled to prevail. What secrets did the forbidden wing of the academy hide? And what did Professor Albert have to do with them?

“The way you led your team through impossible odds, the perfect score on the final exam. I believe you’re going to do well here.” Say something intelligent, Daisy. Stop staring at him like a lovesick fool. “I-I hope so,” I mumble. “The academy seems... intense.” “It is,” he agrees. “But you survived the Warrior Competition, so you will survive this place. Just remember—” “Liam Kingston!” We both turn to see a professor striding towards us, his cashmere coat waving in the afternoon breeze. He looks older than Professor Navarro with silver strands threading through his dark hair and a facial expression of perpetual irritation.

"And you will at last be free when you do.” Robert shoved him back. “She’s not yours to corrupt.” Derek only smiled, eyes glittering. “Everyone breaks, Lord Robert. Even your precious Vale.” --- By evening, the academy swam with rumor. Jackson fed it like a master conductor. “Heard the newest?” a student whispered in the corridor. “She burned the professor’s desk to cinders.” “They say she killed her father,” another hissed. “Madness runs in her blood.” Jackson lounged near the dining hall doors, Armani coat thrown over his shoulders like a cape. Coins of loyalty glittered in his hands—free drinks, paid favors, subtle bribes.

Professor Kasnic's face instantly hardened. "What was that?" The academy alarm suddenly echoed across the entire campus. A cold voice amplified by magic rang through every corridor. "Emergency lockdown." "All students remain where you are." "Repeat." "Emergency lockdown." My wolf stood instantly. Danger. Real danger. Professor Kasnic grabbed the journal and pushed it back into my hands. "Hide it." I didn't argue. I tucked it beneath my cloak just as shouting erupted outside the classroom. Heavy footsteps thundered through the hallway. Professor Kasnic moved toward the door.

Academic opportunities could not. “When do we leave?” “One hour. Station.” I packed fast and reached the station with coffee in one hand and my laptop bag on my shoulder. Professor Reed was already there. Dark wool coat, pale shirt, wind-touched hair, leather briefcase. He looked less like an external reviewer and more like a university brochure designed to ruin people’s judgment. His eyes paused on my coffee. “Morning.” “Good morning, Professor Reed.” “We’re off campus today. Daniel is fine.” I pretended not to hear him and looked for my ticket.

Amir let out a soft, sarcastic laugh, taking a step closer to trap her under his sharp gaze: "I'm a content creator, beautiful. I read body language and subtle cues for a living! Spotting the fire between you and your stern, prestigious professor doesn't take a genius. His facial expressions in the lecture hall and his insane jealousy when I sat beside you gave everything away." Leaning in, he smiled with quiet challenge: "Imagine what would happen if the college administration or social media students heard about this very private 'academic discussion' in the department head's office?" Hala’s hands shook, a wave of dizziness washing over her from the shock of his blackmail. But Amir’s expre