Academy Undercover Professor Novel Indo Novels & Stories

please help! I pretended to have a stomach ache and asked Coach Brian to get me to the medics room. I spotted Uncle Rouge wearing a hat and glasses. Is he on an undercover too? “Hello, Mr. Malcolm. I am Mr. Woods. What is your concern?” He then whispered, “I know your concern, so act natural I will take you to our own restroom here.” The relief washed over me. “I have a stomachache.” I fake coughed and he nodded. He then guided me to the restroom. “I brought your things in advance here so rest assured, go have your shower.”

the professor wasted no time and changed his laboratory robe into a more formal garb. The professor lived in the middle of the desert of an undisclosed location which only to his trusted allies knows as one can never be too careful nowadays. As technology gets better so did the tools for death such a laser guns and invisible assassins. The professor felt that his safety must be assured completely leaving no margin of error in his security as he lived underground in a secret bunker for extra guarantee. "I tried but your phone was not online professor. You're an hour behind." Celeste told the professor in a respectful manner.

Professor Runn: Tapping my holo-display, I open the email Headmaster Noah sent, and a video starts playing. "Attention all professors," he starts. In the video, I notice the headmaster is armed with his axe, a sword, and a bow with arrows. "Something is wrong with the academy's shield. They're failing." I turn my head and look out my window. The headmaster is right. The academy's shield flickers on and off, sparking, fizzling, and smoking. A few minutes later, the shield turns off and the academy is exposed.

For once, she promised to devote herself to Buddhism if they'll just leave her the fuck alone. Leaning more towards their voice, she sighed in relief hearing their conversation. "Have you heard the news?" Oh, their favorite subject. Gossip. Sometimes they put gossip girls to shame. And she loved that series. Pity. "About what?" More giggling. So fucking annoying even to a deaf with a malfunctioning ancient aide. "We have a new professor and he is gorgeous as fuck! Can't wait to have in-depth study sesh with him." Seriously, their folks were wasting money.

I am ready. "Are you done with your notes, because I think you are staring at nothing again," Clara says, nudging my arm with a touch that feels like a burn. I look at the paper, then back at the professor. Vance is writing a series of symbols on the board. They aren't standard history notes. They are instructions for a contact point. My blood runs cold, but I force myself to act bored, tapping my pen against the desk in a rhythmic, mindless pattern. I am learning their language, their secrets, and their patterns. I will be the one who decides when this conversation ends.

He turned and caught me staring. His dark eyes darkened further. He stood slowly, towering over the desk, and took the books from my hands. His fingers lingered against mine again, deliberate this time. “That skirt,” he murmured, voice low and rough, sending heat pooling between my thighs, “violates at least three sections of the student dress code, Miss Blake.” My breath hitched. He was so close I could see the faint scar peeking above his collar, the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity burning in his gaze. For a moment, the cold, indifferent professor mask slipped, revealing something hungry underneath.

A school slut would do practically anything to pass. ..... I pushed open the door to his office, feeling nervous. I let my hoodie ride up as I adjusted my stance to show a little skin on my hips. I knew I was a professional when it came to seduction and had gotten almost all the men on campus to fuck me, but this is Professor Brook we're talking about. He's the only professor in the entire academy who hadn't even glanced at me much, even when I was basically parading myself, half-naked for all to see.

"Vane is texting me. My friends from the studio are texting me. Everyone is sending the same link." "It’s just a picture," Caspian said. "It’s not just a picture! It’s us," I said. I clicked the link. It was a website called Aethelgard Truth. The photo was blurry and taken from far away. It showed us at the head table. My head was tilted toward him, and his hand was clearly visible on my leg under the edge of the white cloth. The title in big, red letters said: PROFESSOR’S PET: IS THE ST. CLAIRE GIRL PAYING TUITION WITH MORE THAN JUST SKETCHES?

Vasile not to set anything on fire inside the classroom. Instead, there was a stranger standing beside the board. He looked older than most academy professors. Not fragile-old, but the kind of age that came with sharp cheekbones and silver hair pulled back neatly at the nape of his neck. His robes carried the deep indigo stitching of another academy. Dr. Vasile tapped the edge of the desk once. “Class, today we’re fortunate to host a visiting scholar from the Eastern Academy.” She gestured politely. “Professor Halden will be discussing documented psychological profiles of historical Primes.”

Her parents didn’t spend so much for her to be distracted so she took school work extra seriously. With trembling fingers, Ever knocks her professor’s door and twists the knob after hearing his clear and deep voice “Come in Ever, I’ve been waiting for you” she pushes into his office and comes face to face with her very hot, not so old professor. Today he’s in a white crisp shirt as always with blue suit pants but this time his buttons are opened down to the middle of his chest, showing tones and tones of muscles she’d only ever imagined but never actually seen. And now it was right before her in the flesh.