Professor Cal Booktok Novels & Stories

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 quickly opened the school’s forum and began to type. MissCaptainOfAll: I need help ASAP! This is a case that should be handled as an emergency. Does anyone know who the professor handling Data Analytics for year three is? He is somewhat anonymous but I really need to know who he is right now. If you have emails or some type of way to reach him, reply to this post!

Ohio to California was as far away as far away got so, the chances that my one night stand stood in front of me as my Econs lecturer was already the world playing a huge joke on me. If at all fate had made us cross paths, it shouldn’t have been in an academic environment. He was too young to be a lecturer, least of all a professor. Most lecturers I knew were quite old. I couldn’t take my eyes off him throughout the class even though I didn’t hear a word he spoke. The man who’d taken my first kiss and virginity was no one else but my Econs professor. * I got to my room, still dazed from the morning. My notes were empty and my pens unused.

Leo is downstairs and dressed in his usual leather jacket style, you would think twenty two years old man won’t want anything to do with his fifteen year old self, but he is the Same, just in a harder and taller body. My professor is sitting alone, nursing an Americano. He looks calm and composed, like we didn’t just have a leg shaking make out session on the stairs. Just seeing him got me excited. My body remembering how his hands kneaded my ass with perfection. I shivered again. This time with want. I wonder if I will ever stop wanting him. “I’m ready.” “Finally.” Cecilia groans. I keep my eyes on my professor who sat so still you’d think he was a statue.

“There’s the sassy girl I know. Smartass.” The professor continues and I try to focus, but shit, he’s going to be in this class—right next to me—for the whole semester. DING! He’s going to drive me crazy. He wrote, Where’s that Kama Sutra book? I bet she still has it. Get a copy. I take a deep breath. This is going to be a long semester.

As class began and the professor hobbled in, his snowy hair slicked across a balding head, the room descended into silence. I began to scribble notes, easily keeping up with the slow drone of the professor’s voice. He pulled up slide after slide of financial documents, running through what the tiny columns and the large numbers within meant. Towards the end, Delaney’s head popped up from her phone. Her eyes were wide, pupil’s swallowing the depths of her irises whole. “Oh, this is a good book.” She cooed, cradling her phone. “Goddess, why can’t men fuck like this in real life?”

His shoulders are broad, his dark hair is perfectly messy and his eyes scanned the students once before he spoke. "Professor Harlan, thank you for the warm-up," he said with his deep and smooth voice. "I'm Professor Adrian Knight. I'll be taking over this Literature course for the rest of the semester." Whispers spread across the hall and Juliet stared. He looked too young to be a full professor, maybe early thirties, but his presence filled the room. He set his bag on the desk and turned to the class. "Forbidden love," he continued, picking up right where they left off. "The kind that destroys careers, families, even lives. Why do we keep writing about it? Why do we keep reading it?"

she called out, raising a hand in a friendly wave. The professor slowed his pace, his eyes flicking up from his phone to meet hers. He paused just long enough to acknowledge them both. His gaze lingered on Jackson's cold stare for a brief moment, but it quickly shifted back to Azalea, as if Jackson's glare hadn't fazed him at all. "Ah, Ms. Moore," he said, his voice warm, almost a little too rehearsed. "How are you?" "I'm fine actually. I'm still sorry for yesterday's hiccup. I'm still holding my promise on getting you a cup of coffee."

He was trying to act like he didn't care, but his eyes were full of fire. I reached for my chalkboard. I like the view here, I wrote. Huxley chuckled. "A woman of few words. I like that. But I prefer to hear a lady’s voice. Tell me, is the Professor treating you well? Does he let you leave the house?" I just pointed to the "Junior Fellow" badge on the table. "He’s very protective of his work," Huxley said, looking at Caspian. "Maybe too protective. You know, Blackwood, there are rumors that this isn't a research project at all. People are saying you’re just hiding a scandal."

At ten thirty at night, the tiered lecture hall at Saint Chimera University was still brightly lit. The students were starving and furious, yet not a single one dared to complain. The source of their fear, Professor Sarek, the man destined to become the future king of the werewolves, stood at the front of the room. At that moment, his red eyes were locked onto his phone screen, his expression dark. On the screen was the last message he had received: [I’m sorry. You’re far too aggressive. I’m afraid of you. Please don’t look for me anymore.]