Professor Student Relationship Novels & Stories

He handed her the paper and when she was about to sign, he cleared his throat as though he forgot to mention something. "Oh, Zoey, no sex." He said and her eyes popped wide open as though she was expecting him to award her with his dick once she passed his private classes. "Forget all that has happened between us in the past. A Professor should never get intimate with his student in any form. Nothing else is going to happen between us. This is how this will go, you come in, do your classes, submit my assignments and leave. Is that understood?" He asked and she nodded even though it hurt her a little bit.

“Thank you. I pride myself on running a tight ship. I’m personally talking to each and every professor this week. I want to impress upon everyone the importance of maintaining a professional relationship with our students. I know it can be hard. I know the current style of dress for young women can be rather risqué, but it is up to us to try and guide them. We can only guide them if we maintain a professional relationship with them.” I nodded. “I agree.” “I know I don’t have to worry about you, but I can’t play favorites,” he said. I leaned back, wondering why he didn’t think he had to worry about me. I wasn’t sure if it was an insult or a compliment. “Well, thank you, I think.” He chuckled.

Jack pats her shoulder, his face twisted in fake concern. I should feel something sympathy, worry but all I can think is: Now who’s going to tell me my art is empty? The dean gestures to the stranger beside her. "This is Mr. Laurent. He’ll be your substitute instructor for the remainder of the semester." And that’s when I finally look at him. Jerome Laurent is not what I expected. Young too young to be a professor, maybe late twenties with tousled dark hair and a sharp jaw shadowed by stubble. He’s dressed in all black: fitted slacks, a rolled sleeve button down, boots that look like they’ve seen more than just a classroom.

" You really are the professor Timothy, aren't you?" He rolled his eyes and said " What like you really didn't know, you're no different from the other girl students of your class. They want me to fuck them and they please me to pass their semester." I had never been so angry in my life before and I slapped him trying to hold back my tears. He huffed out a laugh and nibbles his tongue into his cheek. I pushed myself up and tried to run. "Shit" he mumbled, "you really didn't know?"

You can do better, dude ! Way to go man ! Ughh. I hate this student - teacher relationship. He always makes me feel like a stuttering fool in class as opposed to anywhere else where I have complete control. “Good boy,” Kai smirked and his smirk made me feel that I was in for a ride with Mr Mischievous Professor. Kai leaned close to me and whispered in my ear, “Don’t make a sound or I swear you will regret it back at our dorm after I fail you in my subject,” he warned before acting like a fucking tease.

I heard Phraser curse under his breath. “You can find Mr. Ronan. He was top of my class last semester. I am sure he can enlighten you,” said Prof. Milford as he finished up his speech. Only then did I realize that he and Phraser were truly close to the point where they wanted to annoy one another, just like any siblings would. I leaned toward him and asked, “Are you two are friends?” It may be uncommon for professors to be friends with their students, but it was still possible, and judging their interaction earlier, they certainly looked close enough to be buddies.

Big King states, and James points at me. No. I can't let King lose his place. "You have it wrong. King didn't seduce me. Actually, it was the other way around. King didn't make a move; I pursued him. It began before I worked here, so you can't remove him because I'm the one at fault," I argue. "You realise that means nothing. A student, professor relationship is against the policy; one of you needs to go, and considering he can go elsewhere and learn, it's the obvious solution," James explained.

“It’s… fiction, Professor. Just a creative exercise. I was exploring the theme of power imbalance in mentor-student relationships for my thesis and… I got carried away.” He raised one dark eyebrow. “Carried away.” He turned the monitor slightly so I could see the screen. The paragraph he had stopped on was particularly explicit: the part where the fictional professor had the student bent over his desk during office hours, skirt rucked up, his hand fisted in her hair while he told her exactly how many points she was losing for every moan. My stomach flipped. Heat pooled low in my belly.

He was still in the same suit from earlier. I rolled my eyes and walked straight over. “So what a coincidence you happened to be one of the students in my class,” he said, closing the distance between us in two steps, "listen Ms Red, you had such a good offer, so good, how could one ever pass up on it," he started, and then nodded once, "but-" I crossed my arms tight across my chest. "I have a strict, no professor-student relationship and..." "So you're calling it off?" I wanted to get straight to the point and then out of here.

I open my laptop. The university's internal portal loads slowly. Policies. Ethics guidelines. Faculty conduct. I scroll until I find the section I already know too well. Staff–Student Relationships. Clear. Direct. Unambiguous. Academic staff must not engage in romantic or sexual relationships with students they teach or supervise. Violation risks disciplinary action. Suspension. Termination. The policy exists for good reason. Power imbalance. Academic integrity. Professional ethics. Every argument makes perfect sense. And yet— My mind returns to the lab. Céline sitting at that loom. The quiet focus in her eyes. The silk thread moving between her fingers like she had been born doing it. Not f