Professor Venomous Novels & Stories

I chipped away at the golden image everyone saw. But now..now she was slipping through my grasp again. She had the janitor looking at her like she was worth protecting. Like she was the only one worth saving. And worse…the professor. That man. Professor Black. I noticed it. The way his gaze darkened when she entered a room. The way his voice dropped when he spoke her name. That wasn’t a teacher’s look. It wasn’t discipline. It was something primal, something dangerous. Something I wanted for myself.

Then the server came to take our order. Professor Reed barely looked at the menu before ordering the roasted squash tart, black pepper pasta, lemon-butter trout, and blood orange panna cotta. My fingers stopped against my water glass. I had mentioned all of those. Two months ago, when my thesis had nearly driven me insane, I sent my anonymous boyfriend a screenshot of this faculty club’s seasonal menu. If I survive this thesis, I’m coming here for the trout and that blood orange dessert. He replied almost immediately. Noted. When we meet, I’ll take you there.

“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

Professor Mark, who looked relieved to hear Karl's question accompanied by his sincere apology. "Well," Professor Mark leaned forward, took out his folded tablet from his bag and placed it on the coffee table. Everyone in the room also leaned closer to Professor Mark's folding tablet. "As you can see, this is an ancient poison developed by William Schneider. The colour of the poison is cloudy, black, and it requires saliva as a medium to disperse the poison."

His brows furrowed. “Lessie..” But I couldn’t hear his voice right now. I brushed past him, my legs trembling as whispers floated from the hallway. “There’s trouble in paradise,” someone snickered. My fists clenched. I wanted to scream at them, to beat the hell out of one and let the rest learn, but instead I quickened my pace, my ears burning. When I stepped into Literature class, my stomach dropped. Standing at the front of the room, chalk in hand, was Professor Celeste Craven.

Professor Black said, his tone a mix of professional detachment and palpable relief. Honestly, he was speaking in such large scientific terms that it was difficult for me to understand. "Can you explain that more simply?" Lucas questioned, speaking my exact thoughts. Professor Black nodded. "Sorry, I got ahead of myself. What I've formulated here is an antidote that effectively blocks all the bad triggers I mentioned, neutralizing the effects of the toxin." "So, this will fight whatever is inside of me?" I asked. Professor Black smiled. "Precisely. This will kill of the toxic injection."

After a few seconds I heard the Professor's voice booming in class as he resumed his boring talks about the boring lecture in such a boring tone. I hate him. Professor Martin is not like other staffs. he's strict and not so friendly with students who always keep his face up and talk in the air. can't blame him, he must be at least fifty and the age itself allows him to be grumpy and ill-tempered. his thick and square glass will be on his nose all the time. It's been a month of me being in this college and not even for once I saw him smiling. He's hard to impress and to deal with. no one, i repeat no one would dare to stand against him because he exactly feels like some evil character of a mo

“How’s the new professor?” I groaned and rubbed my temples. “Awful so far. Professor Stevens is old, stuffy, and a complete stickler for the rules. Her lectures are long and boring, and I swear she’s trying to kill her students with work.” “That bad, huh?” Tina winced sympathetically as she took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich.

"Thompson, this is… not what it looks like." Professor Thompson laughed, a short, humorless bark. "Oh, I think it's exactly what it looks like, old friend. A student, a couch, and a professor with his cock out. I'm not blind." He took a step into the room, then another, his presence filling the space, making the air crackle with a new, potent energy. "Now, I could, of course, report this. Discretion is important in our profession, wouldn't you agree?" His eyes, however, held no threat, only a devious glint. "Or… you could let me join your 'remedial studies.'"

“Did you know one of the corpse lilies once ate a squirrel? Professor Thorne said she had to bribe it with bloodroot extract for a week.” “I hope she failed,” I muttered. The air inside the greenhouse was thick and damp, clinging to my skin like whispered curses. The scent of moss, spice, and subtle decay enveloped us as we stepped in. Students lined up behind tables, each covered in vines, soil, and what looked like a sleeping mandrake the size of a terrier. At the head of the room stood Professor Thorne. She was tall and sharp as a blade, her robes woven with thread that shimmered like wet steel. A thorned vine coiled lazily around one arm, its black flowers pulsing gently.