Professor Venomous Novels & Stories

"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.'"

Leather briefcase that landed on the desk with a decisive thud. No smile. No warmth. No “Hi, I’m your new professor” niceties. Just pure, distilled authority. “Literature,” he said, voice smooth like aged whiskey but slicing like glass. “Is the science of manipulation. I am Professor Alessandro Martinez. Let’s begin.” My heart stuttered, traitorously.

‘Let’s take her home and mark her. Theron forced the beast down, his exterior remaining as chilled and calculating as ice. "My name is Professor Vance," his deep baritone rolled through the acoustics of the room, sending a strange, involuntary shiver down Rhiannon’s spine. "I do not tolerate lateness, I do not tolerate mediocrity, and I do not tolerate disruptions. Open your texts to page forty." The class scrambled to obey. But they couldn’t stop the whisper coming from their mouths. “Oh my God, do you see those tattoos? The snake one climbing up his neck?”

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."

“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.