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The Professor

The Professor

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.
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Her Professor's Forbidden Claim

Her Professor's Forbidden Claim

The same mouth that had been on me last night. Professor Elias Thorne. The man I fucked senseless in a hotel room. The man I was supposed to marry. He scanned the room and his eyes landed on me. I could see the same recognition I had on my face, flash through his. But it was gone in a second as he cleared his throat and stepped onto the podium. “Good morning,” he said calmly. “I’m Professor Thorne. Welcome to Advanced Literary Theory.” For a moment I just remained transfixed. Mara nudged me. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
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My Professor is A Mafia

My Professor is A Mafia

“At least I get fucked properly. You’re still chasing a man who barely looks at you.” Professor Harlan muttered something panicked about his wife and tenure before bolting past me, nearly tripping over his own feet. I felt bile rise in my throat. The sight of his glistening, cum-covered cock, the smell of sex in the air was revolting. Especially knowing Sophia had done it so casually. “You’re disgusting,” I said quietly, voice steady despite the nausea. “Both of you, how can you even be fucking with a professor because of grades atleast I've dignity not to be spreading for some Fs because I know you're definitely getting that”.
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The Professor’s Trap

The Professor’s Trap

Stepping almost directly between them, Yousef’s deep voice boomed through the corridor, making the entire hallway freeze: "Miss Hala... the hallway is not a lounge for side conversations! The lecture is about to begin, and student gatherings here are strictly prohibited." Turning to Amir with a stern look laced with intense, masculine dominance, he added coldly: "And you, sir... if you are a new student, make your way to the lecture hall immediately and stop delaying the others!" Amir felt the sharp, deliberate edge in the professor's tone. Raising an eyebrow with a subtle, challenging smirk, he looked back at Hala and said smoothly: "We'll talk later, Hala."
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The Professor’s Canvas

The Professor’s Canvas

I hear charcoal scratching the paper, he’s already drawing. I take my underwear down, step out of them, and I’m completely naked in my professor’s studio. “Sit on the stool in the stage.” I climb the two steps, the wooden stool pressing under me. The spotlight is bright, exposing. I cross my arms over my breasts, dying of shame. “Drop your arms.” “Mateo…” “Professor Sandoval.” His tone is sharp. “In this studio, you call me Professor. And you follow instructions. Arms down.”
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THE PROFESSOR'S DIRTY CLAIM

THE PROFESSOR'S DIRTY CLAIM

“Not until you tell me you’re not using him as bait.” Elliott’s jaw clenched. “I’m not the one who just tried to sell him out.” The video looped again my voice begging, “Please, Professor fuck me raw.” The room went silent except for that. Then Marcus laughed from the floor, blood on his lip. “Too late,” he wheezed. “It’s already uploading.” My world tilted. And in that frozen second, I realized: I’d just lost everything
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The Professor Who Loves Me

The Professor Who Loves Me

But he doesn’t show until a black Rolls-Royce pulls up in front of us. The professor steps out of the car in front of us, radiating virility. People are staring as if he were a famous person walking down the red carpet. He is wearing a black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a pair of black military boots, a far cry from what he usually wore as a professor. There’s something insanely beautiful about the way he presents masculinity. He’s revealed many facets of his personality in a fairly short amount of time. “Thank you for coming here for us, professor,” Lora says warmly.
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Atlantis

Atlantis

and she signed off. "What does he want?!" Rutledge cried out the question everyone has been meaning to ask. "He doesn't want anything. Not from us," Dunreft plaintively said. "He only wants to do what he wants." "The professor is mentally sick. Clearly, he is out of his mind!" Commander Kaine spatted. "Whatever! Kinski is insane," seconded Rutledge.
6.4K viewsCompletedAdded to Library 178 Times as the professor and the madman
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Lust For Me, Daddy's Good Girl

Lust For Me, Daddy's Good Girl

I kept him pinned there, my grip strong, my expression cold and distant as if I were dealing with an insect. Around us, professors jumped to their feet, stumbling backward in shock. “Mr. Roman!” someone shouted, voice trembling. “Oh my God, what is he doing?!” “Security! Call security!” No one dared move closer. They all instinctively knew, if they drew my attention, they would pay the price. “Help! Someone help me!” the professor sobbed, voice breaking. “This man is insane, call security! Please!”
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Show Reviews (38)
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Yelitza L. Meran
What’s happening with the updates? Lord have mercy…what’s the point of starting a story and weeks and weeks pass and no updates at all? It’s so frustrating!!! I understand life happens for everyone but at least let your readers know it will take a while or something…smh ...
sahanaupadhya92
I can't get enough of the story. Twists are awesome and unpredictable. How can someone explain a monster and make us love him? Wow author, you are doing a great job with this story. It's nothing like other love-revange soap opera stories. Keep up the good work.
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CAGED, CLAIMED, AND FATED

CAGED, CLAIMED, AND FATED

One of the other professors, the balding one, tries to move toward the door. Dante's free hand shoots out. He grabs the man by his collar and throws him against the opposite wall. The impact is sickening. The professor crumples to the floor and doesn't move. Unconscious. Or worse. The third professor holds up his hands. "Listen, we don't want any trouble..." Dante slams him into the wall next to Harrison without even looking at him. That professor slides down and stays down too. Now it's just Dante and Harrison. Dante walked to professor Harrison, and lifted him up the floor
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The first time I cracked open 'The Professor and the Madman', I expected a dry historical account—but boy, was I wrong. This book reads like a thriller wrapped in linguistic obsession. It chronicles the insane collaboration between Dr. W.C. Minor, an American surgeon locked in an asylum for murder, and Professor James Murray, the editor of the Oxford English Dictionary. Their unlikely partnership spanned decades, with Minor contributing thousands of definitions from his asylum cell. The irony? The man helping compile the definitive record of English rationality was clinically insane. Simon Winchester paints this duality beautifully—the meticulous scholarship amid madness, the way language became both prison and refuge. I lost sleep over passages detailing Minor’s delusions; how he believed Irish gangs tormented him at night, yet could pinpoint etymologies with surgical precision. The book made me wonder how many geniuses walk the line between brilliance and breakdown.

What stuck with me most was the tenderness beneath the scholarly grind. Murray only discovered Minor’s circumstances years into their correspondence, yet their mutual respect never wavered. That’s the heart of it: how words can bridge even the widest divides. The dictionary entries they crafted together feel like tiny monuments to human connection. Also, the descriptions of Victorian asylums? Haunting. Makes you grateful for modern psychiatry while marveling at how much we still don’t understand about the mind. Winchester sneaks in these profound questions about sanity, legacy, and the shadows behind 'proper' history—all while making 19th-century lexicography feel like high drama.

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