The Professor Novels & Stories

“You’re the screamer.” Great. “I’m Lira. Shadow fae. You?” “Seraphina. Human—I think.” She snorted. “Not with that power surge you pulled earlier.” I opened my mouth to ask more, but then the room fell silent. The professor had entered. He looked normal—clean-cut, gray suit, salt-and-pepper hair. Except for one thing. He made no sound. His footsteps were silent. Not even a whisper on the marble. It was as if the air had carried him.

NATASHA'S POV We stood frozen to the spot, my heart beating against my ribcage. Oh God, no. Just when I thought it was over for Patty and I, the professor pinned his eyes on an elite. The student looked taken aback. He scoffed. “Were you really talking to me?” He asked in a slightly irritated voice. The professor, who was physically built and looked like he was in his thirties, smiled. Something about his smile was hostile and deadly.

He is a person under forty and looks suspicious too. “Sorry for the delay,” the professor said after giving me a quick look. “Oh, what is a pretty girl like you doing here?” The teacher said as he approached me. "You take care, Grandpa," I said sarcastically, then sat down on the chair and heard laughter, and it turned out to be one of the boys. "Oh look who's on fire," said Jackson, mocking the professor. "Sit down, everyone; I don't want to hear any sound," the professor said angrily.

"Or should I say Noah? The perfect little student who can't look me in the eye during class, but here you are fingering yourself like a desperate slut, asking strangers to watch.” My face was on fire. How did he know? The heat in my stomach made me panic. I tried to turn away, but he held me down harder, and his erection pushed against my butt crack through his trousers. It was thick and hard—oh my god, it felt huge. "Professor, please—" "Shut your mouth." Three of his veined fingers pushed into mine, stretching my lips wide.

“No matter what, thank you for standing up for me. As your professor, it’s only fair that I reward you.” I exhaled in relief. “No need, Professor! It’s what students should do anyway…” “You do deserve it.” He picked up the phone on the desk, his gaze deep and unreadable. “Are you hungry? I will get you a sausage.” I froze for a second and then nodded frantically. As long as he didn’t make a big deal out of it, I’d eat anything—even metal if he handed it to me! “Thank you, Professor! I want the biggest one!”

As the other students filed out, Nate slowly packed his bag, his stomach a knot of dread. He approached the professor’s desk, his stomach a tight knot of guilt. Professor Harding, a man who looked younger than his mid-thirties with an athletic build and a clean-shaven jaw, looked up from his notes. He had a modern, sharp style a dark, well-fitted blazer over a charcoal henley shirt. His expression, however, was uncharacteristically stern.

Professor Kingsley, sitting at his desk off to the side, was so red he looked like he was about to burst, jowls trembling with fury. “Cassidy Knox,” the professor said, slowly rising from his seat, “do you care to explain yourself?”

My lips parted, but before I could form an answer, the professor’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “What do you want, Miss?” he groaned, his irritation unmasked. “Oooh, I’m sorry, sir,” Nina cooed, feigning innocence, though her smirk never faded. “It’s just that I saw my sister come in a while ago, and she’s taking too long to come out. I just wanted to know if she’s okay.” The professor lifted his gaze at last. His eyes darkened, cold and heavy as they fixed on Nina. The look made the air in the room heavier, and I saw her shift ever so slightly, as if that gaze pressed against her skin.

“Mr. Cole, Miss Lessie. The Vice Chancellor is expecting you.” She gestured toward the double doors. I took a deep breath. “This is it,” I muttered under my breath. Taide pushed the door open, and we stepped inside. Three professors were already seated: Professor Clive from Political Science, Dr. Alara from Media Studies, and of course Professor Dante. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of him. He was sitting calmly beside the others, dressed in his usual black, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded loosely in his lap.

I almost smiled at him but I caught myself before I could do that. “As I was saying, before I was interrupted," the man started, staring directly at me, “my ways of teaching are quite different from anything you're used to. I tend to get.. intense, at times. For those who just joined us, my name is Professor Matthews and I would be taking you Advanced Literature. Brace yourselves, guys, because there is no room for slackers in any class of mine.” All through his teaching, I was unable to take my eyes off of him. He had a way of capturing people's attention and he could have had mine all day without any interruption.