Tiktok Professor Cringe Novels & Stories

But halfway through, the door opened and Crocs walked in. My childhood friend. Tall, broad-shouldered, with that easy smile he always wore when he looked at me. He had transferred back to Bells University this semester, but I barely noticed him before. Today, he slid into the seat right behind me and leaned forward. “Jojo,” he whispered, voice low and concerned. “I saw the video. You okay? That professor had no right to grab you like that in front of everyone.” I didn’t turn around. “Mind your business, Crocs. I’m handling it.”

My heart is punching my ribcage. My phone dings again. Professor Drake is staring at the screen like it’s an enemy zone. He doesn’t say anything. His jaw ticks. His brow twitches. “So I’m Professor Grumpy Pants, huh?” He doesn't smile. “Shit.” I wince. That’s the nickname we gave Professor Drake. No one has actually seen him smile, so most of us call him Grumpy Pants. Doesn’t mean we should actually say it to his face. My throat is so dry it actually begins to hurt.

To emphasize their relationship, she even shakes her head. That professor simply chuckled with the rest of the class. Cristine was bewildered as to why they were giggling. Are they making fun of her? "So, who's joking?" Cristine sarcastically asked. "May I know? I want to laugh too." Right now, she has a strong desire to punch someone. Her demeanor is extremely tumultuous. "I'm sorry, Prof. She's just a little feisty, but what she said is true. She's not my girlfriend," the young master took into account. She’s a little enraged.

Me: That's a hundred percent correct and I also know you better than you know yourself. We beamed at each other ear to ear. My hottie Professor: Today I'm really not feeling like taking the class. Me: So what are you feeling like to do, Professor? My hottie Professor: I'm just feeling like to keep talking to you like this. Me: Then keep talking, who is stopping you? After all, you're a professor. You can even cancel the class. I winked at him. My hottie Professor: That's a great idea. I think I should really cancel the class today.

However, they do seem to be running out of steam so now seems to be a good time to stop them. “You arrogant twunt, you absolute fuck nugget of a human being” Tilly is not yelling, she is worse, she is saying it in a low disappointed tone that makes me want to hang my head in shame and I didn’t even do anything. Rather than saying anything back this time the professor just stays quiet and looks at his hands in his lap. “Okay!” I say clapping my hands together “As enlightening and entertaining as this has been I did need you both here for a reason.”

“It’s just dinner. With your professor. Who you’ve already slept with. Totally normal.” I nearly tripped on my way out the door.

It’s supposed to be a self-portrait, but all I see is a blur. "Rachel." I jump. Professor Langley is standing over me, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. "You’re falling behind." I swallow. "I know. I’m trying." He sighs, like he’s heard that a thousand times before. "Art isn’t about trying. It’s about feeling." I stare at my hands. What if I don’t feel anything at all? Jack finally acknowledges me when I slide into the booth across from him. "Hey," he says, mouth full of fries. "You okay? You look tired."

seeing professor smile he was quite worried ' so you wanted to blame yourself inspite of Kyra's mistake' professor said. "that... no..k..y" vian was unable to find words even it felt strange for him that he supported Kyra in this situation... 'your project is not cancelled so prepare for that' professor said. "but that form" vian questioned.. 'its a fake one Kyra asked me to fake it ' professor said. "but why" vian asked. 'that you will be knowing soon by Kyra she asked me not to tell you guys.' professor continued

All of my students loved me, and seemed to love my teachings. When the first year ended and the second year began, I was not prepared for the influx of young girls, students, throwing themselves at me. I was disgusted. It's an unspoken tradition at this school that every professor would end up sleeping with a student by the end of their second year teaching. That didn't happen with me. The students we have here, or at least the ones I end up teaching, are all spoiled rich kids. The girls are bratty, and not in the way I like.

If only she knew how difficult this class was, down to the motherfucking professor. “The thing is, no one knows who the professor is. He has two assistants who teach us, gives us tests and exams. So, if we have any complaints whatsoever, it goes to the assistants and not whoever the professor is and it is a fucking pain in my ass.” I held my head with both hands and landed on my bed, then screamed into my pillow. I hate the life I had. Why didn’t I have the life influencers I see online? I should be making short videos of useless things on the hundredth vacation that I didn’t need to take. But here I was, in a small room, worried about my grades.