Cherub Campus Movie Novels & Stories

Zoey Prince was a good girl. A girl with impressive goals. Goal Number One: Finish her bachelor's before age 21 - Tick Goal Number Two: Begin her Master’s by age 22 - Tick Goal Number Three: Get married to the love of her life by 25 - Not Quite On the day her Master’s program began, she discovered that the man she’d spent the past four years loving was cheating on her with her best friend, his excuse being that she was boring and by the books, and he needed someone fun. Zoey was shattered. Throwing caution to the wind, Zoe decided to prove to herself that she was not a boring person. She went on an escapade and this led her into the arms of the one man that promised to make her life a living hell. Professor Simon Beaumont. Simon Beaumont was a menace. At thirty-three, he’d achieved a feat his peers hadn’t achieved half of. Feat: Become a professor by twenty-eight - Tick Feat: Become a billionaire before thirty-five - Tick Feat: Get over his divorce from his ex-wife - Not Quite When his student, Zoey Prince got on his nerves, he was determined to make her life a living hell. When life threw her into his arms, he pushed, but soon he came to realize something: They both needed each other. Zoey would help him get over his messy divorce, and he would teach things about her body. … “Zoey, a man as impure as me shouldn’t be with someone as chaste as you. I’m a sinner before man, and before God.” Simon muttered as Zoey dry-humped him, placing her hands on his neck, her fingernails digging into the flesh of his nape. “I don’t care, professor. Just claim me as yours.” She whimpered into his ear.

Forbidden heat, chemistry, obsession. Roses are red, trouble looks good, and Elara was not prepared for this kind of heat. She thought her cheating, abusive husband was the best she could get. Two lost pregnancies. A family that body-shamed her and mocked her hard work like it was a hobby. She wanted peace. She got Adrian. Adrian…. cold, brilliant, infuriatingly attractive. A final-year student with eyes that lingered too long and a secret billionaire empire no one knew he controlled. A man used to getting everything he wants. She’s off-limits. He’s obsessed. And when their desire crosses the line, it ignites something neither of them can put out. What happens when the student no one dares to cross falls for the professor who thinks she’s unworthy of desire? This semester? They’re both failing self-control.

“Are you into threesomes?”. Imagine your soon to be husband popping that question on your first date. Red thought the worst thing that could happen to her was being forced into an arranged marriage by her family until she walked into her first master’s lecture and saw her ‘husband’ standing at the front of the class.Their marriage was supposed to stay private. A quiet family deal. A contract neither of them asked for. In front of everyone else, Art Wilson was just the brilliant professor every girl whispered about. In private, he was the man she was legally tied to, the man who looked at her like he already knew every way to ruin her.

During the mandatory freshman orientation camp, my skin had flared up with a severe allergic reaction, so I didn't use the plastic washbasin the school handed out. Instead, I opened my suitcase and took out the custom silver basin I had brought from home. My roommate, Louisa Carter, immediately made a snide remark, drawling, "You're really something, huh? Kids from broke families like us are lucky to have any basin at all." I didn't bother responding. I simply pulled out my facial essence to do a cold compress, but she immediately rushed over, slapped the bottle out of my hand, and jabbed a finger at my face. "Bet you get tens of thousands a month for living expenses. You have a sugar daddy, don't you? Don't you feel guilty making your folks work their fingers to the bone back on the farm? People like you don't deserve to be at our school. I'm reporting you to the student counselor." I laughed in disbelief and slapped her. … The next morning, the family photo I'd left on my desk had been slashed to ribbons. Across the back, carved in ink, were the words: 'Daughter of a homewrecker. Go to hell.' I went straight to the police. While officers pulled the dorm security footage, our student counselor and the university president rushed in. The moment the president saw the man whose face had been cut apart in my photo, his legs nearly buckled. He almost dropped to his knees.

At the class session joined by the school leaders and officials from the Department of Education, my lecture PPT was swapped for a sensational "Mistress's Charge Letter". "Charge one. Willingly being the other woman makes her an unsuitable role model for students." "Charge two. Attempting to secure a higher position through sex." "Charge three. Menacing the lawful wife with the absurd hope of advancing through pregnancy." Amidst the leaders and officials, my husband's illegitimate child accused me of disrupting her parents' marriage. In the name of "expelling the mistress to achieve justice", she coerced me, the true wife, into a humiliating bow to the mistress. I confronted my husband upon his arrival, "Care to explain? Why didn't I know that you had an illegitimate daughter?" He responded with a strike to the girl's face. "Where are you from, you unruly child? You're so ill-mannered!"

All because of Leo Cullen’s words, I gave up a place at a top-tier university in Ceres and stayed behind to retake the entrance exams with him—three times. By the fourth year, a girl arrived at our cram school, and Leo forgot the promise we made. He started skipping class, picking fights, smoking—doing everything but studying. One day, I stood at the school gate, blocking his path with a textbook in hand as he tried to ditch class. He smirked, unimpressed, and blew a bubble with his gum, letting it stick to the ends of my hair. “Naomi…,” he began, “who still cares about studying these days?” So I stopped caring and avoided him entirely. When he fooled around in the classroom, I went to the library. When he played basketball, I sat in a quiet corner with my books. Even when I craved noodles from my favorite shop, I’d scan the room first to make sure he wasn’t there. “Are you avoiding me, Naomi?” he asked later, his face in a frown. I shook my head. “Why would you think that?”

My roommate had a strange obsession with taking cold showers on the balcony. She claimed it helped detox her body and brightened her skin. I warned her, “You should be more mindful of your privacy.” However, she only laughed, accusing me of being jealous of her flawless figure. Then, disaster struck. Her shower photos were leaked online, and soon after, thugs showed up at our door, demanding to humiliate her. Instead of taking responsibility, she turned on me. “It’s her! She’s the shameless one showering on the balcony!” Betrayed and defenseless, I was dragged into the woods and left to die, my life snuffed out in humiliation and pain. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on that fateful day—the day my roommate took her first cold shower on the balcony.

I used an anonymous account to send a video chat invitation to my crush, a senior who had always been aloof and reserved, but he agreed. Throughout the video chat, I had on a black mask, and I modified my voice to conceal my identity. At my command, he took off his clothes one by one, revealing his solid abs. While I was admiring his toned body, he smiled devilishly and said, "It's your turn now..."

In a music competition show, my rival unexpectedly played the melody I had in my mind before I could. Shocked, I confronted her, asking why she plagiarized me. However, she turned the accusation against me and said, "You said I stole your work, but do you have any proof?" However, I was unable to provide any concrete evidence. Thus, I was labeled as a bully and a plagiarist, ultimately meeting a tragic end. Even in my final moments, I couldn't figure out how she managed to steal something from my mind. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on that same stage. Seeing that my rival was about to play her part, I stopped her and said, "This time, it's my turn to go first."

My roommate beamed with pride as she told me a horrifying secret: she had allowed a wealthy businessman to "remove" her unborn child, claiming he absorbed the baby’s fortune in exchange for a hefty payout. Chills ran down my spine. I urged her to stop meddling with such dark dealings before it destroyed her, but she wouldn’t listen. Instead, she threw herself into it, addicted to helping people "transfer luck" for money. Her luck ran out when she contracted a mysterious disease. When her boyfriend found out, she turned on me, tearfully accusing me of tying her to another man’s bed. Before I could even defend myself, an enraged man ran me down with his car. The next thing I knew, I woke up to find myself back in time. My roommate was leaning in close, her eyes glinting with excitement as she whispered, asking if I wanted to join her "luck transfer" schemes. This time, I wasn’t taking any chances. I noticed the slight swell of her belly and immediately sent a text to her boyfriend: "Congrats! You’re going to be a dad!"