Cook Anime Novels & Stories

“It looks like you already came, that’s how wet you are.” He observes in a monotone voice. I swore, I choked on my breath. A cry left my lips as his cold fingers pinched on both my nipples. He pulled my already riled up dress over my head and my breast bounced free. He pulled me up and bend me over, so my face was now pressing against the bed. He grips my hips and pull them up higher against his cook, I arched my back further. I can feel the heat of his cock directly, I’m completely naked before him while he’s still clothed. ••• Zara slept with a stranger in the dark. A deliberate act she meant to remember. A man she never meant to see again. Until Zara learns the truth. Matteo doesn’t ask. He takes. Power clings to him like a second skin—cold eyes, lethal calm, and a presence that makes disobedience feel impossible. He should have erased her from his mind the moment he learned she was his step-sister. Instead, he claims her in silence. Guilt pulls her away. Desire drags her back. And in Matteo’s world, love isn’t gentle—it’s possession, control, and hunger sharpened into obsession Some mistakes don’t fade. They become sins.

We all know how it ends, the story of the sexy cheerleader and the captain of the football team. But this is different. Every cheerleader always dates every guy on the football team it is a "high school achievement". You know how it feels to walk down the hall and have all eyes on you, most of them envy you, some wish they were you, some wants your man and the few just would stop at nothing to drag you down. Well that's a "high school challenge" one way or the other student see school as a battle field in other to meet up with the high status, keeping up appearances, expressing themselves and getting high. Keeping up good grades is only secondary. PROM, PROM, PROM, that's what's on every girls mind and it will be embarrassing when your girls ask "who are you going with" and you say "with no one", "that's a high school walk of shame". High school is like a bed you lay. You can choose how you want to lay it, what matters is you lie on it eventually. By The story of the sexy cheerleader and the captain of the football team are just like the fairy tale story of Cinderella and her prince charming but the question is, does every story end up like that? Still, standing at the far end of the hallway was a simple introvert, trying to cook up the courage to say one word to her. He could see her laugh at her friends jokes, but can she SEE him?

She was sent to steal, not to fall in love. Mia—a woman trapped in the shackles of her father’s debts—was a pawn in a dangerous game. Forced to work for a criminal gang, her orders were clear: disguise as a stripper, seduce her target, and steal a critical drive. It was supposed to be simple. But nothing about that night went according to plan. Because Zac was there. A billionaire with power, charm, and eyes that saw straight through her. He booked her for the night, and in a single heartbeat, everything changed. Mia missed her target, and in a twist of fate, two strangers fell into a love neither of them saw coming. But love is a weakness. When her boss demands her loyalty, Mia has no choice but to vanish—leaving Zac broken and Mia a ghost. Months later, she’s back. A new name. A new role. A new mission. This time, Mia’s orders are clear: spy on him. Hired as his cook, she steps back into Zac’s world… only to discover he’s now engaged to someone else. The man who once promised her forever is out of reach. And the secrets Mia carries are more dangerous than ever. But some connections can’t be erased. As lies unravel and betrayal ignites, Mia is faced with a choice: protect the man who still owns her heart or survive the forces that will stop at nothing to destroy them both. In a game of lies and love, the heart is the deadliest weapon of all. Prepare to be captivated by THE BILLIONAIRE’S MYSTIQUE BRIDE—A suspenseful romance story, you won’t be able to put down.

Every time the housekeeper came to cook, she brought her daughter along. I felt sorry for them — single mother, no support — so I never said a word. Until one afternoon, I pulled out the chair at the head of the table and found a note taped to the back. It read: "Freeloaders aren't allowed to eat here." I tore the note off and turned to the housekeeper. "What is this supposed to mean?" The girl shot me a look of pure contempt and let out a cold laugh. "You're just a maid. You sponge off other people's homes day after day — how are you not ashamed? If you can't afford food, go beg on the street. People like you, mooching off everyone, make me sick." I stared at her, completely thrown. The housekeeper rushed over and lowered her voice. "Ms. Wolfe, my daughter doesn't know I'm the maid here. She saw how hard I work and felt sorry for me — that's why she put up the note." "And she has serious germophobia. She can't stand eating with strangers. Wait outside until she's done eating. Don't come back in." Before I could answer, she shoved me out the front door. The door slammed shut behind me with a final bang. I stood there on the steps and calmly dialed the police. "Hello. There's been a break-in at my home. Someone's locked me out. I need an officer here now."

After the real son, Asher Vale, was brought back, everything in our house became tied to drawing lots. The chef of the day, who would have to cook a particular person's preferred dishes, had to be decided by drawing lots. Even our parents' kisses and hugs were chosen the same way. I always drew the short stick. The long stick, by default, belonged to Asher. He never had to do anything to receive our parents' love. Whenever I felt it was unfair and wanted to cry, Mom would scold me sharply, "I bought the lot-drawing box because I was afraid you'd feel hurt. I wanted to be fair to both of you. If you want something, decide it yourselves. Your father and I won't interfere. If you can't draw the long stick, you can only blame your bad luck." So I began practicing every day, shaking the box diligently, over and over, in hopes that one day, it would help me earn my parents' love. Unfortunately, for ten years, I never once drew the long stick. Until my birthday. Asher wanted to go to the amusement park, and Mom once again told us to decide by drawing lots. I secretly glued the two short sticks together and handed them to Mom, hoping to keep her with me. She slapped me hard across the face, screaming that I was cheating and disobedient. Then she stormed out of the house with Asher. When I fell to the ground, the short stick stabbed deep into my neck. 'I'm sorry, Mom. Next time, I'll work harder. Next time, I'll definitely draw the long stick.'

Twenty-five-year-old Claire Soberano and her son are on the run. Escaping her abusive fiancé, she flew to Long Beach to live with her cousin, The Reid. Hiding secrets, staying indoors, and feeling safe with family, Claire will do anything to protect her son. She thought Eddie would be her soulmate, her long-life husband but revealing his true colors changed her love after six years of relationship. When her body is tattooed from the bruises and injury, Eddie turns on to her son to take the batter; it makes Claire realize the man is dangerous and in fear for her son's life. She could never trust a man, let alone fall in love again. That is until meeting an oversized man, Donovan Wolfe. Donovan Wolfe is the third eldest of the Wolfe brothers. When his older brother isn't around, he sticks around to ensure everything is in order. Don has been in civil service right after high school making his way to the top as a Lieutenant, and the scars prove his service. But after, an incident led him to retire and be with his family. Watching his older and younger brothers find love, he wishes he could have what they have. Upon meeting Claire, he found a sweet and caring woman who is a fantastic cook, much like his mom. He wanted a wife to be like his mother. But he also saw a distress call and recognized the bruises and her outcry for help. Similar to the cause when he was a kid, which he failed to protect, but this time, he vows to do anything to keep Claire and her son safe.

As I grit my teeth and buy the last box of discounted shrimp, a young woman dressed head to toe in designer brands is picking out imported seafood beside me. She glances at me and casually drops a king crab into my cart. "It's the holidays. Treat yourself better," she says with a carefree smile. "I'll pay for everything you buy today." I am shocked when I see the five-figure price tag. I quickly try to decline her by waving my hands frantically. She pulls out a black card and shrugs. "It's fine. My sugar daddy gives me more money than I can spend. If I don't use it, he'll get mad." I force a laugh. "Sounds like he's really generous to you." "He's alright, I guess. I can't spend money as fast as he earns it," she says nonchalantly. After a slight pause, she goes on, "Speaking of which, his girlfriend is pretty dumb. She works nonstop for years just to help him pay off a debt that doesn't even exist. When I say I want him to cook on New Year's Eve, he immediately ditches his girlfriend to come be with me." I freeze for a moment. My boyfriend, Eric Sterling, is in debt. Just as I am thinking it can't be that much of a coincidence, my phone buzzes with a message from Eric. He texts, "Anne, the company assigned me to an extra shift tonight. I get triple the pay. Buy yourself something nice to eat. I'll be home tomorrow."

My mother-in-law was somehow allergic to me. As long as I was in the house, her skin would break out in rashes, and she would struggle to breathe. The hospital could not find any specific allergen. They said it might be something to do with my scent. To give his mother some relief, my husband Keith asked me to stay in a hotel every weekend. I quietly packed away everything that was mine. I even stopped wearing my favorite perfume just so I could stay home for one extra day. However, her condition only grew worse. The days I was allowed to be home dropped from five days a week to three, and eventually to just one. I never complained. I only hoped she would get better soon. One day, I left work early to pick up a document from home. I heard laughter from inside the house. "Mom, your trick really works! Every time you cough, my brother kicks that woman out." It was Keith's god-sister Caroline, who had studied abroad. My mother-in-law laughed smugly. "Caroline, you're the best. You can cook, and you give great massages. You're nothing like that useless block of wood who's always in the way. "Keith, hurry up and marry Caroline already. Get rid of that woman!" Keith's voice was full of indulgence. "Mom, don't say things like that. Caroline, look at the perfume I bought you. You've worked hard lately." All strength left my body as I stood frozen at the door.

At the family recognition banquet meant to introduce the real heiress, a stream of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: [So, the real heiress tried to get back at the fake one by stealing the engagement gift from her and the male lead and got caught red-handed.] [Even if she’s technically the fiancée, he knows who he really loves. The fake heiress is the one he actually wants.] [What fiancée? She’s just a thief. Send her back to whatever slum she crawled out of.] Dressed in a princess gown and surrounded by admirers, the fake heiress, Luna Lawson, walked up to me: “Risa, you’re finally back. Mom, Dad, and I have missed you so much. From now on, we’re a family.” I quietly kept eating my fried chicken. When Luna saw me ignore her, her eyes suddenly reddened. Then she reached into my worn backpack and pulled out a ladies’ wristwatch. “Why did you steal the engagement gift Brian gave me? I know you’re dissatisfied with me, but that doesn’t mean you can become a thief!” My fiancé, Brian Cook, looked at me with open disgust. “Return it to Luna right now, then get out of this house.” Under the scornful gazes of the guests, I pointed at the man on stage, my father, who was clinking glasses with Luna’s adoptive father, and asked in confusion. “What exactly did I steal? I’m not here for some family reunion. I just came along with my boss to grab a free meal.” The comments exploded: [This is way too awkward. She’s not the real heiress; she’s just an employee?!]

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.