Neko Atsume Chairman Meow Novels & Stories

After an earthquake, my boyfriend chooses to save a manipulative woman who's closest to the door. I'm pinned to the floor by a cupboard, but he forgets all about me. I pass out from the pain. When I wake up, I discover that my right hand is now useless. My boyfriend apologizes to me. He tells me he was only thinking about saving a life. Later, my boyfriend is diagnosed with a terminal illness. I'm the only person in the world who can save him. He weeps and begs me for help, but I can't hold a scalpel anymore.

The wolves are causing chaos, and a war is on the verge of starting, but Lucifer had to step in and stop it from going. To show the wolves his sincerity, he offered them something they can't refuse, a Neko, but not any Neko, he was offering them his favourite baby kitten. Would the pack know how to deal with her? Or would they be too busy running after her and forgetting all about the war? This story contains fluff, cuteness and no sex. It can count as ddlg, cgl, and age regression. Apologies for any misspelling and grammar mistakes.

More than a dozen institutions are competing for the technology that my younger sister, Harper Prescott, created in her research project. I return to the country just to host a college send-off party for her. But when I reach home, I find Harper being hung from a helicopter like a kite. Panicking, I run forward to save her, but a haughty rich woman blocks my way. "How dare she steal my precious niece's scholarship? This is her punishment!" I personally selected that scholarship from over a dozen institutions. How did it become her niece's? Seeing Harper's face turn purple as she falls unconscious, I demand they bring her down. The woman throws a 100-thousand-dollar check at me and says, "I'd like to see who dares to let her down. Take this money as payment for your sister's life. The three Simmons brothers are my sons. Not to mention the life of a nobody like her, even with you included, I can still afford it!" I am enraged! The three Simmons brothers are just poor students whose education I funded. Three years ago, I went abroad for my medical treatment and let them manage the company for me. I never expect them to use the power I gave them to let others bully Harper and me. Very well. I take a deep breath and call the three of them. This time, I will let them know who really rules in Southford.

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.

When I went to register my son, Cody Vantor, for medical insurance before his first year of kindergarten, I was told I wasn’t his biological mother. "Are you sure this is your child? The system shows a different woman listed as the mother." I said nothing. I quietly snapped a photo of the unfamiliar home address, then followed it to the neighboring complex. When he saw me, my husband, Dorian Vantor, froze. His hand instinctively moved to block the doorway. "So you found out. But making a scene won’t change anything. I haven’t treated you badly these past three years." I looked past him, and my body went cold. The woman behind him was my younger sister, Summer Walsh, fresh out of college. She handed him a glass of water and gave me an apologetic smile. "Don’t blame me, Lennie. The doctor said I have postpartum depression. I can’t handle hearing a baby cry. Thank you for raising Cody for me all these years. I really am grateful." Just then, Cody, who had been waiting in the car downstairs, ran up. He rushed into Summer’s arms like it was second nature, then turned to look at me. "Aunt Lenora, don’t cry. Mommy said you’re a good person. That’s why she asked you to help. Daddy said if I behave and call you ‘Mom’ at your house, I can come back on weekends to see my real Mommy."

I'd been engaged to Ivan since we were kids. When he went off to the military, I stayed behind—ten years of caring for his paralyzed mom, putting my whole life on pause. By the time he came back, I was at the age where most women were settling down. And he showed up with someone else. Ivan laid it out, stone cold: "Nadia's my comrade's widow. If you want to marry me, you'll have to accept her too. Most of my pay goes to her. I promised I'd take care of her. She gets first pick of everything in the house. Don't like it? Then forget about getting married." I looked past him. Nadia stood there, tears dripping down her cheeks, playing the poor little victim. Right then, I ended it. No drama. No regrets. Signed up for the Rural Teaching Support Program the same day. Left love behind. Threw everything I had into teaching.

My husband took our six-year-old son to meet his first love, using him as a cover. At some point, he sent our son to buy burn cream. My sweet boy then encountered a lunatic who stabbed him to death. The pain in my heart was unbearable. When I saw the burn cream still in my son's hand, I broke down in tears. Yet, my husband called to berate me, "Look at the son you've raised, Shayla Joy! He burned Claire and didn't even apologize. Get him back here right now!"

In the three years I date Colin Blanchard, he tests me 99 times. On the 100th time, he sends me to a jock's bed following his secretary's suggestion. This time, I do not resist. I sleep with the jock seven times in one night. Colin berates me for being shameless. He quickly marries his secretary, Chelsea Wright, and deliberately waves their marriage certificate in front of me to provoke me. He taunts, "Tammy, you were just one step away from becoming Mrs. Blanchard. It is your own fault for not holding on. Now it is too late to regret it." Chelsea wraps her arm around him affectionately and says, "Thanks to you, I am able to a wonderful man like Colin. But now that you have lost your chastity and have been dumped by Colin, I am afraid no one in Baywich would want to marry you." What a coincidence. I happened to have registered my marriage just the day before. My husband, Jeremiah Atkinson, is the richest man. Five years later, I take my daughter to a piano competition. By chance, I run into Colin again. Seeing my plain clothes, he comes over to mock me. "Tammy, did you come here today just to see me because you knew I would be here? Stop dreaming. Even if you abandon your burdensome child in front of me today, you are no longer worthy of being with me." I ignore him. In my heart, I am feeling anxious because Jeremiah is still nowhere to be seen. Our daughter is about to perform!

I go to my boyfriend after hearing about him flirting with his college senior. On the way there, I get into an accident and suffer from temporary memory loss after a head injury. He hurries to the hospital but points at his stoic dormmate and claims he's my boyfriend instead. He wants to use this to get rid of me. I'm unaware of this, so I hold the handsome dormmate's hand and look at him with bright eyes. "So, you're my boyfriend." Later, I regain my memory but still want to be with the handsome dormmate. I want to sever ties with my boyfriend, but he breaks down.

When I'm about to apply for medical insurance for my son, Connor Sawyer, who's about to start his first year in kindergarten, I'm told that I'm not his biological father at all. "Are you sure this is your son? The system shows that his father is an entirely different person." I don't respond at all. Instead, I secretly take a photo of the unfamiliar-looking address before tracking it down. It turns out that it's actually a residential area right by my own. The moment my wife, Giselle Lambert, sees me, she freezes momentarily. At the same time, she blocks the door subconsciously with her hand. "In the end, you still found out about the truth. But there's no use kicking up a fuss, you know. I never mistreated you in any way over the past three years, after all." When I notice the familiar figure standing behind Giselle, I feel my limbs going cold. That person is actually my younger brother, Vincent Sawyer, who has just graduated from college. Vincent hands Giselle a glass of water before smiling at me apologetically. "Don't blame me, Hayden. The doctor says that I'm severely depressed, so I can't handle hearing a child's cries at all. I'm really thankful to you for raising Connor on my behalf in the past few years." At that moment, Connor, who's supposed to be waiting for me in my car, rushes into the apartment. He runs into Vincent's arms happily before turning to look at me. "Don't cry, Uncle Hayden. Daddy says you're a good person, so he's asked you for help. Mommy tells me that if I call you 'daddy' in your home, I'll get to visit my real daddy during the weekends."