Yakuza Bed Novels & Stories

Well, from what I know, Japanese Yakuza tend to build their base in an old or traditional model to show chivalry. The door opens with men's lined up on two sides and greets us in sync while doing a 90-degree bow. It was quite shocking since we didn't have this kind of custom back in America but none of us show our mesmerization and keep our stoic faces on. We walk past them straight towards the room where Hisao is waiting. "Vanessa, you will accompany me in while the rest wait in your own room. Ask them where you should stay. If it's as simple as asking such a thing I'm sure you can right?" I ask them while they nod in response. They took my and Vanessa's luggage and goes to their own destin

an Asian looking man who’s just as hot as YS but way older says as he comes to shake both mine and Viktor’s hands. “Ya-Long” he says introducing himself “The Yakuza stand at your disposal Dona De Leone” he bows with a top of his head then takes his leave followed by six muscular men I take mental snapshots of to save in my spank bank. “Your drooling doll” Vic whispers in my ear before kissing the top of my head. “Why do you do that” I ask looking up at him. “I’ll tell you later” he shrugs then says “Or eventually, maybe” I elbow him in the side playfully as another man approaches.

Nakamura nodded toward the main house, and the mansion seemed to absorb us as we passed through its doors. The interior hadn't changed since the last time I'd been here. Minimalist furniture arranged with mathematical precision. Screens painted with mountains and water in that particular style the Japanese loved. But underneath the aesthetic, I could feel the weight of the organization: the yakuza was old blood, older than the Bratva, older than most things that killed for money. They had a code that we respected, even when we were pointing guns at each other's heads. "This way," Nakamura said, and his men flanked us as we moved deeper into the compound.

Andreas introduces me, and this is where they turn around. The Eastern scents now made sense to me; they’re Japanese. The older male steps forward; he looks perfectly polished in an expensive suit, but I can sense a danger about him even as he tries to hide his tattoos: the slicked-back salt and pepper hair, the scars on the side of his face and knuckles. This man is Yakuza; I can tell by the way he tries to shoulder the weapons strapped to him. “Fenriz Vega, it is a pleasure to meet you finally.” He says in perfect English with a faint Kanto accent and steps forward with his arm outstretched. “Kaen Tsukishima.”

“Rest deeply tonight, my perfect gaijin whore. Your body will be very busy serving two powerful syndicates soon.” I closed my eyes in her arms, body still throbbing with deep satisfaction, completely lost in my new role as the Yakuza Dragon Clan’s treasured shared pet.

Instead, it bore the subtle, chilling weight of power built not on money, but on fear. Her maternal home. The Yakuza didn’t need introductions. Two men in black suits bowed stiffly at the gate before one leaned into the tinted window. The moment he saw her, his eyes widened, and he quickly signaled the guards to open the iron doors. No questions. No delay. Inside, the courtyard buzzed with men sharpening blades, cleaning guns, trading terse words. The scent of incense clung faintly to the air, masking the smoke of tobacco and gun oil.

He said rising and pulling me out of bed. 'What?' I grumbled like a child. 'Let's order pizza and play video games. It's not like there's anything more interesting we could do'. I ordered pizza while he set up the game and immediately it arrived we began work. We played for hours, deep into the night and only stopped when our fingers began hurting unbearably. We just lay there on the floor. 'Zayn?' Jake called lightly. 'Hm?' 'Have you ever wanted something you knew you could never have?'

"What do you think?" Kenzo asked looking at the king sized bed infront of them. "It's quite big, dont you think?" Yara said looking at the bed. Kenzo suddenly smiled because he thought of something. Yara furrowed her forehead seeing Kenzo. "Why are you smiling?" Yara asked. "Oh, no, nothing." Kenzo said and looked away but Yara saw his red ears. "You!" Yara said and spanked Kenzo's shoulder. "What? Why?" Kenzo asked. "Mr. Kenzo Vasquez! For your information, your ears now are colored red. Pervert!" Yara said blushing because she already know why Kenzo suddenly smiled a while ago. Kenzo scratches his head. "I can't helped it. Sorry." Kenzo said smiling sweetly. Yara gave him a squint.

Because at that time, I didn't know that I would never come back home. I saw the hotel that had Yamashita written on it, I stepped into Kazuo's penthouse. I did not think, why a rich man like him, moreover he has the Yakuza under his control. He chose to live in a penthouse instead of a big mansion. I held tightly to the jewelry box he gave me. And as the elevator opened, I looked up at the large but deserted penthouse.

His father had made sure, even upon leaving that line of work, that his son should be trained in the ways of the Yakuzas, especially when it comes to defending himself. He hears more bullets being fired outside his home and knows he needs to be ready to face the inevitable. At the very least, I will die where I want, and in the way I choose. Akihiro Yamaguchi slides a vintage-styled shoji - the wide paper doors so commonly used for Japanese dojos - which lined one of the huge house’s inner gardens. Inside was a spacious room with a wooden floor, bamboo-lined walls, and weapon racks displayed in strategic places. He walks straight up to a major display case in the best part of the room and ta