Yakuza Bed Novels & Stories

Ryu went out of his room and is struggling to open his eyes to the brightness coming from the windows. Ryu likes to sleep in the dark since he usually starts sleeping after sunrise. He went to the monitor and asked who it was. "Good morning. Sorry to bother you this early. I'm Yuka, you're new roommate. I tried calling Nato since he was supposed to take me here, but he wouldn't answer so I just went straight to the address that he gave me." How irresponsible can Nato be at this point? It was his idea to drink all throughout the night not thinking that he made an arrangement with Yuka the next day. Ryu tried to get a look at Yuka from the monitor but could barely see a glimpse of her from whe

"I left Rosa's binky in the nursery. I'll be back in a minute." She scampered down the hallway, to Xavier's study room. ****** "Boss, Masashi said he saw Vincenzo in Kobe." Rico informed. Masashi Yoshinawa was the boss of the Japanese yakuza. Yoshinawa-gumi (Yoshinawa group) was the largest Yakuza family, accounting for 50 percent of all Yakuza in Japan. Masashi was a friend of Xavier's and two years ago, he had killed Masashi's father, Kaito Yoshinawa. Kaito was a savagely violent man, even towards his own family. He killed innocent people, including his own wife. Something that the mafia would never do. Masashi was too weak to go against him. Thus, two years ago he came to Xavier for help

That fucking old gay man force Zilv to rape a man and that's fucking awful and horrible, I can't find the right word to describe how evil that old man is. "Why don't you tell Nick to avoid that man then?" I asked Zilv but he just raised his brows at me. "Tsk! Do you want me dead? Do you know who's that man is? He is part of the Yakuza and you won't dare to interfere with their business, and as you can see, Nick is his business tonight." Zilv replied to me. "And you want me dead?" I asked Zilv.

The old man started, "Your father was a Korean member of the Kazuno clan. A crime group syndicate that operates in Japan. He was accused of betraying his group by selling information to outsiders. He was killed by Kazuno Haruto, the leader of the clan. Your mother fled to South Korea with your uncle then moved to London. You know nothing about this, aren't you?" Austin sighed. "You just hand me a puzzle piece that completes the whole picture," The story undoubtedly fit but it was foolish to blindly trust his words. Austin stared at the man who still had his black sunglasses on, "Who are you and why are you telling me all of this and how can I know you are not giving me false information and

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. “Tsukishima Kaen.”

"Do you know how messy Resti is?" The mention of Angga's sister's name did make Maureen curious as to what kind of person the two men near her were talking about, but it was not the right time for Maureen to dig into the life of someone who was not related at all to her current problem. "While you stay here first, is that okay?" Angga opened one of the doors to the room that made Maureen and Ben gape before entering. A masculine impression showed the real owner of the room. Many posters of famous bands from Japan with a fierce impression, steel tables attached to the gray wall without legs plowing the floor, and a single bed whose edge was attached to the other side of the room with dark gla

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. “Tsukishima Kaen.”