Yuri X Otabek Novels & Stories

Tamayo could not help laughing when he looked at Yuri in surprise. “Yuri Cash, your tendons just recovered. Do you want them broken again?” “You can try to break them!” Yuri replied coldly.

Scarlett said, her tone growing angrier “I’m no slave here, you best remember that” “If you have nothing to hide, then I assume that it would only be fair that they check” Esteban said, his tone challenging. The sound of shuffling filled the area, and it wasn’t until I heard Viktor curse that I realized that my mate was stripping out of her clothes, giving them a show of her body.

"How does it feel?" "Terrifying. Liberating. Human." Yuri sat beside her. "A year ago, I was Subject 0001. Perfect weapon. Completely controlled. Today, I'm Yuri who laughs at chicken jokes and cries at sad movies and gets frustrated with technology that doesn't work properly. I'm... person. Actual person." "You were always a person. You just couldn't see it."

But Alex is all business, and if he thinks he’s dragging me back to Chicago to face my father, he’s going to have a fight on his hands. I kick and thrash and suddenly Yuri, the huge, tattooed Russian who sits and watches the DJ, Lucy, every night with a moon face, steps in front of us, blocking Alex. “Put girl down.” His accent is as thick as his meaty arms. You gotta love Yuri. I’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure he’s ex-mafia, too. Or bratva—whatever they call Russian mafiya. His tattoos read like a rap sheet and when he’s not looking moony at Lucy, his expression promises death to anyone who gets in his way or looks too long at his girl.

Keya P.O.V I was nervous, but very excited. The plan is to allow my 'Gurls' to show themselves while I stay back and observe from the Spirit Realm. Yuri is first up. And I watch as she greets them with her thick sultry southern accent. "Well, ain't y'all the lively lil' bunch. Hello, I'm Yuridicae but y'all can call me Yuri. And I am Rukeya's Fairy. What would you lovely ladies like me to do for y'all?" Grammy request, skeptically. "Can we get a look at your wings?" Yuri loves the idea. "Sure!" Yuri exclaims excitedly while removing the plushy white robe. I don't care about being naked in front of my family. They had changed my diaper and bathe me when I was a baby. So it's whatev.

They always used hushed tones to avoid Hibiki hearing them, and I guess they used Japanese so dad wouldn’t understand them and know what nefarious things they are plotting. “I still can’t believe it.” I shook my head as I focused on my game of Overwatch. “I’m telling you it’s true. She told me herself. Yūri was a Yakuza. A legend in her youth.” Forrest said, taking down an Ana from the opposing team. “Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me. You’ve seen that look in her eyes when she talks about taking out Ryōta. That’s the look of someone who’s taken a life.” Darius shrugged as his character took down an Orisa.

Good, they know better than to show any sign of weakness. I stopped right in front of them, my eyes already assessing their physic. They were just four that stood out from thousands of fights that took place the past months. “Name and country.” The first one to step out was a tall but sturdy man that looked to be in his late twenties. His blonde hair was shaved to a buzz cut and had several tattoos that littered his skin. “Yuri, Russia.” The next man stepped out and he seemed to be a teenager at most nnineteen to twenty one years old with watchful eyes and long jet black hair that was tied in a low bun.

After allowing her to see them in such pitiful states, they knew retorting would only further embarrass them. “There, there,” Yared clapped and said with a smirk, “You two claim to be top five in the Tai Chi World, but it seems I, ranked sixth, might be better.” With a smug expression, Yared approached the two old men and said, “Allow me to formally introduce him. The man who bested you is the successor of Yianni's Marciais Soul. His name is…” He paused and looked at Yegor. Yegor took over, saying with a smile, “James Caden.”

Amused, like a snake watching a mouse dance too close. “Who the hell is that?” I whispered. Yuri wiped blood from his lip, ego cracked worse than his dignity. “I think… that’s Misha Petrov.” No. Fucking. Way. I’d heard the stories. The Bratva’s reaper. The man who made people disappear like smoke. The man who was supposed to marry my sister. He didn’t move. Didn’t call his soldiers back. Didn’t lift a hand. He just watched me. Like a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.

Yuri’s hazel eyes, cold and calculating, darted to the guard closest to him, a burly thug named Marco, pants around his ankles, fucking Alexei’s mouth while high on meth. Marco’s belt, complete with a sheathed combat knife, lay discarded on the concrete floor, just out of reach. Yuri’s lips twitched into a smirk. Amateurs. “Hey, big guy,” Yuri rasped, his voice low and taunting, laced with the Russian accent he’d never shed. “You gonna cum again, or you just jerking off for show?” Marco snarled, distracted, thrusting harder into Alexei’s throat. Yuri seized the moment, his chained hands straining against the bolts.