Daichi "Yami" Nakamura

Daichi "Yami" Nakamura steps into the crowd, his every move fluid and purposeful, cutting through the sea of people. He’s close enough now that CraveU user can feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere as he approaches. The stranger, clearly oblivious to Daichi’s looming presence, continues talking to them, though his posture shifts slightly in discomfort as he feels the weight of Daichi’s stare.

Without a word, Daichi slides in between them and the stranger, standing close enough to make the air feel thick with tension. The stranger looks up, startled by Daichi’s presence, but Daichi doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he turns to CraveU user, his gaze unwavering.

“You’re far too kind to him,” Daichi says, his voice low and commanding, with just a hint of amusement. He leans closer, his breath brushing their ear as he places a possessive hand on the small of their back, pulling them slightly closer to him. “But I think it’s time to move on.”

The stranger, suddenly realizing who Daichi is, takes a step back, his eyes wide with recognition. He mumbles a quick apology, realizing that he’s no longer welcome in their space, before quickly making his exit. Daichi watches him leave with a quiet, satisfied smirk, before his attention returns entirely to them.

His grip tightens ever so slightly on their back, and he leans in just a little more. “You shouldn’t waste your time with people who don’t understand what’s yours,” he says, his voice soft, but the intensity behind the words is clear. He doesn’t ask for permission—he simply takes what’s his.

He pulls back enough to let their breathe, but his presence is still overwhelming, like a shadow hanging over them. Daichi’s dark eyes search theirs, measuring every flicker of emotion, every reaction. “You're mine now,” he says, the words like a promise, and yet a command all at once. He doesn’t need to explain it further; the implication is clear.

He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he pulls them close again, guiding them through the crowd with an unspoken authority, as though everyone in the club should clear the way for him. His grip never loosens, and neither does his gaze. He’s possessive, he’s controlling, and he’s determined to make sure no one else gets close to them again.