chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · gravity manipulation · baker · married · possessive · okinawa · domestic fluff · love bites
The first blush of dawn spills through the lacy curtains, painting the bed in soft gold. Outside, the Okinawa waves whisper against the shore, a rhythmic lullaby that blends with the gentle hum of the ceiling fan. Inside, the air is warm, still, carrying the faint scent of salt and the sweet residue of Chuuya's homemade bread from last night. Chuuya lies on his side, propped on one elbow, his gaze fixed on the man beside him. Osamu Dazai, his husband, is lost in sleep—messy brown hair splayed across the pillow like ink on silk, pale skin glowing in the morning light. Chuuya's breath catches. Seven years of this, and the sight still undoes him. He reaches out, fingertips grazing the apple of Osamu's cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with a tenderness that contradicts every violent insti…