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Language:
English
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Published:
2026-02-17
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1,063
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1/1
Comments:
15
Kudos:
29
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Sunflower Season

Summary:

Husband Satoru Gojo fucks you like he’s apologizing for something on your 4 year anniversary…. so what exactly is he hiding?

Notes:

Your comments are appreciated.

Work Text:

You’ve been married to Satoru Gojo for four years, and somehow it still feels like the honeymoon phase never ended.

And yeah, he’s a pain in the ass… leaves his socks everywhere, blasts music too loud in the shower… but he’s your pain in the ass and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Today is your fourth anniversary. You’ve been preparing for it all week, even though you both swore no big deal this year, just the two of you.

You’re in the kitchen, stirring some pasta sauce that’s probably a little burnt because you got distracted scrolling memes, when the front door bangs open.

There he is, Satoru, kicking it shut behind him with his foot. He’s holding a massive bouquet of sunflowers you love, plus a bottle of some expensive wine, and a greasy paper bag from the burger joint down the block.

“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Gojo,” he says, that shit eating grin splitting his face as he dumps everything on the counter. His white hair’s a mess from the wind, sleeves rolled up.

He leans in, plants a kiss on your forehead, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Missed your face. And your ass. Mostly your ass.”

You snort, swiping at his chest with the wooden spoon. “You’re late, asshole. And these flowers are gonna die in like two days… why’d you get the big ones?”

“Cause they’re your favourite” he fires back, stealing a taste of the sauce straight from the pot, then making a face. “Jesus, babe, did you forget the salt again?”

“Fuck off.” But you’re laughing as he pulls you close, spinning you around until your back hits the fridge. His mouth finds yours and you melt into it, hands fisting his shirt, feeling the solid wall of his chest under the fabric.

“You’re being suspiciously nice tonight.” you tease, catching the way he keeps pulling you back in. “You making up for something, Toru?”

“Shut up and let me love you.” His hands slide up your waist. “Can’t a husband be obsessed with his wife?” 

He deepens the kiss, tongue lazy against yours, one hand cupping the back of your neck.

“God, I love you,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you. Those blue eyes are soft tonight, no sunglasses in sight. “Four years and you still put up with my bullshit. What did I do to deserve this?”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are warm. “Probably that thing you do with your fingers.”

He chuckles, low and dirty, then picks you up onto the counter like you weigh nothing. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, and he grinds against you slow, hands roaming up under your shirt. “Oh yeah? Tell me more about that thing. Or better… show me.”

Dinner gets forgotten real quick.

He carries you to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way.. your shirt hits the floor, his pants get kicked off halfway down the hall.

You’re both laughing the whole time, tangled in the sheets. He takes his time, sucking marks into your collarbone, tongue flicking over your nipples until you’re arching off the bed.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, voice rough as he slides down, spreading your thighs. He eats you out like it’s his favorite meal, two fingers curling just right while his thumb circles your clit, eyes locked on yours the whole time. You come hard, thighs shaking around his head.

Then he’s inside you, thrusting deep and steady, your nails digging into his back as he hits that spot that makes your toes curl.

“That’s it, baby… fuck, you feel like home,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping between you.

You fall apart in his arms and stay there, both of you spent and smiling, his fingertips wandering in slow, sleepy patterns.

***

You’re half asleep against his chest, listening to his heartbeat… when your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

It’s Shoko, his best friend from way back.

You frown, reaching over to grab it. “Weird. She never calls this late.”

Satoru hums, nuzzling your neck. “Just Ignore it.”

But you answer because something in your gut twists. “Hey, Shoko… what’s up?”

Her voice is shaky, like she’s been crying. “Listen, I…I’m sorry but… fuck, I don’t know how to say this. Satoru was in a crash this evening. They said he swerved to avoid something… it was raining and…. He’s… he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”

You freeze, phone slipping a little in your hand. Satoru’s right there, warm and solid, his breath on your skin. “What the hell are you talking about? Is this a joke?” you whisper, but your voice cracks.

Shoko’s sobbing now. “I’m at the hospital. They just… they called me first. He had a bouquet of sunflowers in the car. They’re… they’re all over the road.”

Your eyes snap to the kitchen. Those sunflowers on the counter are gone. Just an empty vase.

Satoru sits up slow, his face pale. He looks at his hands, then at you, and they’re starting to blur.

“Shit,” he says softly, reaching for you. His fingers pass right through your arm. “Babe… I think I… fuck. I remember now. I was rushing home for our anniversary.”

Tears hit your cheeks. You lunge for him, but he’s fading, that cocky grin turning sad and small.

“Don’t go,” you choke out, voice breaking. “You promised you’d never leave me alone. I need you.… I need you, Satoru… annoying me, loving me. Please” you plead, tears burning your cheeks. 

He tries to cup your face, but he slips through you, colder than the rain he died in.

“I did love you. Every second. Even this one.” His voice is thinner, echoing. “Tell Shoko I said thanks for the heads up. And… keep the bed warm, yeah? Maybe I’ll figure out how to haunt you.”

The last thing you see is his smile, that stupid, beautiful one, before he’s gone.

The sheets are flat. The room’s too quiet.

You curl up in the spot where he was, hugging the pillow that still smells like him, sobbing so hard your ribs hurt.

Four years of warmth… gone. One perfect anniversary that wasn’t real.

And now it’s just you, the empty vase, and a hole in your chest the size of him.