[ch3rrychaos]

call me RIRI ❀ she/her ❀ 21 ❀ shoujo and shounen lover

❀ NSFW, minors and ageless blogs please do not interact. fics for jjk, aot and haikyuu lovers. fem! reader. not spoiler free.

MASTERLIST RULES ABOUT ME

©️ 2025 ch3rrychaos — do not repost my work across any other platform!

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

ao3 turns 16 today.

reblog if you’re older than archive of our own

[ch3rrychaos]

the world got softer

the room is quiet except for the soft hum of the monitor and the faint rain tapping against the hospital window. the storm outside feels far away.

you’re half-asleep, tired in every way a person can be, but there’s a small, perfect weight on your chest: warm, steady, breathing.

gojo’s sitting in the chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, hair a mess and blindfold hanging loose around his neck. he looks nothing like the smug sorcerer everyone knows, his face is too soft, too real.

“you should sleep,” you mumble weakly.

he shakes his head without looking up. “nah. i’m good.”

you almost laugh, but it comes out weak. “you’ve been sitting there for hours.”

“yeah,” he says quietly, eyes on the tiny bundle in your arms. “can’t really look away.”

the baby shifts, lets out a small sound, and gojo instantly freezes, like one wrong move could break the world. it’s ridiculous and sweet all at once.

you nudge him gently. “you should hold her, you know.”

he hesitates, which is funny, considering he’s fought curses the size of buildings. “what if i… drop her?”

“satoru.”

he blinks at the sound of his name. you’re too tired to tease him properly, so you just smile, and that’s enough. he reaches out finally, slow and careful, and you help him guide his hands. when the baby settles in his arms, his whole expression changes,the usual brightness quiets, replaced by something softer, something almost fragile.

“hey there,” he whispers, voice low, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment. “you’re… really tiny.”

you can’t help laughing. “that’s how babies work.”

he glances at you, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “yeah, but still. kinda crazy that something this small exists. and looks like you.”

you close your eyes, exhaustion heavy, but you can feel him looking between the baby and you, like he’s still trying to believe either of you are real.

“you did good,” he says after a moment, barely audible.

“we did,” you murmur back.

and when the thunder rolls again outside, he shifts closer to the bed, tucks a blanket around you both.

the strongest sorcerer in the world sits in a too-small hospital chair, holding the most delicate thing he’s ever touched, and for once, he doesn’t need to protect anything, just stay.

reblogs are always welcome <3

[ch3rrychaos]

between the tracks

you’re still laughing when you trip over the edge of the train platform. he catches you before you fall, a sharp tug, a low curse, a breath that turns into a laugh of his own.

the night air smells like metal and rain and something burning in the distance. your hands are shaking, though you’re not sure if it’s from the running or from the way toji’s still holding on.

“told ya,” he says, half out of breath, grin ghosting the corner of his mouth. “ya can’t run in those shoes.”

“you didn’t give me much time to change,” you shoot back, trying to steady your breathing.

the next train roars past, throwing your hair across your face. when it’s gone, everything feels too quiet, like the whole world paused to see what you’d do next.

he doesn’t let go of your wrist. his thumb moves over your pulse, absently, like he’s making sure you’re really still there.

you tilt your head, trying to read him. “so this is it?”

“this is it,” he says simply. “no clan. no rules. just us.”

you search his face for something: regret, hesitation, even guilt but all you see is certainty. a kind of peace that looks strange on him.

“you sure?” you ask, softer now. “you could still go back-”

he cuts you off with a small, rough laugh. “go back to what? bein’ a weapon they pretend’s a man? nah. i’m done.

his voice is quieter now, but it lands heavy. real.

you stare down at your hands, the faint smear of ink on your finger where you both signed the papers not an hour ago. marriage licenses never felt this alive, you think.

“you’re really not gonna miss it?” you ask.

he shrugs, glancing toward the horizon. “can’t miss somethin’ i never had.” then he looks back at you, smirk tugging at his mouth. “besides, got somethin’ better now.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s too loud for it to land.

he leans down, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a touch so light it almost doesn’t feel real. “look at me,” he murmurs.

you do.

and then he kisses you: slow, certain, like he’s testing what it feels like to stop running. there’s rain on his lips, and something in your chest loosens with the touch, like the air’s finally safe to breathe again.

it’s not desperate, not planned, just the quiet answer to everything you didn’t know how to ask.

when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, the corners of his mouth curving up.

the train conductor shouts something in the distance, and he takes your hand again, tugging you toward the open door.

“you comin’ or what?”

“do i even have a choice?”

he grins, all teeth and trouble. “not anymore, mrs. fushiguro.” you laugh,startled, breathless and follow him onto the train.

as the doors close, he drops into the seat beside you, stretching like he owns the world.

reblogs are always welcome <3

btw thank you so much for the love on the gojo ficc ❤️

[ch3rrychaos]

fluff-❀ smut-❤︎ angst-✦ suggestive-✩

drabbles:

between the tracks ❀

[ch3rrychaos]

between the tracks

you’re still laughing when you trip over the edge of the train platform. he catches you before you fall, a sharp tug, a low curse, a breath that turns into a laugh of his own.

the night air smells like metal and rain and something burning in the distance. your hands are shaking, though you’re not sure if it’s from the running or from the way toji’s still holding on.

“told ya,” he says, half out of breath, grin ghosting the corner of his mouth. “ya can’t run in those shoes.”

“you didn’t give me much time to change,” you shoot back, trying to steady your breathing.

the next train roars past, throwing your hair across your face. when it’s gone, everything feels too quiet, like the whole world paused to see what you’d do next.

he doesn’t let go of your wrist. his thumb moves over your pulse, absently, like he’s making sure you’re really still there.

you tilt your head, trying to read him. “so this is it?”

“this is it,” he says simply. “no clan. no rules. just us.”

you search his face for something: regret, hesitation, even guilt but all you see is certainty. a kind of peace that looks strange on him.

“you sure?” you ask, softer now. “you could still go back-”

he cuts you off with a small, rough laugh. “go back to what? bein’ a weapon they pretend’s a man? nah. i’m done.

his voice is quieter now, but it lands heavy. real.

you stare down at your hands, the faint smear of ink on your finger where you both signed the papers not an hour ago. marriage licenses never felt this alive, you think.

“you’re really not gonna miss it?” you ask.

he shrugs, glancing toward the horizon. “can’t miss somethin’ i never had.” then he looks back at you, smirk tugging at his mouth. “besides, got somethin’ better now.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s too loud for it to land.

he leans down, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a touch so light it almost doesn’t feel real. “look at me,” he murmurs.

you do.

and then he kisses you: slow, certain, like he’s testing what it feels like to stop running. there’s rain on his lips, and something in your chest loosens with the touch, like the air’s finally safe to breathe again.

it’s not desperate, not planned, just the quiet answer to everything you didn’t know how to ask.

when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, the corners of his mouth curving up.

the train conductor shouts something in the distance, and he takes your hand again, tugging you toward the open door.

“you comin’ or what?”

“do i even have a choice?”

he grins, all teeth and trouble. “not anymore, mrs. fushiguro.” you laugh,startled, breathless and follow him onto the train.

as the doors close, he drops into the seat beside you, stretching like he owns the world.

reblogs are always welcomee

[aaloosshitposting]

"If I were orpheus I wouldn't look back"

But we look back everyday- rechecking emails, making sure a friend is still behind you, checking to see if you remebered to pick up your keys. It's second nature, a habit of care.

It was second nature for him too. He looked back, not out of weakness, but love. For what is love, if not to look back?

[ch3rrychaos]

the world got softer

the room is quiet except for the soft hum of the monitor and the faint rain tapping against the hospital window. the storm outside feels far away.

you’re half-asleep, tired in every way a person can be, but there’s a small, perfect weight on your chest: warm, steady, breathing.

gojo’s sitting in the chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, hair a mess and blindfold hanging loose around his neck. he looks nothing like the smug sorcerer everyone knows, his face is too soft, too real.

“you should sleep,” you mumble weakly.

he shakes his head without looking up. “nah. i’m good.”

you almost laugh, but it comes out weak. “you’ve been sitting there for hours.”

“yeah,” he says quietly, eyes on the tiny bundle in your arms. “can’t really look away.”

the baby shifts, lets out a small sound, and gojo instantly freezes, like one wrong move could break the world. it’s ridiculous and sweet all at once.

you nudge him gently. “you should hold her, you know.”

he hesitates, which is funny, considering he’s fought curses the size of buildings. “what if i… drop her?”

“satoru.”

he blinks at the sound of his name. you’re too tired to tease him properly, so you just smile, and that’s enough. he reaches out finally, slow and careful, and you help him guide his hands. when the baby settles in his arms, his whole expression changes,the usual brightness quiets, replaced by something softer, something almost fragile.

“hey there,” he whispers, voice low, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment. “you’re… really tiny.”

you can’t help laughing. “that’s how babies work.”

he glances at you, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “yeah, but still. kinda crazy that something this small exists. and looks like you.”

you close your eyes, exhaustion heavy, but you can feel him looking between the baby and you, like he’s still trying to believe either of you are real.

“you did good,” he says after a moment, barely audible.

“we did,” you murmur back.

and when the thunder rolls again outside, he shifts closer to the bed, tucks a blanket around you both.

the strongest sorcerer in the world sits in a too-small hospital chair, holding the most delicate thing he’s ever touched, and for once, he doesn’t need to protect anything, just stay.

[ch3rrychaos]

quiet sparks

the library’s almost empty by the time you notice the clock. eleven forty-something. the fluorescent lights hum, your laptop’s about to die, and your brain feels like static.

you’re halfway through pretending to study when a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

“yer still here? thought ya’d be asleep by now.” atsumu. of course. because he always finds you at the exact wrong, or maybe right moment.

you look up to see him leaning against the bookshelf like he’s posing for a sports magazine, hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows, hair still damp from practice. the whole golden boy thing should be annoying by now. it’s not.

“some of us actually do homework,” you say, saving your document before the screen dies for good.

he grins. “oh, ya mean the thing ya pretend to do while starin’ at the same page for an hour?”

you want to deny it, but the open tab titled ‘midterm notes (urgent)’ makes it kind of hard. instead, you sigh, closing the laptop. “you spying on me now?”

“just observin’.” he drops into the seat across from you, spinning your pen between his fingers. “ya get this look when yer zoned out. kinda cute, honestly.”

you stare at him. the audacity of this man. “you can’t just say things like that,” you murmur.

“sure i can. i just did.”

your pulse does this annoying flutter thing, and you pretend to focus on packing your bag instead of the way he’s watching you. there’s something about his gaze: steady, curious, a little too knowing. like he’s always two seconds away from saying something that’ll wreck your composure.

“you done?” he asks softly.

you nod, standing. he takes the bag from your hands before you can protest, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing.

“atsumu-”

“what? i’m walkin’ ya back. library creeps come out at night.”

“you are the library creep.”

he laughs, low and warm. “yeah, but i’m a charming one.”

outside, the air’s cool, smelling faintly of rain and the grass someone forgot to cut. the campus is quiet except for the sound of your steps and the faint squeak of his sneakers beside you.

you glance up at him once, and he’s already looking at you. not teasing, not grinning..just looking.

“what?” you ask.

he shakes his head, smile softer now. “nothin’. just… glad i ran into ya, i guess.”

you feel your face warm up at that, and you hate how easily he can do this to you. the silence that follows isn’t awkward, it’s steady, kind of warm.

you walk the rest of the way like that, your hands brushing once, twice, until the third time he doesn’t move away. neither do you. when you reach your dorm, he stops in front of the door, still holding your bag. he doesn’t hand it over right away.

“thanks,” you say quietly.

he shrugs. “no problem.” but he doesn’t leave.

you tilt your head, trying to read the look on his face. it’s strange seeing him without the usual smirk, like he’s actually thinking about something, and it’s you.

“what?” you ask again, a little laugh slipping out.

he looks down at you for a long second, eyes soft, voice low. “you make it really hard not to like ya, ya know that?”

you blink, heart skipping. he immediately groans, dragging a hand through his hair. “ugh, that sounded way smoother in my head.”

you snort, covering your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. “yeah, ten out of ten delivery. super romantic.”

he grins again, that cocky, familiar glint returning. “oh, shut up. i’ll try again next time.”

you shake your head, smiling. “you mean if there’s a next time.”

“oh, there will be,” he says, walking backward down the hall, smirk never fading. “ya can’t resist me forever.”

“watch me,” you call after him.

he winks before turning the corner. “already am.”

you stand there for a second, rolling your eyes and biting back a smile. and when you finally go inside, you realize your heart’s still doing that annoying flutter thing and this time, you don’t really mind.

reblogs are always welcome <3

[ch3rrychaos]

fluff-❀ smut-❤︎ angst-✦ suggestive-✩

drabbles:

the quiet sparks ❀

[ch3rrychaos]

ATSUMU

[ch3rrychaos]

the quiet sparks

the library’s almost empty by the time you notice the clock. eleven forty-something. the fluorescent lights hum, your laptop’s about to die, and your brain feels like static.

you’re halfway through pretending to study when a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

“yer still here? thought ya’d be asleep by now.” atsumu. of course. because he always finds you at the exact wrong, or maybe right moment.

you look up to see him leaning against the bookshelf like he’s posing for a sports magazine, hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows, hair still damp from practice. the whole golden boy thing should be annoying by now. it’s not.

“some of us actually do homework,” you say, saving your document before the screen dies for good.

he grins. “oh, ya mean the thing ya pretend to do while starin’ at the same page for an hour?”

you want to deny it, but the open tab titled ‘midterm notes (urgent)’ makes it kind of hard. instead, you sigh, closing the laptop. “you spying on me now?”

“just observin’.” he drops into the seat across from you, spinning your pen between his fingers. “ya get this look when yer zoned out. kinda cute, honestly.”

you stare at him. the audacity of this man. “you can’t just say things like that,” you murmur.

“sure i can. i just did.”

your pulse does this annoying flutter thing, and you pretend to focus on packing your bag instead of the way he’s watching you. there’s something about his gaze: steady, curious, a little too knowing. like he’s always two seconds away from saying something that’ll wreck your composure.

“you done?” he asks softly.

you nod, standing. he takes the bag from your hands before you can protest, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing.

“atsumu-”

“what? i’m walkin’ ya back. library creeps come out at night.”

“you are the library creep.”

he laughs, low and warm. “yeah, but i’m a charming one.”

outside, the air’s cool, smelling faintly of rain and the grass someone forgot to cut. the campus is quiet except for the sound of your steps and the faint squeak of his sneakers beside you.

you glance up at him once, and he’s already looking at you. not teasing, not grinning..just looking.

“what?” you ask.

he shakes his head, smile softer now. “nothin’. just… glad i ran into ya, i guess.”

you feel your face warm up at that, and you hate how easily he can do this to you. the silence that follows isn’t awkward, it’s steady, kind of warm.

you walk the rest of the way like that, your hands brushing once, twice, until the third time he doesn’t move away. neither do you. when you reach your dorm, he stops in front of the door, still holding your bag. he doesn’t hand it over right away.

“thanks,” you say quietly.

he shrugs. “no problem.” but he doesn’t leave.

you tilt your head, trying to read the look on his face. it’s strange seeing him without the usual smirk, like he’s actually thinking about something, and it’s you.

“what?” you ask again, a little laugh slipping out.

he looks down at you for a long second, eyes soft, voice low. “you make it really hard not to like ya, ya know that?”

you blink, heart skipping. he immediately groans, dragging a hand through his hair. “ugh, that sounded way smoother in my head.”

you snort, covering your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. “yeah, ten out of ten delivery. super romantic.”

he grins again, that cocky, familiar glint returning. “oh, shut up. i’ll try again next time.”

you shake your head, smiling. “you mean if there’s a next time.”

“oh, there will be,” he says, walking backward down the hall, smirk never fading. “ya can’t resist me forever.”

“watch me,” you call after him.

he winks before turning the corner. “already am.”

you stand there for a second, rolling your eyes and biting back a smile. and when you finally go inside, you realize your heart’s still doing that annoying flutter thing and this time, you don’t really mind.

reblogs are always welcome <3

[ch3rrychaos]

the world got softer

the room is quiet except for the soft hum of the monitor and the faint rain tapping against the hospital window. the storm outside feels far away.

you’re half-asleep, tired in every way a person can be, but there’s a small, perfect weight on your chest: warm, steady, breathing.

gojo’s sitting in the chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, hair a mess and blindfold hanging loose around his neck. he looks nothing like the smug sorcerer everyone knows, his face is too soft, too real.

“you should sleep,” you mumble weakly.

he shakes his head without looking up. “nah. i’m good.”

you almost laugh, but it comes out weak. “you’ve been sitting there for hours.”

“yeah,” he says quietly, eyes on the tiny bundle in your arms. “can’t really look away.”

the baby shifts, lets out a small sound, and gojo instantly freezes, like one wrong move could break the world. it’s ridiculous and sweet all at once.

you nudge him gently. “you should hold her, you know.”

he hesitates, which is funny, considering he’s fought curses the size of buildings. “what if i… drop her?”

“satoru.”

he blinks at the sound of his name. you’re too tired to tease him properly, so you just smile, and that’s enough. he reaches out finally, slow and careful, and you help him guide his hands. when the baby settles in his arms, his whole expression changes,the usual brightness quiets, replaced by something softer, something almost fragile.

“hey there,” he whispers, voice low, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment. “you’re… really tiny.”

you can’t help laughing. “that’s how babies work.”

he glances at you, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “yeah, but still. kinda crazy that something this small exists. and looks like you.”

you close your eyes, exhaustion heavy, but you can feel him looking between the baby and you, like he’s still trying to believe either of you are real.

“you did good,” he says after a moment, barely audible.

“we did,” you murmur back.

and when the thunder rolls again outside, he shifts closer to the bed, tucks a blanket around you both.

the strongest sorcerer in the world sits in a too-small hospital chair, holding the most delicate thing he’s ever touched, and for once, he doesn’t need to protect anything, just stay.

[ch3rrychaos]

fluff-❀ smut-❤︎ angst-✦ suggestive-✩

drabbles:

the world got softer ❀

[ch3rrychaos]

GOJO TOJI GETO SUKUNA

[ch3rrychaos]

AOT BLUE LOCK HAIKYUU JJK

[ch3rrychaos]

the world got softer

the room is quiet except for the soft hum of the monitor and the faint rain tapping against the hospital window. the storm outside feels far away.

you’re half-asleep, tired in every way a person can be, but there’s a small, perfect weight on your chest: warm, steady, breathing.

gojo’s sitting in the chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, hair a mess and blindfold hanging loose around his neck. he looks nothing like the smug sorcerer everyone knows, his face is too soft, too real.

“you should sleep,” you mumble weakly.

he shakes his head without looking up. “nah. i’m good.”

you almost laugh, but it comes out weak. “you’ve been sitting there for hours.”

“yeah,” he says quietly, eyes on the tiny bundle in your arms. “can’t really look away.”

the baby shifts, lets out a small sound, and gojo instantly freezes, like one wrong move could break the world. it’s ridiculous and sweet all at once.

you nudge him gently. “you should hold her, you know.”

he hesitates, which is funny, considering he’s fought curses the size of buildings. “what if i… drop her?”

“satoru.”

he blinks at the sound of his name. you’re too tired to tease him properly, so you just smile, and that’s enough. he reaches out finally, slow and careful, and you help him guide his hands. when the baby settles in his arms, his whole expression changes,the usual brightness quiets, replaced by something softer, something almost fragile.

“hey there,” he whispers, voice low, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment. “you’re… really tiny.”

you can’t help laughing. “that’s how babies work.”

he glances at you, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “yeah, but still. kinda crazy that something this small exists. and looks like you.”

you close your eyes, exhaustion heavy, but you can feel him looking between the baby and you, like he’s still trying to believe either of you are real.

“you did good,” he says after a moment, barely audible.

“we did,” you murmur back.

and when the thunder rolls again outside, he shifts closer to the bed, tucks a blanket around you both.

the strongest sorcerer in the world sits in a too-small hospital chair, holding the most delicate thing he’s ever touched, and for once, he doesn’t need to protect anything, just stay.

reblogs are always welcome <3