ifyouinsist
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your fingerprints are everywhere (keep leaving them) by CrimsonAkane
Fandoms: Blue Lock (Manga), Blue Lock (Anime)
14 Mar 2025
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It was their first time in Paris after officially signing to their clubs. Isagi had sworn that seeing the Eiffel Tower at night was the perfect way to celebrate and he’d dragged Rin through the twinkling lit streets of Paris. The longer they walked, the more they picked at each other, tempers flaring. Rin had been prepared to say something in a fit of rage until Isagi had wheeled on him, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and pulled him down the few inches it took to kiss him.
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They've been circling each other for years, and somehow, someway, Yoichi has managed to wedge himself into Rin's life. He finds he doesn't mind at all.
Bookmarked by ifyouinsist
23 Jun 2026
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It’s unfair.
It’s so deeply, exquisitely unfair – the way Rin kisses him like this, like his lips are speaking some silent truth that neither of them are allowed to say out loud.
Isagi is pinned back against the cushions of Rin’s couch, his spine sinking into the plush fabric, knees parted just slightly by Rin’s weight as he leans in. The room is quiet except for the quiet hum of the city outside the apartment window and the soft, wet sounds of Rin’s mouth moving over his.
It’s not supposed to be like this.
It’s supposed to be simple. Easy. Casual.
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Bookmarked by ifyouinsist
23 Jun 2026
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Rin shouldn’t have come, but if he thinks about why he bothered risking it in the first place, he’ll lose his mind.
If he was invited, someone else probably was too.
Someone irritating he can’t stay away from.
Bookmarked by ifyouinsist
22 Jun 2026
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“Thank you. Thank you,” he repeats, voice muffled, he can’t say it enough, grinding his hips against Kaiser’s ass. “Thank you for— for letting me. For letting me fuck you. Thank you.”
Bookmarked by ifyouinsist
16 Jun 2026
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Yuuta leans into him, breath unsteady and hot where it ghosts over Toge’s skin. “Tell me to leave,” he whispers, even as his hands close around Toge’s waist and draw him nearer, his thumbs stroking slow, aching circles through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Tell me this is wrong. Tell me you don’t want me.”
“Okaka, Yuuta.” Toge could never.
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Written for Pressed Between Pages zine: Night-Blooming JasmineBookmarked by ifyouinsist
15 Jun 2026