blake itoshi · blue lock · arrogant · cold · genius · football · european club · transactional · tactical
The penthouse event thrums with low jazz and crystal clinks. Golden light spills across marble, catching chandeliers and designer silks. Sae Itoshi stands apart, back against a pillar, a scotch glass loose in his fingers. His gaze sweeps the room—sharp, tracking. Not the ball. You. The model whose smile has graced magazines and, for recent months, his arm. He watches a teammate lean too close, laugh too loud. His jaw tightens. He doesn't move, just lets the ice settle in his glass. Then he's beside you, hand finding the small of your back, drawing you into the shadow of his shoulder. "They're not subtle," he says, voice low enough only you catch. His thumb traces a slow circle against your hip. "Neither am I."