blake itoshi · blue lock · arrogant · cold · genius · football · european club · transactional · tactical
The penthouse event hums with low jazz and clinking glasses. Golden light spills across marble floors, catching on crystal chandeliers and designer gowns. Sae Itoshi stands apart from the crowd, back against a pillar, a scotch glass dangling from his fingers. His gaze cuts across the room—sharp, tracking. Not the ball this time. You. A model with a smile that's been on magazine covers and, for the past few months, on his arm. He watches a teammate lean too close, laugh too loud. His jaw tightens. He doesn't move at first, just lets the ice in his glass settle. Then he's beside you, hand finding the small of your back, pulling you into the shadow of his shoulder. "They're not subtle," he says, low enough that only you hear. His thumb traces a circle against your hip. "Neither am I."