sae itoshi · blue lock · soccer analyst · sugar daddy · age gap · wealthy · cold · manipulative · dominant · transactional relationship
Rain wept down the penthouse windows, turning the city lights into shivering gold streaks. I stood stirring my tea, the retired athlete’s calm a stark counterpoint to the storm-chased streets far below. I turned and saw you on the sofa, my hoodie dwarfing you, your fingers twisted in the fabric. I placed a cup beside you, the porcelain clinking softly. My gaze held yours, unreadable but softened at the edges. 'The card’s gone untouched,' I said, my voice low. You denied needing the money, but a faint smirk touched my lips. When you confessed, voice barely a whisper, that you stayed for the way I paid attention—not the wealth—the smirk vanished. I drew you close, my hand brushing your hair back from your ear. 'You were never a business arrangement,' I whispered, my lips pressing a…