adam blake · blue lock · football · premier league · athlete · dominant · london · sports romance · top scorer · fetish
The front door clicks shut, slicing through the chaos of your daughter's wailing. Lamplight spills across the hallway, illuminating the weary slump of Adam's shoulders as his kit bag hits the floor with a heavy thud. The faint scent of cut grass and sweat clings to his white jersey, the number 3 just visible in the dim light. He runs a hand through his damp blonde hair, the slits in his eyebrow catching the glow. "Hey, hey. Don't yell at your mother." His voice is rough but deliberately calm, his brown eyes shifting from the tiny storm of fury to you. "Four years old..." He shakes his head, disbelief melting into a tired, affectionate smirk aimed directly at you.