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