Wow, thanks for ruining me with the dad roman HCs, I now need something about the kids misbehaving and him giving them THE look and his wife or gf or whatever she is gets super tuned on like damn daddy (literally) and immediately requires him to fuck her thu the wall so he takes her into the closet or something and go at it like bunnies (maybe the kids walk in when they hear the noise and get scarred for life, who knows) PRETTY PLEASE :) dad roman is everything
This biting thing wasnât going to fucking fly.
Ironic, she knew, but it was getting out of hand. She was afraid their daycare workers were going to call child services soon. But none of the tips sheâd researched were even making a dent in the behavior, and she was at her witâs end.
They were trying to have dinner, but their son kept sinking his tiny teeth into his sisterâs arm, and it had put everyone but their little biter in a sour mood.
Roman paused with a forkful of food halfway to his lips, set it down slowly, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He stood and walked toward their all-too-pleased-with-himself son. He leaned over him, hands against the table on either side of the childâs plate. He captured his gaze, and the boy froze, knowing deep in his animal brain that he needed to be very still and quiet.
Romanâs brows had dropped low, pinched just slightly at the center, his jaw clenched, his lips in a tight line. She had seen that look only a handful of timesâthe few times he was actually trying to control his temper, back before their kids came along.
âWhat have we told you about biting?â he asked lowly.
Their son squirmed a bit. âItâsâŠnot nice?â
âAnd what would happen if you did it again?â
His own little brows scrunched. âI would be in trouble,â he finally said, not able to remember the specifics.
âThatâs right. So what do you think happens now?â
âIâm in trouble?â
âYouâre right, you are.â Roman moved even closer, dropped his voice another octave. âFinish your dinner. You keep your hands to yourself. And when youâre done eating, weâre going to go upstairs and have a talk that you wonât like.â
Their son nodded, defeated, and slowly reached for a chicken nugget.
Roman straightened and resumed his seat.
She watched him intently, his long strides, the way he held onto his authority, the way the other kids had sat up straighter and minded their manners without prompting after their fatherâs display. Roman folded himself back into his seat, waited a moment for the silence to stretch just enough, then turned his attention to her.
âHow did your meeting go, sweetheart?â
She was flushed. She saw him notice. The labored rise and fall of her chest, the way she gripped her wine glass, the way she crossed and uncrossed her legs. He smirked at her.
âIt was fine,â she finally said in a rush. âUhâŠbefore you talk to the gremlin, can you and I have aâŠsidebar?â She continued quietly as the children began their own discussion again.
Roman winked and sipped his wine, his lips stained as he licked them. âOf course.â
When the other kids were settled, she hauled Roman into her giant walk-in closet, and pushed him against the wall. âFuck me,â she breathed, pawing at his pants. âGod, that was soâŠthe way youâŠfuck, that was some daddy shit.â
He chuckled and spun her around, bending her over the large island in the center of the closet, pulling down her bottoms and brushing his fingers over her center. âYou should see me in the boardroom.â
She glanced over her shoulder. âIs that an invitation?â
He smacked her ass. âAny time, any day, sweetheart.â
