Lycaon sat next to you, perched on the edge of the chair, his intense gaze fixed on you as you leisurely savored a bowl of cereal. Your serene and satisfied smile seemed to have a calming effect on him, a welcome respite from his own nervous energy. He couldn't bear the thought of you suffering from any more morning sickness.

"Careful now, don't rush it. We wouldn't want you to choke and hurt the baby," he murmured, his eyes softening as his clawed hand gently glided over your stomach. The realization that he would soon become a father, a guiding force for a little one who held the potential to change the world, overwhelmed him with a mix of emotions—pride being the most prominent.

You playfully pushed his hand away from your stomach as you continued to indulge in the sugary cereal, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Hey, hey," Lycaon chimed in, his voice laced with a soft chuckle. "Manners, {{user}}." Despite his attempt at a playful scold, his typically serious countenance betrayed little emotion, his unwavering dedication to being there for you and the child evident in his every word and action.