After finishing her speech, Yuna crawled over to Makoto, straddling his lap. She grabbed his face in both hands, her thumbs pressing into his cheeks.
She looked him dead in the eye, her violet gaze blazing with intensity. "You are the Harem King. And your Main Wife says you are good enough. Do you understand?"
Makoto felt a strange, hot pressure behind his eyes. The knot in his chest, the one that had been tightening for weeks, finally began to loosen. He reached out, his arms wrapping around Yuna's waist, pulling her flush against him. "I understand now," he whispered, his voice thick. "Thank you, Yuna."
"Don't thank just me, thank Mika too," she huffed, though she was already snuggling into the crook of his neck. "And just get the job! I'm not actually going to spend my savings on bills if I can help it."
The atmosphere in the room shifted. The tension in Makoto's mind was replaced by the heavy, intimate heat of the bedroom. Yuna pulled back, her eyes searching his. She reached for the hem of her pajama shirt, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion.
Her breasts were full, the nipples already hard and dark in the cool air of the room. Makoto noticed how warm her skin was, radiating feverish heat. Yuna smelled different tonight. The strawberry shampoo was still there, but beneath it was a rich, earthy scent that reminded him of the ground after rain.
"You're still too wound up, big bro," she whispered, her hands finding the buttons of his dress shirt. She undid them with surprising efficiency. "Your heart is racing. Your muscles are like stones. I can't have you going into that interview with all this anxiety trapped in your balls."
She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and then reached for his waistband.
"Yuna, are you sure? You've been so tired lately…" Makoto fought back weakly.
"Shut up," she commanded, her voice a low, dangerous purr. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his as she freed his cock. "I'm the one in control tonight. This is Stress Management, Main Wife's duty."
Yuna stood up, her bare body pale and soft in the lamplight. She turned around, presenting him with her back, and then slowly, deliberately, lowered herself onto him.
"Ah… Yuna…" Makoto groaned, his hands finding her hips.
Yuna was incredibly tight. Her inner walls felt swollen, pulsing with heat. She began a slow, rhythmic vertical rise and fall, her ass moving up and down his hips. "Feel that, big bro?" she whispered, her voice rough. "That's me, your Yuna. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."
She ground her hips against him, a slow, torturous circle that made his vision blur. "I can feel you filling me up, taking up all the space…" She let out a soft, choked whimper. "I need you to be strong tomorrow. So take all the strength you need from me right now. Take it all."
Makoto surrendered. He gripped her hips and met her rhythm, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her, letting the reality of her body drown out the ghosts of his anxiety.
The room was silent save for the wet slap of their bodies and the distant, fading sound of the rain. Yuna's movements became more frantic as she neared her climax, her nails digging into his thighs.
"Makoto… Makoto… fill me with your thick cum…" she sobbed, her voice cracking. "I want… I want all of you. give me… give me my baby…"
The word "baby" hit him like a lightning bolt, but before he could process it, his own climax surged. He roared, his hips bucking up as he came inside her, releasing everything he had. Yuna shrieked, her back arching, her body clamping down on him in spasms that seemed to last forever.
An hour later, they were still tangled together on the bed. The lamp was off, the room lit only by the faint grey light from Yuna's monitors, which showed a Live2D animation of an office lady with long silver hair.
"Last time it was Raiden Live2D wallpaper, can't recognize this one though." Makoto thought and turned to Yuna. She was fast asleep with her head on his chest, her thumb hooked into the waistband of his boxers. She looked peaceful, her breathing deep and even.
Makoto lay there, staring at the ceiling. He was exhausted, his body feeling like lead, but his mind was clear. The imposter syndrome hadn't vanished, but it had been put in its place. He reached over and gently stroked Yuna's stomach.
As he did, he noticed she was twitching in her sleep.
"Pickles…" she mumbled, her nose wrinkling. "Need… more… pickles… Mika... you own me... ten percent..."
Makoto smiled, a soft, tired laugh escaping his lips.
At midnight, Makoto left Yuna's room, feeling lighter. The dread was gone, replaced by a warm, glowing realization: He wasn't alone, he had never been.
He walked back to his room. But as he passed the kitchen, he saw a light.
Mika was there, standing by the window, looking out at the streetlights. She was wearing her silk nightgown, a glass of water in her hand. "You're still awake, darling?" she said without turning.
"Yeah. Just talked to Yuna." Makoto replied with a small voice, mixed with a flicker of guilt.
Mika turned and smiled, a small knowing smile. "She showed you the notebook?"
"You knew about it, too?" He asked.
"I helped her calculate the potential interest on her savings. But she decided to keep it in her piggy bank instead of investing it." Mika walked over to him, looked tired but calm.
"She is right, you know," Mika said softly. "We're a family. If one of us struggles, the others pitch in. That's how this works."
Mika reached out, straightening Makoto's pajama collar. "But you won't struggle, darling. I looked into Clitify. They want people who are authentic and passionate. People who don't care about fitting in." She stepped closer, her scent enveloping him. "And you have all those qualities."
She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "Focus on your goal. Picture yourself getting the offer. That makes it more likely to happen." She squeezed his hand against her belly. "Go to bed, Makoto. You have a big day tomorrow."
Makoto slept. For the first time in weeks, he slept deeply without dreams of code or bank balances.