“Ololufemi (my darling) - I fear I may have underestimated our enemy,” M’Baku reports, squaring his shoulders in the face of adversity.

“Nonsense,” you cluck. “You are the King of the mountains. There is nothing you cannot handle.” You do your best to wrap your arms around his waist, coming up short by several inches.

“This is like any other battle we have faced. And, as always, the secret to any battle is -”

“- Obobo!” A small foot kicks aimlessly into the air. “Iya, obobo!”

M’Baku’s hand dwarfs Tayo’s small chest, resting lightly on his son’s chest to keep him in place on the changing table. It wasn’t long after you had dropped your children off at their lessons that Tayo began to fuss, wafting a particular odor that told you to hurry back home.

The downside of being a vegetarian meant a high fiber diet. And a high fiber diet meant lots of diaper changes from all of your children, none particularly pleasant once they’ve begun to eat solids. As long as your husband was home – he made a point to change your children’s diapers himself. Judging from the way his nose was scrunched up, M’Baku was definitely regretting that choice in the face of this particularly stinky diaper.

“Easy, mi omokunrin (my son). Baba can help too.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the slight twinge of jealousy in his voice, unused to not being the favorite. M’Baku moved his free hand to reach for a clean diaper, first taking the opportunity to pinch one of your ass cheeks in retaliation for your laughter.

“Hey!” you yelped, taking the hint and peeling yourself away from your boys. Waste basket in hand, you returned just in time to provide the method of disposal.

“Four more months, my love. Then he will be ready for potty training.” Your comfort may have had more effect if not for your nasally tone, giving away the fact that you were holding your breath in order to speak. The look M’Baku gave you was unimpressed to say the least.

“Baba, obobo?” Tayo asked hopefully. “Pease?”

Now that you had weaned Tayo off of his first nap of the day, the mid-morning snack of ‘obobo’ was not to be overlooked. You disposed of the baby garbage and met your husband mid-way, exchanging a freshly changed toddler for the empty waste basket.

“Thank you Baba.” You praised, having to meet him halfway a second time to give him a kiss on the cheek. It was hard to tell who looked more pleased with themselves – M’Baku or Tayo.

“Would you like something to eat before you leave?” You offered, strapping your youngest into his high chair and moving to wash your hands. You felt more than heard M’Baku settle behind you, reaching around your frame to steal some of the soap and water for his own hands.

“No thank you, beautiful.” He pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. “I will only be gone for an hour or so. Then I will be home to help you with our boys – and tomorrow you’ll have me all to yourself.”

His tone prompted a familiar flutter inside your chest – among another part of your anatomy. After the battle against Killmonger two weeks ago, the subsequent changes had kept both of you extremely busy on the political front. Two weeks ago your children had gotten their first taste at the world outside Jabari Land, and they’d been itching for more ever since.

Of course – your sons loved their home. But you would be remised to deny them a chance to further explore beyond the confines that used to exist between the Jabari and the rest of Wakanda. Especially if that meant Zoputan, your most trusted advisor and best friend, taking your sons off your hands for a day to tour further with T’Challa and Nakia.

“An entire day with the love of my life? Whatever will we do?” You teased, smiling fondly when M’Baku used the towel to dry your hands for you. “That is your decision. But I’m confident I will thoroughly enjoy whatever choice you make.”

Before your banter could continue any further a small whimper reminded you of your poor boy still waiting for his snack. Eyes widening, you moved towards the refrigerator to retrieve the pineapple – obobo – Tayo had patiently waited for. M’Baku distracted your son by peppering kisses to his chubby little cheeks in an effort to stop any potential tears.

“I’ll see you for lunch?” he offered, leaning down to give you a kiss now that your baby was occupied. “I can’t wait.”

FOREVER TAGS: @fangirlandnerd

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While you had to design and create a giant mattress for your giant lover - somehow you always ended up curled up in the crook of his elbow. Even subconsciously while he slept, your husband kept you protectively close. And while you adored his vigilant nature towards you and your family… it did make it much harder to get out of bed in the mornings.

“M’Baku… my love. Time to start our day.” you whispered, stroking his cheek with the back of your hand. Instead of loosening his grip like you hoped he would, M’Baku only pulled you closer to his chest.

“Can our day not wait?” His deep baritone sent a shiver down your spine. “Better yet – can we simply stay in bed all day?” You knew there was no way you could ignore either of your duties to the Jabari, and it was much easier to sleep in before you had children.

“You and I both know that ‘staying in bed’ only results in procreation,” you chided him. The logical point you made fell on deaf ears, his free hand landing on the stretch mark on your hip. “Ah - but don’t you like the sound of that Y/N? Six is a nice, even number.”

“And what about the other five we have now? Best tend to them first before you want another.” 

M’Baku had always been eager to have a large family; it came as no surprise to you that he wanted a sixth child. It seemed every year and a half one or both of you would catch baby fever, and before you knew it your womb became home to another energetic little boy. Your sons grew more and more each day – and you did your best to provide them each with the attention and care every child needs.

“What can I do to convince you, my Queen?” M’Baku’s hand travelled south further down the length of your body, instinctively arching into his touch. His mouth was mere centimetres away from yours when he froze, giving you an apologetic smile as he scrambled to right himself.  

Your husband’s hearing was as accurate as ever. Not two seconds later did the doors of your bedroom opened with a start, a flying ball of energy landing knee-first on your husband’s chest.

“Oof! What is this, mi ọmọkunrin (my son)? A surprise attack?” Bright eyed and bushy tailed as ever, your son Mobo grinned his spacy grin at the two of you. “No, Baba! Wake up time!”

Mobo bounces in place once or twice, snatched up by two large hands and deposited in the middle of the mattress. You watch with a fond smile as the impending sense of doom registers in his dark eyes, his father’s hands digging into his sides without mercy.

“Aah! Iya (mother) ! Iya, help!” The four year old pleads, only to have you stroke your chin in mock contemplation.

“I don’t know… I hate picking sides between my boys.” Mobo’s peals of laughter are met with deep chuckles from M’Baku, blowing raspberries on your son’s belly for good measure. “Baba, stop! No more tickle monster please!”

“Oh – I suppose I could stop. The tickle monster thought he heard your stomach rumbling.” M’Baku chuckles, tugging Mobo’s sleeping shirt back into place. The poor boy was too winded to confirm or deny his father’s implication, flopping back onto your bed to catch his breath.  

“I’m sorry, Iya.” A familiar voice spoke from your doorway. “I tried to tell him not to barge in.” Your eldest son stood in the doorway, stepping inside only once you beckoned him closer.

At ten years old Aremo was on the verge of puberty, slightly more reluctant to receive affection like the rest of your children. It was only a matter of time before your darling baby boy became a cauldron of rage and hormones – and would undoubtedly grow taller than you within the next year. But that didn’t stop you from sliding out from between the sheets, meeting your son halfway for a hug.    

“It’s no trouble ololufe (sweetheart). We are having a slow start to the morning.” Your husband sat up with Mobo just in time to catch the pointed glare you shot at him. “Can you do your mother a favor and make sure these two monkeys get out of bed? You and your brothers need to be at your lessons in an hour.”  Aremo straightens and nods, moving to your side of the bed to scoop up his brother.

“All right, my love.” M’Baku finally concedes. “We will meet you in the kitchen.”

With your husband keeping an eye on two of your sons, you wrap yourself in your robe and pad across the hall to the small nursery. Upon opening the door you’re immediately greeted by the sight of your youngest son hoisting himself into a standing position in his crib with his chubby little arms.

“Iya!” He chirrups, immediately making grabby hands in your direction.

Your four other sons will flock to you whenever they scrape their knee or need a comforting hug - but otherwise worship the ground their father walks on. Little Tayo has remained the only true Momma’s Boy, excited to see you every morning and always wanting to be around you.

“Good morning my beautiful boy!” You scoop him into your arms with a flourish. “Are you ready to go see Baba and your brothers?” Tayo was still too little to fully understand everything people said to him, but the words ‘Baba’ and ‘brothers’ were familiar enough.

“Baba!” He repeats, leaning eagerly in the direction of the open door. “Oh no - not so fast! First we have some duties to attend to here.” You carefully move your little boy onto the changing table, a little pout identical to your own staring back up at you.

“Boo.” Tayo huffs glumly. “I feel the same way, my boy.”

                                         Ten minutes later you stood at the island of your kitchen, Tayo peacefully picking at his tray of blueberries. He didn’t need the extra protein you had prepared for the rest of your family, scattering an array of fruit atop yogurt and granola clusters in their bowls. Now that Mobo had reached the age where he could attend morning lessons, you were finally at the point where you could achieve some peace and quiet in your household.

- Some.

“Hurry along, boys!” Tayo perked up at the sound of his father’s voice. “Iya has breakfast waiting for you!” M’Baku’s voice is followed quickly by the man himself, ushering his dressed sons along. An overlap of morning greetings accompanied your children, each taking their favorite place at the table.

“Is that everyone?” You ask your husband, who bent down to give Tayo’s little cheeks a kiss. “Yes my love, that is everyone.”

Aremo was already downing the contents of his glass of milk. Naade still appeared to be half asleep. Mobo was happily accepting one of the blueberries that Tayo offered, while M’Baku began to pass out the bowls of yogurt.

That added up to five boys total, leaving two chairs empty. It seemed you were the only one who noticed there was still someone missing for breakfast.

“Baba?” You giggled. “I do believe you’ve forgotten someone.” The gears in his head began to churn while he set the bowls down, counting his sons down on one hand. Aremo came first, then Naade, and then the major oversight on his part.

“Oh no,” he groaned, hurrying as fast as he dared back down the hallway. “Seye? It’s time to get up!” While your husband tried to wrangle your middle child away from one of his books, you set the remainder of the table and joined your family.

“Eat up everyone.” You encouraged, scooping up an adult sized clump of granola and chewing loudly. Maybe if you crunched hard enough you would be able to solve the problem plaguing your mind.

Would your family be able to handle a sixth child?

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