God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as Kafka stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off his damp hair, his body fresh from a hot shower. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple black shirt, the fabric clinging to his still-warm skin, and made his way down the hallway.

His mind wandered to last night, a grin tugging at his lips as he thought about how wild it had gotten. What started as a tame, sneaky session with Abigaille had spiraled into something fierce, the bed rocking so violently he'd half-expected the frame to snap.

The noises, Abigaille's muffled moans, the creak of the springs, had gotten so loud they'd nearly woken Olivia, forcing them to sneak to his room to finish, stumbling back to bed exhausted but buzzing.

He glanced at the bedroom door as he passed, they had already woken up before he had so it was most likely they already has the talk he'd planned. He hoped Abigaille had stuck to the script, playing the possessive villain to keep Olivia on edge, primed to fall deeper into their family's unconventional love.

But another thought nagged at him, a flicker of unease tightening his chest. The goddesses requests from yesterday had been sparse, and none had come through later, no completion messages pinging like usual.

The last time this happened, his mother, his real mother Lady Vanitas, up in the heavens had stirred some cosmic trouble, her omnipotent whims shaking his world. He didn't care much for her, but her power scared him, knowing she could lash out, maybe even target his family out of spite.

Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside, focusing on the present as he reached the kitchen and found Olivia sat on the countertop, her elbows propped on the table, hands cradling her head like she was wrestling with the meaning of life.

Her loose tank top and shorts left her thighs bare, her posture slouched, radiating worry. She hadn't noticed him yet, her gaze fixed on some invisible point, her body tense as if she were crunching numbers for a looming bankruptcy.

Every so often, her cheeks flushed red, a quick blush that faded to pale, like she was replaying last night's events, the kisses, the touches, Abigaille's bold moves and seeing this Kafka smirked, amused by the way her skin betrayed her thoughts, but curiosity gnawed at him.

Had Abigaille done her part, pushed Olivia to question their family's taboo dynamic and to find out he crept closer, silent as a shadow, and leaned down from behind until his lips were inches from her ear, his voice a cheeky whisper.

"What are you doing, Mom? You look like like your contemplating over your life...Care to share."

He expected a yelp, maybe a playful swat, or even a calm 'good morning' with a tired smile.

But Olivia's reaction was anything but.

The moment those words were uttered her body flinched, muscles tensing like a coiled spring, and in a blur, her hand snatched the fork from the table, swinging it backward in a sharp arc, aimed straight for his face.

Her eyes were cold and focused, like a predator striking on instinct and she was about to stab it into his face, that is until the fork stopped a hair's breadth from his eye, quivering in her grip as recognition flooded her gaze, her breath stopping as she realised who she was trying to stab.

Kafka, escaping a trip to the hospital, stood frozen, his heart skipping, staring at the gleaming tines, his expression shifting to dry amusement.

"Well, damn, Mom." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his body still as a statue. "You're really trying to kill your son, huh? Yesterday, you're plotting with a knife to my neck, and now you're going for my eyes with a fork?"

"...What's next, a spoon to the heart? You really want me out of this family that bad?"

Olivia's eyes widened, her hand trembling as the fork clattered to the counter, her body shaking with panic.

"No, no, Kafi, not at all!" She blurted, her voice high and frantic, her hands flailing as she slid off the countertop, grabbing his arms. "It was a mistake, I swear! I didn't mean it, I'd never—oh God, don't think your mom's some kind of killer! I was just startled, that's all, I didn't know it was you!"

"...Please, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I was just...I was lost in thought, and you scared me, and I reacted without thinking!"

Kafka straightened, his smirk growing, his voice teasing as he crossed his arms, towering over her.

"Sure, Mom, sure." He said, his tone falsely serious, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Once, I'd buy it—oh, oops, my bad...But twice? Knife yesterday, fork today? Kinda hard to believe you're not gunning for me."

"Are you trying to clean house, get me out of the family? Since if you want me gone, just say it, I'll walk out, no need to get all stabby and make a mess. Save you the trouble of a murder rap." He leaned down, his voice dropping to a playful whisper, his hand resting on her shoulder. "So, what's it gonna be? You want me to pack my bags, or you gonna finish the job?"

Olivia's face paled, her body trembling as she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him, her breasts pressing against his chest.

"No, Kafi, don't go!" She wailed, her voice muffled, her hands clutching his shirt like a lifeline. "I didn't mean it, I swear! I'd never want you out, never want to hurt you! I'm not some psycho mom trying to kill her son, I promise! It was an accident, I was just freaked out, and l...oh God, I'm so sorry!" Her body shook, her fingers digging into his back, her voice cracking with guilt. "I-If anyone's gotta go, it's me, for almost stabbing you twice!..I-I'm the worst mom ever, I can't believe I did this again!"

Seeing her look so guilty, Kafka's smirk softened, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest as he patted her head, his fingers threading through her hair, his touch gentle.

"Easy, Mom, I'm just messing with you." He said, his voice warm and reassuring, his hand stroking her back. "I'm not going anywhere, and I don't think you're some fork-wielding assassin. It's all good, I'm not blaming you for anything." His fingers lingered on her scalp, his body steady as she clung to him, her warmth seeping into his chest.

Olivia perked up, her head lifting.

"Really, Kafi?" She asked, her voice soft and hopeful, her body leaning into his touch. "You don't blame me? You're not mad about what happened now? Or the...knife thing yesterday?"

Kafka shook his head, his hand ruffling her hair, his voice teasing but fond.

"Nah, Mom, you're off the hook." He said, his fingers trailing down her neck, his touch playful. "I know you love me too much to go all murder-mom on me."

"But damn, you gotta chill with those instincts of yours. Swinging forks, knives, what's next, a spatula to the face?...Your reflexes are gonna get someone killed in this house, and I'm not trying to be the first victim." His grin widened, his voice dropping to a suspicious whisper. "Are you sure you're just a real estate agent? 'Cause I'm starting to think that's a front."

"...Are you actually some kind of secret assassin, taking out targets on a global hit list? Got a hidden stash of throwing stars under the sink or something?"

"No, Kafi, not at all!" She said, her thighs shifting nervously, her fingers waving dismissively. "There's no way I could be a killer, I'm just...me! No hit lists, no throwing stars, nothing like that!" Her voice softened, her gaze dropping to the floor, her hands fidgeting with her shirt. "It's just...I'm not used to living with family yet. It's been so long, you know, being alone in that apartment."

"So, hearing a man's voice right behind me, all sudden like that? It freaked me out, and I reacted without thinking. I took some martial arts classes when I was younger which I told you about, self-defense stuff, and it kinda built this instinct to fight back, not cower...That's all it was, I swear!"

Kafka rubbed the back of his head, his grin turning wry, his voice full of amusement and exasperation.

"Well, that's either a relief or a damn tragedy." He said, his hand resting on her shoulder, his fingers squeezing lightly. "It would've been kinda cool to have an assassin mom, taking out bad guys by day, selling houses by night. But also, maybe not, 'cause that'd be terrifying."

"Still, those instincts of yours are something else. Gotta dial 'em back, Mom, or we're gonna need to bubble-wrap the kitchen."

Olivia's cheeks flushed, her body relaxing against the counter, her voice shy but earnest.

"I'm trying, Kafi, I promise." She said, her hands smoothing her shorts, her thighs brushing together. "I'll work on it, no more fork attacks, I swear. But, um..."

Her gaze flicked up, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips, her fingers tapping the counter.

"T-The only thing killer about me is the prices I get on houses in green estates. You know, slashing those deals, cutting through the competition?"

Her voice lilted, a hopeful note in her tone, her body leaning forward slightly, waiting for his reaction.

Hearing this, Kafka froze, his hand pausing on her shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he processed her words. A beat passed, then a slow, amused grin spread across his face, his voice a cheeky drawl.

"Hold up, Mom, did you just...make a joke?" He said, his fingers ruffling her hair, his body shaking with a quiet laugh. "You, of all people, dropping a pun like that? I didn't see that coming! A killer real estate pun, no less? Damn, you're full of surprises today, first the fork, now this?" His grin widened, his hand patting her head, his tone teasing but fond. "Didn't know you had it in you to crack jokes, especially cheesy ones like that."

"Kafi, don't make fun of me!" Olivia's cheeks burned, her hands flying to her face, her voice a flustered rush. "I was just trying to lighten the mood, okay? I know it wasn't a great joke, but I thought...you know, after what I did, maybe it'd help! Don't laugh at me like that, it's embarrassing!" Her fingers peeked through her hands, her body trembling with shame and amusement.

"Hey, hey, easy, Mom." Kafka's laugh was soft, his hand pulling her closer, pressing her head gently against his chest, his voice soothing but still teasing. "I'm not making fun of you, I swear. It was a good joke, honest! Got me smiling, didn't it? Cheesy as hell, but that's what makes it great."

"...You keep dropping puns like that, and I'm gonna have to start calling you the Punisher." He said a cheesy joke of his own to match hers. "Seriously, though, that was cute. It made my morning, seeing you try to be all funny like that."

"Really?" She asked, her tone hopeful, her body sinking into his embrace, her warmth blending with his. "You liked it? It wasn't too dumb?" Her fingers fidgeted with his shirt, her heart lightening at his praise, a quiet joy settling in her chest.

"I loved it, Mom." Kafka nodded, his hand ruffling her hair, his voice warm and genuine. "You're adorable, you know that? Acting like a assasin trying to kill me for one second, cracking dad jokes the next. Gotta say, you're keeping me on my toes."

His grin softened, his body steady as she clung to him, the kitchen quiet around them, the morning sun casting a warm glow over their playful exchange.